#i just made up something random for him to be working on. it will not appear again

[dior-luxury]

i’d like to say first that i adore your writing! it’s just absolutely lovely to read everything you write o(^▽^)o ♡ thank you for your work! if you don’t mind, i’d like to leave a request!

could i get some domestic fluff about babysitting with the twst characters? like helping leona babysit cheka (and any other character you’d like to write for who has a younger relative…or maybe just insert some random kid for whoever you pick lol) and the whole experience gets them thinking about the future and perhaps having a family of their own?

Babysitting With Them

( ✧ ) ────── parent stories . fluff - f!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders . riddle . leona . azul . kalim . vil . idia . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] Fluff/Domestic Fluff . Babysitting . Future Family Themes. Mild Chaos/Cute Chaos . Soft Moments/Emotional Introspection . Mentions of Children . Parenthood Imagery/Future Parenting

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!! (≧◡≦) It's funny how I two of the same requests that have the same theme Lol, so I just decided to combine them both ( ´ ▽ ` )

Riddle Rosehearts

When Professor Trein approached Riddle with the task of watching his twin grandchildren for an afternoon, Riddle felt a surge of pride and immediate stress. “A demonstration of responsibility,” the professor had said with a knowing glance. Of course, the twist was that you’d be watching them with him.

He'd barely made it to the faculty quarters with the twins before they began running in opposite directions, giggling. One made a beeline for a bookshelf while the other tried to unbutton Riddle's blazer. You calmly scooped one up with a laugh and offered a distracted Riddle a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

“Indeed,” he said, although his voice cracked slightly.

The afternoon was a test of patience, creativity, and teamwork. The twins were mischievous but not unmanageable, especially with your steadying presence. You suggested a tea party—“Just like in Heartslabyul, Riddle”—and helped set out little plastic cups, cookies, and juice. The twins delighted in it, making Riddle the "tea king" while you were “his queen,” to which Riddle flushed a bright pink but didn't correct them.

He even loosened up. At one point, you caught him kneeling beside a stuffed bear, seriously asking if it took sugar in its tea, and your heart melted.

Later, when the twins were napping in a sunlit corner of the lounge, curled up with stuffed animals, Riddle sat beside you on the couch, sipping lukewarm tea you both forgot to drink. He was unusually quiet.

“You were great with them,” you said, brushing a crumb from his sleeve.

He looked at the sleeping children, eyes soft and thoughtful. “I always feared I’d be too strict. That I’d repeat my mother’s mistakes. But... I felt something different today.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, and he hesitantly took your hand in his.

“I think… if it were with you… a future like this wouldn't be so terrifying,” he whispered. “Perhaps even… something to look forward to.”

And for a moment, the world was quiet—just the hum of a peaceful room, the steady rhythm of children’s breaths, and the quiet, blooming thought of someday.

Leona Kingscholar

You'd never seen Leona more alarmed than when a magical mirror blinked open to deliver a very energetic Cheka into his dorm room—complete with suitcase, plushie, and an extremely chipper "UNCLE LEOOO!"

Apparently, Crowley thought it a wonderful learning opportunity for Leona to engage with family during the school’s "Interpersonal Growth Week." And Crowley, in his infinite wisdom, roped you in as Leona’s "emotional support."

Cheka tackled Leona’s legs with a hug, and the big bad lion grumbled something unintelligible, already looking exhausted. You knelt to greet Cheka with a wide smile and a friendly high-five, which the little lion cub enthusiastically returned.

The next few hours were chaos wrapped in a sugar high.

You tried crafts—Cheka glued everything to the table. You tried games—Cheka turned hide-and-seek into a full-blown stealth mission that almost broke a vase. Leona had all but collapsed on the couch, arms crossed over his eyes, muttering, “I need a nap from this nap.”

But then—magic.

The three of you ended up outside in a sunny corner of the savannah-like lounge. Cheka chased butterflies while you helped Leona set up a blanket and snacks. You fed each other bits of dried fruit while pretending you weren't watching Cheka try to roar at squirrels.

Leona eventually laid down, head resting in your lap as he watched the sky.

“You’re good with him,” you said, fingers brushing through his hair.

“Tch. I just didn’t want him breaking anything.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

He huffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned his head slightly, golden eyes catching yours. “You’re the one who’s a natural. Think you’d survive if we had a few of our own running around?”

The way he said it was casual, but there was weight behind the words. His gaze didn’t waver.

Your heart did a little somersault.

“I think we’d survive,” you replied, smiling. “And you’d be better at it than you think.”

Leona snorted softly. “Maybe. As long as they don’t wake me up before noon.”

“Deal. I’ll be the morning parent. You handle bedtime.”

He smirked. “Bet I’d be great at bedtime stories.”

That night, Cheka finally fell asleep with you reading to him while Leona lazily played with the boy’s hair. The warm glow of the dorm’s lighting, the distant buzz of cicadas, and Leona’s hand resting on yours as he watched his nephew drift off—it all felt like a fleeting glimpse into another life. A quieter one. A better one.

Later, after Cheka was tucked in, Leona didn’t say much. He just leaned into you, holding you a little tighter than usual, his voice a low murmur against your hair:

“I wouldn't mind this. With you. A pride of our own.”

Azul Ashengrotto

It all started when a local couple from the Coral Sea sent a formal request to the Mostro Lounge. They were in urgent need of a sitter for their precocious little mer-child, Mira, during a diplomatic visit to the surface. Azul, ever the businessman, couldn’t resist an opportunity to help—especially with you involved.

“This is strictly a professional arrangement,” Azul said, straightening his tie as he paced the Lounge. “We’re simply... fulfilling a need. With compensation. Nothing more.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “So, you’re not looking forward to spending time with an adorable tiny sea-creature and me?”

He flushed to the tips of his ears. “I never said that.”

The moment Mira arrived, everything spiraled beautifully out of Azul’s control. The little one was all curious tentacles, gleaming eyes, and boundless questions. She immediately took a liking to you, tugging your hand and asking if you were “Mr. Azul’s princess.”

Azul nearly choked on his own breath.

You spent the afternoon in the VIP room of the Lounge turned “child-safe zone,” crafting with enchanted water paints, building pillow forts, and watching Mira “swim” in circles around the furniture. Azul tried to stay aloof at first, but Mira eventually suckered him in with wide eyes and a tragic, “I need someone to be the sea king in my game!”

He relented with a sigh that masked a small smile. “Very well. But only because the realm demands it.”

You watched as he donned a makeshift crown made of napkins and posed dramatically while Mira shrieked with joy. Your heart swelled at the sight—Azul, so often rigid and serious, pretending to grant royal decrees while holding a glitter-covered wand.

Later, when Mira was curled up on a plush bench, dozing peacefully with your coat wrapped around her like a blanket, Azul sat beside you, strangely quiet.

“She reminds me of myself,” he said softly. “Always watching, always asking questions. Curious. Smart.”

“She’s sweet. And she adores you.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Temporarily, perhaps. Children change quickly.”

You nudged his shoulder. “She didn’t see the business mogul. She saw someone kind and gentle. Someone safe.”

He looked down at his gloved hands. “I never imagined myself with a family. I didn’t think I was built for that kind of softness. But with you here… it doesn’t seem so foolish.”

You reached out and laced your fingers with his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It’s not foolish at all.”

He squeezed your hand in return, and together, you watched Mira sleep—Azul’s heart caught somewhere between fear and hope, wondering for the first time if maybe, someday, he could create a world where a child of his own wouldn’t have to hide who they were.

Kalim Al-Asim

It was supposed to be a simple favor—watching one of Jamil’s younger cousins for the afternoon while the rest of the Asim family attended a formal banquet. You and Kalim were already spending the weekend at the Scalding Sands estate, so it seemed like no big deal.

That is… until little Layla arrived.

A tiny whirlwind in a flowing dress, Layla was the human embodiment of a sugar rush. She immediately tackled Kalim in a hug, shrieking, “COUSIN KALIM!” as he caught her mid-spin and lifted her into the air like a carnival ride.

“Kalim, she’s going to launch herself into orbit,” you laughed as Layla shrieked in delight.

“She’s light as a feather!” Kalim grinned. “Come on, let’s play palace adventure!”

The next few hours were a technicolor blur of activity. Kalim turned the entire courtyard into an elaborate obstacle course. You both took turns being “guards” or “thieves” as Layla declared herself “Queen of the Flying Carpets.” There were glittery sticker crowns involved, you wore one. Kalim wore four. He looked fabulous.

Kalim was born for this. He matched Layla’s energy effortlessly, spinning stories, making her laugh, and doing every silly voice. You helped bake cookies together (well, tried—Layla mostly just poured sugar in everything while Kalim pretended not to notice). At one point, Layla sat in Kalim’s lap while he played a lullaby on an oud, her little eyes drooping as she leaned into him, totally at peace.

When she finally fell asleep in a cozy mountain of cushions, Kalim looked at you with a warmth in his eyes that was deeper than usual. Not just sunshine—something realer, steadier.

“You’re amazing with her,” you whispered.

He smiled wide but soft. “So are you. She really likes you, y'know.”

He paused then, eyes flicking toward the sleeping child, and his smile grew quieter. Thoughtful.

“Hey… do you think someday, we could do this again? Not for someone else. Just… us.”

Your breath caught at how gentle his voice was. How unguarded.

“With our own little one?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, reaching for your hand. “I used to think I’d never be still long enough for that kind of life. But with you… I think I could be. I want to share all this joy with someone. With a family.”

You leaned into him, head against his shoulder as the warm breeze swept past, carrying the scent of cardamom and sugar.

“I’d love that, Kalim.”

He kissed your forehead, the weight of the moment grounding even someone like him.

“Then let’s make it a dream to reach together.”

Vil Schoenheit

It began, like all beautiful disasters do, with Crowley.

Apparently, a child from the local village—eight years old, precocious, and obsessed with “divas”—had written a very passionate letter asking to spend a day with the “fabulous Vil Schoenheit.” It ended up in the headmage’s hands, and of course, he passed it along to Vil with a wink and a “learning experience in mentorship and patience.”

Vil wanted to say no.

But you, of course, smiled and said, “Come on, it might be fun.”

That was how you ended up babysitting a tiny fashion-obsessed firecracker named Sera, who insisted on calling Vil “Miss Vil” and who immediately begged to do makeovers.

“She’s got spirit,” you whispered with a grin as Vil exhaled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Admirable spirit,” he muttered. “With a worrying love of neon eyeshadow.”

You helped set up a little “studio” in Pomefiore’s drawing room. Vil arranged the mirrors, the light, the seating—because of course he did—and then the three of you got to work. Sera wanted you to do her nails (purple sparkles, no exceptions), while Vil demonstrated eyeliner techniques and gently corrected her brush strokes.

“You must treat your face like art,” he explained patiently, holding her hand as she tried to line her eyes. “Not a battlefield.”

She beamed up at him, utterly starstruck.

Later, she demanded a “runway walk,” so you all spent an hour in the Pomefiore halls, strutting like queens to invisible music. Sera wore one of Vil’s silk scarves as a cape and declared the two of you her “royal beauty parents.”

And Vil—Vil actually laughed. Not the elegant, posed kind, but a real laugh, from the chest.

That evening, with Sera curled up between you on a chaise, happily snacking on sugar-dusted pastries and humming to herself, you noticed Vil watching her. His hand gently smoothed back her hair, his movements soft and careful.

“She’s going to remember this,” you whispered.

He glanced at you, his voice quiet. “So will I.”

You leaned into him, warmth in your chest.

“You were incredible with her,” you said.

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at you with something unguarded in his gaze—no pretense, no performance.

“I used to think children would be... interruptions to my life. But watching her today, seeing her confidence grow just because someone believed in her?” His voice dropped. “I think I’d like that kind of legacy. To build someone up. Guide them. Shape them into someone proud and whole.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers together. “You’d be amazing.”

“And you,” he said, brushing your knuckles with his lips, “would be the heart of it all.”

And in the soft silence that followed, with the glow of the setting sun catching in the gold of Vil’s hair, the two of you quietly let the idea take root.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s nightmare began with Ortho cheerfully saying, “Big Brother! You’ve been chosen to babysit my friend’s little sister while their family visits a Space-Tech Expo!”

Idia’s soul left his body right then and there.

“Wh—What?! I—I don’t know how to interact with mini-humans! I barely manage with regular humans—!”

“It’s okay! Y/N will be with you!” Ortho said brightly, clearly having planned this. “Think of it as a co-op quest! With NPC cuteness!”

That’s how you both ended up in Idia’s room, where the lighting was turned to “soft ambient galaxy mode” and a six-year-old girl named Nari was stomping around in your oversized headphones and calling herself “The Boss Monster.”

Idia was frozen at first—tucked in his gamer chair like it was his only line of defense. But you gave him a warm look, handed him a second controller, and said, “C’mon, let’s introduce her to ‘Fantasy Brawl X.’” The game was co-op, cartoony, and had a character that looked suspiciously like Idia with fire hair.

Nari was hooked.

She squealed when she figured out how to make her character jump. Idia mumbled quiet instructions that she somehow understood perfectly. And you, of course, kept the energy balanced—cheering, helping Nari when she got stuck, and giving Idia little confidence boosts every time he muttered, “I’m gonna mess this up…”

You even caught him smiling when she called his gaming skills “SO COOL, like a real boss!”

Hours passed, filled with giggles and glowing screens. You made microwave popcorn and juice box “potions.” Ortho peeked in once and whispered “Level Up!” at Idia, who turned pink and kicked him out.

When Nari finally nodded off on a beanbag chair, hugging a plushie of Idia’s favorite mech character, the room went quiet. The only sound was the hum of LED strips and the soft soundtrack of the paused game.

You turned to find Idia staring at her—his expression unreadable, for once not hidden behind his hair.

“She... wasn’t scared of me,” he said quietly. “She called me cool. Even though I’m... me.”

You moved beside him, laying your head against his shoulder. “That’s because you are cool. And kind. And you gave her a space to just be happy.”

He hesitated, hands fidgeting.

“I didn’t think I could ever picture something like this,” he whispered. “Me. In a family. That’s, like, the opposite of my anime origin story.”

“But…?”

He sighed, almost smiling. “But… if it were with you… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad ending. Or maybe... a good beginning.”

You kissed his cheek, and his hair turned a shade of glowing pink so fast it lit up the room.

Malleus Draconia

The request came from Lilia.

“I need someone to watch one of the castle’s younger wards while I run errands in Briar Valley,” he said, flashing a mischievous little grin. “You’re good with children, right? And Malleus could use a bit of… exposure to the chaos of mortals.”

Before you could even process what you were agreeing to, you were left with a wide-eyed little fae girl named Aris—no taller than your hip, with bright moss-green hair, tiny horns, and a suspicious amount of energy for someone who literally glowed when she got excited.

“She’s precious,” you whispered.

“She is terrifying,” Malleus replied gravely, watching her zip around your legs with the glee of a creature who’d just discovered sugar.

You had both agreed to spend the afternoon in a quiet glade outside of Diasomnia, where the ancient trees arched high above and the air sparkled faintly with fae magic. Malleus, always fond of serenity, conjured floating lights and flowers that opened at a touch. Aris, of course, immediately declared this was her “kingdom” and that you and Malleus were her “knights.”

Malleus blinked, bewildered. “She… promoted me?”

You laughed. “Congrats, Sir Horns-a-Lot.”

To your surprise, Malleus took his new title seriously. He let Aris ride on his shoulders, gently cradling her little legs with those long, careful fingers. He answered every one of her endless questions about dragons, thorns, and whether he could breathe fire ("Only when properly irritated, young one").

You played tag. You helped make flower crowns. Malleus, despite never doing any of this before, adapted like he'd been waiting for a moment like this his whole life. Watching him kneel in the grass with Aris, guiding her tiny hands to shape a flower into a glowing orb of magic, made something deep in your chest ache in the best way.

When the afternoon faded to dusk, Malleus conjured little floating flameflies and told Aris a fae lullaby. She curled up between you both on a picnic blanket, humming softly, eyes half-lidded, her fingers tangled in Malleus’s cloak.

He looked down at her with something unreadable in his emerald eyes—something warm, gentle, almost reverent.

“She reminds me of the younglings I used to watch from afar,” he murmured. “Always distant. Always curious. But never mine to protect.”

You slid closer, brushing your hand against his. “But she’s here now. And she feels safe with you.”

“She calls me her knight,” he said quietly, a small smile ghosting his lips. “No one has ever said such things to me—not without fear behind it.”

You leaned your head against his arm. “She sees you the way I do.”

He turned toward you, his expression soft.

“Do you think,” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper, “that one day, we could have this? A little one. Not by duty or politics, but… something born of us? Of love?”

Your breath caught, your fingers curling around his.

“I do,” you said, certain and full of emotion. “With all my heart.”

Malleus looked up at the stars, glowing brighter against the indigo sky. And then he closed his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“If this is what the future holds,” he said, “then I have never been more eager to walk toward it.”

In the hush of twilight, with Aris sleeping peacefully between you and the fireflies dancing in the air, Malleus dreamed—not of grandeur, not of ancient destiny, but of a quiet life filled with laughter, tiny footsteps, bedtime stories, and you.

[200mark]

⌗ random night-time scenarios with the dreamies

SCENE .. “come here and give me kiss, please.”

꒰ DETAILS ꒱ boyfriend!dream & fem!rea ⋮ ♯ file 000. established relationship, scenarios, petnames && fluff ᵔⰙᵔ

♡ entry .. hi! this is my first post on tumblr! not new to tumblr but i definitely never uploaded my works before and suddenly i’ve gotten the confidence to do so. let me know if you all like this, my plan is to post more in the future. also i apologize in advance for the lack of dialogue in some of these, i did proofread but may still be errors!

MARK LEE

it was cold in your shared apartment, not an uncomfortable cold but cold enough for you to want your boyfriend’s warmth and he was more than willing to give it to you. you’re both cuddled up against the headboard of your bed he’s flicking through channels trying to find something to watch and you’re laid against his shoulder playing with the edge of his shirt. “wait go back to that other channel, what was that?” you spoke softly the room was rather quiet except for the faint humming sounds of the air conditioner that can be heard from your bedroom, mark causally flicked back to the previous channels until you stopped him. the channel was on commercial and it was no telling how long it would be until the original show or movie that was airing would come back on. mark placed the remote on the night stand beside the bed and adjusted his position against the headboard causing you to sit up before he pulling you back towards him. this time his hand found your hip, he gave it a squeeze before rubbing his thumb gently against the skin. you both stayed like that, the silence was comfortable, the faint sound of the air conditioner, the sound of the tv and the sound of both of you breathing was all you both needed, what was on the tv no longer mattered just the quality time that was happening.

HUANG RENJUN

“junnie, did you say you wanted a fork or chopsticks?” you speak from the kitchen, you’re looking through the drawers trying to find a fork just in case that’s what he asked for. you both decided to get takeout tonight neither one of you were in a cooking mood so this was the best option if you two were gonna eat. you made your way back into the living room sitting beside renjun on the couch, “we don’t have any clean forks no one washed the dishes” you chuckled “so we both have to use chopsticks,” “and if i remember correctly it was your turn to wash the dishes? hm?” he asked before putting some of the food in his mouth, “well there’s a logical explanation for why i didn’t wash them!” you tried defending yourself, “and that is…” “i don’t know i didn’t think that far ahead,” you shrugged which caused him to laugh and he laughed so hard he started choking which caused you to laugh while patting his back telling him to stop laughing. it was moments like this, that made you whole or more so content. sharing a laugh with the person you love and sharing food with the person you love was more than enough for you.

LEE JENO

it was a little past 8pm, and both you and jeno are in the bathroom, you’re brushing your teeth and jeno is standing there watching and waiting for you to finish. you spit into the sink turning the water on washing the sink out briefly “you ready?” jeno spoke and you shake your head “not yeah i need to add some moisturizer on my face, can you look in that bin for me please, the bottle is white with a purple lid.” he nodded and walked over to the bin which you pointed at and looked through it, you washed your face with a rag gently patting your face “this one?” he asked, holding up the exact bottle you described you remove the towel from your face and squint in his direction before nodding and he walks over to you place the items on the counter. you toss the rag into the hamper and pump a few drops of the moisturizer onto your face before rubbing it in, “baby, can you please grab my glasses out the kitchen i believe they’re still sitting on the counter.” “ugh, you’re having me do everything tonight why can’t we just lay down?” he begins walking over to you. he picks you up and places you on the counter knocking the moisturizer over in the process, he stood in between your legs his eyes scanned your face like he was looking for something, he wrapped his arms around your body burying his face in your neck “mmm, you smell good.” his voice muffled against your neck, which caused you to giggle at the feeling of his breath on your neck. you’re still wondering if he’s going to go get your glasses or not.

LEE DONG HYUCK

“do you hate me? like seriously.” haechan asks you’re both laying on the couch, his head resting in between your legs, “hmm? why would you ask that unprovoked?” “not unprovoked, you’re scrolling on tiktok when you’re loving boyfriend is right here. unless i’m invisible.” he pouts and you laugh but it’s more like a ‘you’re cute’ laugh, “okay fine hyuck, my attention is all yours,” he shakes his head still pouting, “i just want you to rub my scalp you don’t have to get off tiktok,” “so why didn’t you just say that???” you shake your head, “i have to be dramatic first… you know this.” he gives your thigh a light squeeze, you run your fingers through his hair and he let out a satisfied hum. you go back to scrolling through tiktoks still rubbing his scalp gradually stopping then continuing and haechan is watching whatever is on the tv slowly dozing off at the feeling of your hand running through his scalp. “mmm, focus baby” haechan mumbled you definitely didn’t realize that your hand was no longer rubbing his head “whoops my bad,” and you go back to rubbing his scalp again a few more minutes go by and you stop without realizing again “okay maybe you should give me your full attention, i want to fall asleep but every time i’m about to you stop rubbing my scalp.” he whines, “hyuck my attention is all yours.” you place your phone down beside so that you can give your full undivided attention to him so that he can fall asleep.

NA JAEMIN

“jaem.. are you sleep?” you whispered, you both are laying down in the bed his arm draped over your waist his body pressed against yours and you’re uncomfortable but you don’t want to tell jaemin that you want to wait until he shifts then you’ll move but he hasn’t moved in hours and you still haven’t fallen asleep, “jaem…” you say a little louder and he groans, “i’m uncomfortable,” “turn over then sweets.” he spoke in his half conscious state, and you do as he said turning over, your both face to face expect he’s sleeping. you stare at his face for a while before pressing a few kisses along his jawline and a few on his face, “what are you doing?” he mumbled “kissing you,” “well i know that… why aren't you sleeping?” he slowly blinks awake and your eyes meet “i couldn’t sleep i was uncomfortable and i didn’t want to wake you.” your hand rests against his cheek and he shakes his head, “you could’ve just turned over,” “but you’re a light sleeper i would have woken you.” you said your voice soft, “so you’ll lose sleep because i’m a light sleeper?” he chuckles then placed a kiss on your forehead, “let me be little spoon maybe that’ll help you sleep.” he turned over and you wrapped your arms around his body, your head pressed against his back and you slowly dozed off to sleep.

ZHONG CHENLE

“lele it’s cold out here,” you shivered and he looked at you and laughed, “did i not tell you to bring a jacket?” and you nodded, “here” he took off his jacket handing it to you and you quickly put it on. it was late but chenle wanted to give daegal one last chance to use the bathroom before he goes to bed, “and what if she doesn’t pee this time?” you asked, being sarcastic, “then she’ll pee on the floors and YOU will clean it.” he laughed but you didn't, which only made him laugh harder, “i’m joking” he said still laughing “that joke must’ve really tickled you huh? your ears are red and everything.” he gently grabbed your arm pulling you towards him placing his arm around your shoulders, he sighed leaning his head on top of yours. “you’re still shivering am now i’m shivering seeing you shiver,” he said “yeah i’m like 99.99% sure that’s not how that works, wanna share the jack-” and before you could finish he was already forcing himself inside the jacket with you, “daegal hurry, mom and dad are VERY cold,” he said laughing and you laughed along with him. “yes please hurry, before lele turns into a popsicle his ears are turning red again.” you spoke but your teeth were clinging together because of how cold you were, chenle blew his breath in your face jokingly attempting to warm you up. “lele you’re such a weirdo! your breath is usually hot i guess not this time,” and you fake pout causing him to laugh and eventually daegal goes to the bathroom and you two head inside for the night.

PARK JISUNG

“ji get the eggs out the refrigerator,” he nods, moving past you to get to the fridge. it’s 1am and jisung woke up hungry and so did you so what better way to fix that than some late night ramen? he passes you two eggs before rubbing his stomach “my belly is so empty,” and you giggle “you know hunger is just a mind thing? if you think you’re hungry of course you’ll be hungry.” “wait really?” you nod, “being hungry is a mental thing cause if you aren’t thinking about wanting to eat the feeling will subside.” “so basically i can have your noodles?” he says jokingly and hou both share a laugh, “you wish! especially with me being the one who’s cooking them.” he sighs, he grabs two bowls out of the cabinet “forks or chopsticks?” “uhm, i want a fork,” he nods. you yawn putting noodles into the bowls you add the eggs to the bowls then hand one over to jisung who was already seated on the bar stool, he eats some of the noodles letting out a satisfied ‘mmm’ “i don’t think i’ll be able to enjoy these noodles since i’m so sleepy,” jisung smiles at you, “come here” and you walk over to him with your bowl in your hands, “at least take a few bites then we can go back and lay down, it’s super late at least eat these so that you won’t be hungry again in a few hours.” he said then pressed a kiss on your cheek, “fine.” and you eat some of your noodles “cute, your cheeks are full of noodles” he laughs, “ready to go lay down?” and you nod, you grab his arm and follow close behind him into the bedroom.

[sinner-as-saint]

mastermind

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Ex-bully!Reader AU 

Summary: You were mean to him back in uni, always teasing him and making fun of him. Always chasing away the few friends he had and always ruining the chances he had of making new ones. He could never figure out why he was always the butt of your jokes, why out of all the other people you could unleash your cruelty on, you picked him. But those uni years were long gone. His desire to get back at you however, was not. So now, about a whole decade later, Bucky Barnes is out for revenge. You made his life hell for years after all. But now that he’s older and stronger than he was back then, he deserves to have a little fun with you, doesn’t he? 

Themes: author!reader, ex bully!reader, mentions of bullying in the past, mild angst, smut, stalker!bucky, dark!bucky, degrading kink, fluff

Bucky stepped into the hole in the wall bar with confidence. 

He knew what he was here for. Or rather, who. 

And he spotted you right away. He’d been preparing for this meeting for the last decade, and he had all his ducks in a row now. He grabbed a beer and walked right over to where you were sitting, in a booth by yourself. A half pint of something on the table, with papers scattered everywhere while you were busy noting something down rapidly in a notebook. 

You looked good, he admitted to himself. Dark burgundy dress with a leather jacket, as if you wanted to blend into the dark and moody aesthetic of the bar and disappear. But you were one of those people who just couldn’t exactly blend in and disappear. Even when you didn’t say a word, your presence was rather loud. Sure, you’d been one of the most horrible people he’d come across in uni years ago, but you were charismatic and he couldn’t deny it. 

You had this certain pull to you, attracting everyone and everything towards you. And here he was, gravitating towards you as well. But, he reminded himself, he had a plan this time. 

“Excuse me,” He spoke in his smoothest voice, “Is this seat taken?” 

He watched you intently as you looked up from your notebook and seemed a little surprised as you gave him a slight smile and pointed at the seat across from you. You didn’t recognise him. Of course you wouldn’t, he looked entirely different. 

Bucky was used to it. That surprise on women’s faces. He looked good and he knew it. Tight black t-shirt, purposely two sizes too small just so he could show off the big arms and the back muscles that the people loved. Tattoos all over his arms, and some on his neck. He had them all over his back as well, but it was currently hidden. Small, discrete lip ring on his lower lip. Yeah, he made the ladies go crazy. 

He could tell you were having trouble looking away as well. “Aren’t you too beautiful to be here all by yourself?” He gave you a smirk, one that he knew accentuated his lip ring. He watched your gaze drop down to it quickly before looking back up into his eyes. 

You smiled, then explained. “I don’t know anyone in this city, I’m here temporarily for work. I leave in a couple of days.” 

Bucky listened with fake interest, he knew all these things already. He knew everything about you. “Oh?” He faked curiosity, “What do you do for work?” 

“I’m an author. I’m currently on my book tour.” You answered in a shy voice. 

Weird. You used to be so confident and cocky all the time in uni. This was new. Bucky quickly recovered and said, “Wait, was that you I saw on the poster outside the bookstore down the street? There was quite a crowd there.” 

You nodded sheepishly, “Yeah, that’s me. I have another book signing there tomorrow.” 

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “You must be really good.” 

Again, you gave him that shy shrug that confused him. Since when were you humble, or shy? 

“I’m okay, I guess. People just like to read what I write.” A pause, as you stared into his eyes, then asked, “What do you do in the city? You know, other than flirting with random women.” 

Bucky chuckled, “Oh you’re not random. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met.” He waited to see you squirm in your seat like he knew you would. He watched how you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Then he said, “I own a security company. I created this app that people use whenever they need help. All they have to do is press a button and my guys show up. Anywhere, anytime. Anything from needing medical help to needing help escaping someone, domestic violence, robbers, a hostage situation, harassment, or you know,” He looked right at you as he said, “Bullies.” 

You listened, nodded and said, “That’s noble. What pushed you to make that your life’s mission?” 

Bucky leaned back into his seat. “I know what it’s like to feel defenseless. I never want anyone to feel like that. So if I can at least help some people, it makes me feel better. I guess I became what younger me needed.” 

“Why?” You questioned. “Were you hurt in the past?” 

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “But that was a long time ago.” 

Bucky began talking about something else but then noticed you were watching him a little too intensely. For a brief moment he panicked, wondering if you’d recognised him. But surely not. He didn’t look anything like he did back then. 

So he had to ask, still in the same flirty tone he’d been using the whole time, “What’s that look for?” 

He watched as you blinked a couple times, lowered your face as if shy then shook your head and said, “Nothing. It’s…,” You chuckled, “It’s gonna sound insane but you just… look so much like one of my main characters from my last book.” You then grabbed your phone and clicked a couple times before showing him a fanart. “See? Even the lip ring, and the neck tats.” 

Bucky grabbed your phone, analysing the fanart with interest. “And this guy, you like him? Is he a good guy?” 

You sighed, “He’s complicated. But yes, I love him. He’s one of my favourite characters that I’ve ever written.” A coy smile, then you said, “I just never thought I’d meet someone exactly like him. I mean, it’s like you walked out of my book.” You laughed. 

Bucky laughed too. “Well, maybe I did.” 

“Maybe.” You whispered, still looking up at Bucky dreamily. Giving him that soft look women often gave him before they invited him into their beds. 

Perfect. 

Oh. He had you right where he wanted you. It’s like you walked out of my book. He scoffed internally. For the last few years he’d been studying all your books like they were religious texts and he was a zealous man. Over the years he noticed that all your MMCs had a few features in common – tattoos, muscles, piercings, so he became them. 

Sure, maybe this was him taking it too far. After all, uni ended about a decade ago. Sure, this was petty and maybe even a waste of time. But he needed to do this for the younger him who was always so passive and never in control of the narrative. Being bullied and never having friends or anyone on his side is what made him create his app and company. Sure, this was childish revenge but it was his to take. He didn’t care. 

Besides, the look on your face would be priceless once he reveals who he is. But not yet. He had so much to do before that. So many fantasies to fulfil. So much fun to have before he told you the whole truth. 

“It’s getting late,” You told him as you began gathering your papers and notebook, “I should head back to my hotel. I have that book signing thing rather early. But, um, if you want I could leave you my number and we can meet again tomorrow?” 

Bucky smiled at you, his tongue toying with his lip ring knowing full well it would catch your attention. “Yes, please.” 

He already had your number. Screw your number, he had all your home addresses – both the penthouse, as well as the small beach house that you owned, your email addresses, your passwords, where you liked to eat, where your friends lived, where they worked, what your parents did, where they worked, all of it. He’d been keeping a close eye on you for the past decade, of course he knew everything there was to know about you. 

So he took the number, and walked you out of the bar and promised to meet up with you the next day. 

—

“Have dinner with me,” Bucky said when he saw you the following evening. “I know a cute spot, it’s lowkey and quiet. You’re gonna like it.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, “Alright.” Then you took his elbow and let him take the lead. 

He walked slowly, using the short journey as an excuse to ask you things. General stuff, things people ask on first dates. Where you grew up, what is your family like, etc. But it was hard coming up with questions when he already knew everything. Plus, he had to be careful not to ask specific things, like how did you find Bari, Italy where you vacationed with your family last year? 

Luckily the place where you were headed wasn’t too far. 

“So tell me, what is it like going from city to city and meeting all your fans?” Bucky asked you once the two of you had placed your orders. 

You smiled, as if at a memory, and said, “It’s amazing. I can’t quite put it into words. I mean, I started writing as a way to cope with just, I don’t know, life I guess. And I never thought people would end up reading, let alone even like what I write. And it kinda just happened, and next thing I knew I was receiving messages and emails and letters from all over the world. I guess, you never get tired of someone telling you just how much they like the stories you made up in your head.” You sighed again, happily this time. “It’s cliché, I know, but it’s so pure and genuine. Like these characters don’t exist in real life, I made them up. But people found them interesting enough to read about them, and like them.” You giggled. 

Bucky felt like someone had slapped him the moment he heard that giggle. What the hell was happening to him? Did he, dare he say, find you endearing? What the fuck. 

You continued, unbeknownst to the internal turmoil Bucky was going through. “So yeah, the fans are literally the reason why I do what I do. They give me so much strength and they don’t even know it. Sometimes just reading or re-reading a sweet message someone left me months ago can turn a bad day into a really good one, or make a terrible day slightly more tolerable.” You paused, gazing into Bucky’s eyes. “Writing saved me, but my fans, my readers, they made my life so much more beautiful and worth living.” 

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. At all. He knew you didn’t have ghost writers or anything. He knew you’d been consistent with your book releases. But he never knew you had such… depth. He always only ever saw you as the bitchy girl who bullied him in uni and made his life hell. For the first time in years, Bucky wavered a little bit when it came to you. For the first time in years, he wondered whether this was worth it. 

“I see,” He spoke quietly, “So no downsides to being a well-loved author?” 

You chuckled, “Some. Like most things. I mean, this doesn’t happen a lot but a couple of times I’ve had people show up to my hotel room or my house even, demanding to know what happens in the next book. It’s scary, but, I mean I’ve dealt with it and I hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

Perfect. Bucky smiled, then said, “You know, you should hire security. At least when you’re touring. I can arrange it, I’ll send you some of my best guys. They’ll be discrete, and you won’t have to worry about anything.” 

He was pleased with how easily you agreed. Now he could have eyes on you all the time without all the secrecy. 

And the rest of the dinner went by smoothly. 

He thought he’d have to put in a lot more work. But when he dropped you off at your hotel lobby, and you asked him if he wanted to come up for a drink, he was pleasantly surprised. But of course he agreed and followed you to your room. 

You offered him a glass of red wine, he accepted. 

You made small talk, your eyes never leaving his. Bucky put on a show. Touching your hands, your face, but just enough to leave you wanting more. He watched how you lowered your head each time he gave you a compliment. But none of the compliments were lies, even despite all the hatred he felt towards you he had to admit, you were very beautiful. 

He also noted the way you kept scooting closer and closer to him on the couch. Out of nowhere, Bucky said, “You know, I googled you last night. And I came across some rather… naughty stuff that you’ve written.” 

You laughed and said, “In my world, we call those spicy scenes.” 

Bucky nodded, “I see. And are any of those based on real life?” 

There was that shy look on your face again. “Some are.” 

There was this unexplainable wave of discontent that washed over him upon hearing that. He didn’t know why but the thought of you having sex with someone else and it being good enough for you to write about it almost made him want to get up and leave. He hated it. 

“So if I fuck you, will you write about it?” He asked, so serious all of a sudden. 

You didn’t look away from his eyes as you replied, “Only if you’re memorable enough.” 

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He shook his head and reached for you, “Come here then,” He guided you over his lap so you could straddle him. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll show you memorable enough.” 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling all the hard muscles underneath his thin t-shirt while his hands slid up and down your sides as his lips kissed all over your neck. He hummed and breathed and chuckled right into your ear as he explored your body. Then, getting impatient he asked, “Can I please take your dress off?” 

Within the next few seconds, you were completely bare in his lap. 

“So beautiful,” He murmured, looking at you with those gorgeous eyes that he knew could make people melt so easily. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispered along your collar bones, kissing and licking your skin. You inched closer to him, rubbing your crotch against his clothed but erected cock, making the both of you gasp and moan. “Yeah? Is that what you want?” He teased, tightening his grip on your waist just a little and pulling you closer to him, nuzzling your neck again. 

You slid your fingers into his hair and whispered into his ear, “Yes, please.” 

He hid the fact that your voice made him shiver. He shook it off as quickly as he could. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. 

Bucky recovered, and smirked against your skin the moment he heard you gasping and whining under his touch. “What do you want, huh?” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, grounding you on his clothed cock in the process, “My fingers?” He reached up to grab the back of your neck, tilting your head back so he could kiss and whisper against your skin, “My mouth? Or my cock?” 

You whined, then said, “Your cock, please.” You begged him. And fuck, it was satisfying to hear. Just what he wanted. 

He chuckled, letting his hand rest at your butt, bringing your body closer to his. How long had he waited to have you at his mercy like this? He was gonna have all the fun he’d dreamt of having. “Well then you have to work for it.” He said, teasing you. “Now come on, take it out and slide it in you.” 

Bucky leaned back and watched each one of your moves. The desperation in your eyes as you stared up at him, how your eager hands rapidly undid his pants to free his throbbing cock. How you handled him like he was nothing but just a hot fling. 

Oh baby, Bucky scoffed mentally, you have no idea who I am, do you? 

He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, like the rest of him, his cock was nice and thick too. 

He watched as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking his veiny cock, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “I said put it inside you, baby.” He bit his lower lip to keep from moaning too much. 

Bucky watched you as you lifted your body off of his lap and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole and then slowly, slowly sank down on him. You both moaned, watching his cock disappear inside of you. 

“Fuck…” You moaned, looking at him with that damned innocent look in your eyes. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Come here,” He growled once he was nice and deep inside your warm, wet hole. Grabbing you by the throat, Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you hungrily. Growling into your mouth about how good it felt to be inside you, “You did such a good job. Look how pretty you look, filled with my cock, huh? Do you realise how pretty you look, baby?” 

You whined against his mouth, begging, immediately grinding your hips against his, desperate for some friction. For any kind of movement. Just needy. 

“Please…” 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” He whispered against your mouth, your warm breaths mingling. “I’ve got you. I’ll make it feel good, okay?” His hands grabbed you by the hips as he carefully helped you lift your lower body up and then slowly, lowering you down his cock again. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded, looking down to see where your bodies connected and the sight of it, of his cock stretching you out was just sinful. 

“You feel perfect, you know that?” Bucky grabbed and held your hips in place, gently thrusting his hips up, making you moan as he filled you up, “Just a perfect girl for me, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought, huh?” 

It was a good thing you were too lust-drunk to fully process his ramblings. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your open mouth again, moving your body gently, rocking you back and forth on his cock to get you to get used to the girth of him. His cock throbbed against your walls, causing the tiniest bit of friction which drove you insane and turned you into a teary, mumbling mess. “Aww baby, what is it? Is it too much? Hmm?” He teased, placing his thumb against your clit and rubbing it slowly while still moving your hips back and forth. “Is that too much?” 

You looked into his eyes with your teary ones and said, “You… feel so good.” You whined. 

Bucky smirked. Right where he wanted you. He let go of your hips, no longer helping you to move. “Go on then, take what you want. And make it good for me.” 

Sheepishly, you lifted your lower body slightly, before sliding back down on his cock. Now that he wasn’t helping you, it was way harder than earlier. You struggled to make him fit for a moment. But only for a moment. 

You whimpered and he groaned once he fit snug inside of you again. The tip of his cock reaching sensitive places you never knew existed. 

“That’s good, baby.” Bucky murmured, caressing your thigh. “But open your eyes. I want you to look at me while you take my cock so perfectly like my good girl. You hear me?” 

You looked right at him, nodding as you began riding his cock as best as you could before you finally found the right pace and rhythm. You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time, whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. 

“That’s it. Take it, take all of me in that tight, perfect little cunt…” He leaned in to kiss you, biting down and tugging at your bottom lip while you sped up, his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up.

His hand circled around your waist, his muscular arms caging you in and he pulled your warm body closer to his. You were nothing but a moaning mess at this point. 

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out. Bucky now held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock, throwing his head back and growling in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good…” He tried to contain his grunts, “Oh fuck, you’ll get me addicted to this cunt, huh? And I’ll want it every day now. But you’ll give it to me, won’t you? You’ll let me fuck it, or taste it, or both, won’t you, angel?” 

“Yes,” You whined, nodding helplessly. “Whatever you want.” 

He chuckled, kissing down your neck and whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him. He panted against your skin, kissing you all over, “This cunt is mine now, you hear me? All fucking mine. All of it.” 

“Yes…”

You didn’t slow down when you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Bucky kept thrusting his hips up into you even as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone, all that pressure exploding in a satisfying way. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to his. 

— 

“I wish I could stay in the city a little longer.” You mumbled against his chest. 

Bucky smirked, his fingers mindlessly tracing random shapes on your skin. “Where are you going after this?” 

You told him which city you were off to the next day for more book signings and readings. And Bucky pretended to be surprised, as if he didn’t know already, “I’m headed there too. One of our offices there needs me for something.” Lies. “I’ll leave in a day or two.” 

You sat up at the sound of that, looking down at Bucky with a mischievous look in your eyes. Bucky smirked because he could already see your thought process. 

“Could we, um, see each other again?” You asked, still a little shy. 

Bucky reached out to touch your face, playing the part of the enamoured stranger too well. “Of course we can, angel. I’ll come find you, don’t you worry.” 

�� 

It was almost too easy to find you again. His guards who were watching over you let him know of all your moves, where you were, which hotel you stayed at, where your event was held, what time, etc. 

So finding you at your book signing event, and surprising you by sneaking around and pulling you into a nearby utility closet was not a problem at all. 

You gasped, in surprise, then let out a chuckle once you realized it was just him. “Bucky!” 

Bucky pulled you close and gave you a gentle kiss. “I’ve missed you, angel.” 

You relaxed in his arms, “But I saw you just two nights ago.” 

“I know,” He leaned in to kiss your neck. “Still missed you,” He whispered. 

You let out a soft moan when he licked and bit your skin. “Bucky…” You groaned, then giggled when his rough stubble tickled your neck. And that cold metal of his lip ring making you shiver.  “I have to be out and take pictures in a while.” 

He pulled away immediately. “Sorry, I thought–,” 

“No,” You cut him off, again with that shy but mischievous look in your eyes. Then you leaned in and whispered against his mouth, “I didn’t say we had to stop.” You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, right on his lip ring. 

Then you kissed his neck, then slowly got down on your knees. Your hands trailing down his body until you reached his belt buckle. 

Okay. This was not in the plan. Bucky thought in his head. 

“Can I?” You asked, looking up at him with those eyes of yours. 

Fuck. Fuck! How long had he waited for this? Years. Even in uni, even when he hated you, he was just a young man and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees for him. Fuck. Focus, Bucky, focus! 

“Go ahead, baby.” He whispered. “It’s all yours to play with.” 

Those words made you hurry. You rapidly undid his belt, unzipped his pants and freed his hard cock. The mere sight of it had you whimpering with need. You wrapped your hands around him and placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before you slowly took more of him, as much as you could fit, into your mouth. 

You looked up and found him looking down at you intensely, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with lust, and breathing heavily. Fuck, he was a sight, you thought. The lip ring on that swollen, soft, pink lower lip. Those tattoos peeking from under the collar of his shirt, the tattoos along his muscular forearms… 

You kept your eyes on his gorgeous face as you sucked on his cock. He had the kind of manly beauty that made you want to worship him with your mouth. Usually, you’d never get down on your knees this quickly for any man. But Bucky… he was special, wasn’t he? 

Bucky closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. “Fuck…” he moaned and you only quickened your pace. He moved his hips forward, gently fucking your mouth. He looked back down and smirked, you looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

“Is this what you’ve been dreaming of doing for the past two days, huh?” He teased. “While you’re out there innocently reading your books, and signing autographs for your fans, and smiling for pictures, is this what was in the back of your mind, angel?” 

You nodded, your mouth still full of him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, not so innocent, are you?” He carefully quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, eager to chase his orgasm. “You’re lucky you have to go back out there and look presentable, otherwise I’d make a mess all over your face, baby.” He said, then hissed when you took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. “Oh, you little tease.” He smirked. “No more teasing, baby, come on. Put it back in your mouth.” He ordered. 

And you listened. You took him back into your mouth and sucked on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue. Bucky came with a loud sigh, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him. You swallowed all of him, licked him clean and zipped his pants back up and did his belt again before standing up to face him again. 

He smiled at you. “I’m gonna return the favour later, okay?” 

You nodded while he wiped the corners of your mouth with his thumbs, and fixed your hair as best as he could. Bucky loved the dreamy look in your eyes. 

You slid him your hotel room key and said, “See you later, Bucky.” Then you left the closet with a wink. 

Bucky stayed there for a minute. Alone and thinking. This was easier than he thought. He kinda hoped you’d play hard to get a little more, but this was great too. 

—

Bucky did show up to your hotel room that night. He had a favour to return after all. But then, after that night, things went a little off his initial plan. 

Bucky ended up following you around the world for the next month or so, going from city to city. Fucking in hotel rooms, or anywhere he could get you alone. He ended up infiltrating each one of your events, sometimes he’d show up just so he could then take you out for dinner after a long day, then he’d end up sleeping in your bed each night. 

He knew he was deviating from his plan. But what could he do? He was having fun, and so were you. Neither one of you was putting a label on this thing anyway. Plus, he had waited for this for so long. So he let it happen for some more weeks, shamelessly enjoying anytime he got to have you under him, or be under you, or touching you, or kissing you. All for the sake of younger him, of course. 

Bucky let it go like this until you were nearing the last leg of your tour. And you had about a week off before the last few remaining events. 

It was time, he realised. To mess with you a little more. 

So he made you an offer he knew you wouldn’t refuse. 

The two of you were in your penthouse, back in your city. And Bucky had travelled with you. The two of you could barely keep your hands off each other. So here you were now, early morning, cuddling in bed. 

“How would you like a weekend getaway, baby? At a nice cabin, small town, endless woods,” He proposed, pulling you closer under the covers since you were both refusing to get out of bed that morning. “Just you, and me, and a hot tub.” He whispered, kissing your face while you writhed in his arms, giggling and trying to get away because you were really ticklish. “And lots of sex.” 

You laughed, finally out of his embrace, and got up to straddle him, pinning his arms in place as you looked down at him. Both of you completely naked, but who cared? “I wake up sore everyday because of you.” 

Bucky smirked, freeing his hands from your grip easily. “Weird, ‘cause you never complain when we’re doing it.” He spoke, his hands mindlessly caressing your bare thighs. “In fact, you always ask for more.” 

“Right.” You smacked his chest playfully. “And now you want to lock me inside a cabin with you? We won’t ever leave the bed. I still have work to do, you know? I should’ve started working on my next book weeks ago.” You said, “But a certain tattooed, blue-eyed hottie is ruining my plans.” 

He laughed at the irony of what you said. “Oh come on, angel,” He pleaded. “I just want one weekend alone with you. Just one. Where we don’t have to meet or interact with other people. It’ll be just us.” 

You smiled and nodded, “Fine. I should start packing.” 

— 

The cabin was everything. Much larger than you expected. Bucky told you that this was one of his favourite properties that he owned, at the foot of a mountain, surrounded by dense, foggy woods, the rich veridian pine trees, the dark mountains, and rain clouds. 

It was the perfect setting to get some writing done as well, you thought. 

“Oh! This is perfect, Buck!” You said the moment you stepped inside the log home. The setting sun really added to the charm of the place. You spun in slow circles, taking it all in. The high ceiling, the grand staircase, the nice kitchen, the neat living area with the comfiest chairs by the large windows, and the giant fireplace. 

You immediately walked over to the biggest chair with the softest cushions and plopped down on it with a happy sigh. “I never wanna leave.” You squealed, giggling as you squirmed and buried deeper into the cushions. “Can I just stay here forever? Look at this place, Buck!” 

Bucky was frozen in place. Watching you. Unable to take his eyes off you. The happy smiles, the way you made sure to point out all the things you liked and compliment them. The way you immediately made yourself at home. The way you chose the most comfortable spot and decided that was your spot, like a house cat by a sunny window. 

What the hell was he feeling?! And why did he feel kinda bad for having led you on this whole time? Was he doing the wrong thing? Messing with you was the plan, but then what? What after that? Was he being ridiculous? Did he just waste years of his life planning and plotting when he could’ve just let it all go and move on? Uni was years ago. Was this all a childish utter waste of time and energy? 

Fuck. He cursed himself. What was he doing? It was obvious that you weren’t the same person you were back then. People had the right to change and they did all the time. 

“Bucky?” Your voice dragged him back to reality. “Are you okay?” You got up from your chair and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him as you said, “Thank you for bringing me here, I love it.” You buried your face into his chest and sighed, “You seem tired. Can we get into the hot tub now? I think we both need to relax for a minute.” 

He looked down at you and nodded, smiling as he touched your face gently. “Of course, angel.” 

— 

Bucky knew he seemed distant while he was in the hot tub with you, not even the breathtaking view of the woods and the lights from the small town could cheer him up. His mind was far away, even while you were in his lap. 

“Hey,” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his rough cheek. “What’s going on with you?” You asked quietly. 

“Nothing.” He forced a soft smile and said, “Just work stuff.” 

You looked a little disappointed. “I thought you wanted this time away from everyone.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, your bare chest pressing against his. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll stop worrying about the rest of the world.” He nuzzled your neck and kissed you until you giggled, until that disappointed look on your face disappeared. “It’s just you and me.” 

Then what started out as innocent kisses, turned into steamy making out, then turned into the two of you fucking until you were completely spent. 

— 

The next two days went by quickly. Bucky lost track of time since he was so lost in you. It was so easy to pretend. To pretend that this was real and that he wasn’t just here with you because of some grunge he’d been nurturing since he was in his early twenties. 

But then came your last night here at his log home. And Bucky could barely sleep. He kept tossing and turning, while you were sleeping soundly next to him. He was feeling a lot. Anger, regret, guilt. 

He couldn’t stay in bed any longer. So he got up and walked downstairs, straight to that secret door behind which was his ‘study room’. This room contained everything he knew and had gathered about you since his uni days. Photographs, addresses, phone numbers, everything. And there, occupying the entirety of one of the walls was the bulletin board he used to keep track of everything. Where you went, who you met, details about people from your inner circle, literally everything. 

Bucky stood in front of the giant bulletin board that had a picture of you right in the middle, surrounded by pictures of you no one else had, pictures you didn’t even know were taken of you. In hotel lobbies, at airports, inside your homes, and more. Bucky’s eyes followed that red thread he used to mark each step of his ‘plan’, and the rope ended here – at the log house. The was plan was simple, all he had to do was– 

“What the hell is this?” A shaky voice asked from behind him. 

Bucky froze for a second, then kept his calm. Fuck it. He wasn’t gonna be able to pretend for much longer anyway. “I thought you were sleeping.” 

He turned around and faced you. You stood at the door which he carelessly forgot to lock behind him. There, in your pink PJs, looking at him with accusation and fear in your eyes. He hated that look. Suddenly Bucky was even angrier, at himself, at the situation he thought he had under control, at everything. 

He knew how this looked. He was standing a few feet away from you with a poker face, and that damn wall behind him was like a silent but deadly monster ready to pounce. He noticed the way you were shaking already. 

“Who are you?” You asked him, hands trembling even as you tried to keep your calm. Acting rash wouldn’t help you. 

So smart. So brave. 

“Forgot me so soon, angel?” Bucky scoffed, “You don’t remember me? It’s only been, what, like ten years since uni? James? The kid with glasses you liked to bully? You’d slash my tires for fun,” He began listing, “You’d make up rumours about me, you’d chased away all the friends I made, you’d cast me out and make sure I was alone all the time, you really did act like it was your world and we were all just living in it back then, remember? You and your minions?” Bucky shook his head, “I know you remember.” 

A shaky exhale, then you whispered under your breath, as if to yourself, starting to back away as the realisation set in. “No… why would you–,” 

Bucky reached for and grabbed your wrist before you could get away from him. He slammed the door shut behind you and pushed you against it. Once locked, the door only opened with the code was entered. And you didn’t know the code, so you were well trapped with him in this room. 

“Why would I?” He asked, dramatically. Placing his hands on the door behind you, trapping you between the hard, cold wood and his body, his tattooed, bare chest pressing against you. Bucky said, “Because you made my life hell that’s why. I’m not that kid anymore.” He whispered, his tone icy and mean. “I’m all grown up now, and I deserve to have some fun, don’t I?” He watched as tears fell down your face. “Aww, are you crying, baby? Hmm?” He leaned closer to you and whispered against the side of your trembling mouth, knowing his beard felt rough against your skin, “You ruined my plans with your pretty face, with that sweet look in your eyes, and your addicting fucking pussy, and now you’re crying?” He taunted, enjoying the way you gasped in surprise at his crude words. 

He also noted how you didn’t even try to push him away. It’s like you rolled over and admitted defeat. You weren’t even trying to fight back. But you did look terrified. 

Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “I intended to mess with you for a little bit, and make you pay for how you treated me all those years ago.” He explained. “But having you mess with my head in return wasn’t in the plans, you know?” 

“Please,” You whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please let me go. I’ll do anything, Bucky. I’m sorry.” More tears rolled down your cheeks. “Please.” You begged again. 

Bucky, despite the guilt he’d felt just moments ago, scoffed in your face with a smirk on his own. “That’s not what you were begging for just an hour ago, was it?” Bucky pouted and then with his best whiny voice mocked you, “‘oh please baby, that’s it, fuck you feel so good. More, more, please, oh fuck please–,” 

You cut him off with a slap across the face. Bucky chuckled like an asshole, not feeling the pain at all, even though it sent his face sideways because he wasn’t expecting it. And somehow getting a reaction out of you tasted so sweet. He wanted more. 

“Do you remember now? Remember how you made my life miserable?” He asked. 

Sniffling, you asked him back, “What do you want? I said I was sorry.” 

“Oh no. You don’t get to just apologise. For four years of my life, I’d wake up every single day and hate it.” He said. “Because of you and your cool group of friends.” His tone was so bitter it was unrecognizable. “Did it make you feel good? Making fun of me? Did it make you feel all big and powerful, picking on me?” 

You shook your head, sniffling. Looking like you regretted it now. Part of him wanted to end this weird interrogation, but he also needed to know, didn’t he? 

So he asked. “Then why did you do it?” 

Silence. 

One of his hands left the door and wrapped itself around your throat. Bucky felt how you tensed under his touch as he pressed himself against you even more, making sure you couldn’t slip away. 

“Buck–,” You squealed, but the way he tightened his grip just a little made you stop. 

Bucky continued with his taunts. “Writing all those things on my door. Spreading rumours about me. Ruining any chance I had at real friendships with people. You think that was funny?” 

You finally found your voice, though quiet and pleading. “Those were stupid, childish pranks, Bucky please, and I am so s–” 

He cut you off again, raising his voice a little. “Childish pranks to you! For me those childish pranks of yours made my life hell for four years.” He scoffed. “You were the popular girl everyone wanted. Your parents were rich. You had everything most of us didn’t have. So why did you do it?” He questioned. “Why did you pick on me? Why not the others? What did I ever do to you to deserve that treatment?” His voice went down so low it made you tremble. 

He loved it. The power he held in that moment. For a moment, he wished the younger him had felt half the way he felt right now. He decided to mess with you just a little more. Scaring you with his words, because he knew he could never hurt you. Not like this. “We’re all alone up this mountain, you know?” He said, in a calm voice that only made your tears flow even more. “No neighbours,” He reminded you. “No one to hear you scream, no one to help you.” He surprised himself with how cold he sounded, like he was someone else. 

“Please.” You begged, unable to say anything else. 

“I used to dream about this, you know?” He confessed. “About having you at my mercy. About having you plead and beg me.” He chuckled, staring right into your eyes. “It’s fucked up, you see? I could never understand it.” 

He tilted his head to the side, sliding his thigh in between your legs, loving the way you gasped and instinctively, mindlessly spread your legs ever so gently to let him in, it was barely noticeable. 

“As much as I hated you before, as much as you were a total bitch to me, I never stopped wondering what it would be like to be inside you.” He scoffed, as if at a memory. “I used to fantasize about it back in uni too. I always wondered what it would be like to have you open and soft and wet for me.” He pressed his leg up against your core. “To hear you purr and moan, and fuck me,” He laughed, “You’re better than what I imagined.” 

You were trapped in place, unable to move, unable to look away. Bucky could tell you were scared, but there was something else in your eyes that he couldn’t quite name. A strange calmness of sorts. 

Bucky continued his monologue, rubbing his thigh so gently in between your legs. He doubted you even noticed because all you did was stare at him with teary eyes, that strange look in them, and your soft mouth slightly open. “So what is it about you, huh?” He squeezed his hand around your throat for just a second before letting go, he could feel your pulse quicken. “What is it about this god damn pussy that made me ruin my own plans.” He scoffed in disappointment. “I never intended to keep you around for so long. I wanted to bring you up here as quickly as possible, mess with you a little bit, scare you and send you running. And in the meantime make you regret how you treated me all those years ago.” 

Bucky pulled his thigh away from yours, and smirked when you gasped at the loss of contact. Ah, so you were enjoying it. He was sure he looked just as smug as he felt. 

“But,” Bucky continued, “All I’ve done since I met you is be buried deep into that pussy. And anytime I’m not in there I think about it. About you. About your taste. The sounds you make when I’m fucking you. The way you say my name. The way you look under me. The way your arms and legs wrap around me so perfectly…” He trailed off, noticing the way you squeezed your eyes shut, as if not facing him would erase all those weeks you spent tangled with one another. 

“Look at me,” He murmured, still in that mean and cold voice. The one he could barely recognise. He didn’t sound like someone who hated you. He sounded like someone who was obsessed. “A few weeks in your company and I’m willing to do just about anything to keep you looking at me with that dreamy look in your eyes.” He said, sincerely. “I wanna give you everything. Wanna take you anywhere you wanna go. Show you everything. Make all your wishes come true.” 

He noticed your eyes were still shut. So he got bolder, he reached for your hair and grabbed a fistful securely in his grip, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to open your eyes in fear, panic, and… that strange look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Look at me!” He hissed. “Look at what you’ve done to me! Haven’t you fucked with my head enough?!”

You spoke up this time. Pleading again, “Bucky, I’m so sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t– I wasn’t thinking back then.” You sniffled. “I was so stupid, everything I did was so stupid, Bucky please. I really am sorry.” 

“Yeah?” He sounded bored. Then like a switch, he went back to being icy again. “You wanna make up for it?” 

A blink. Silence. Then you said, “Don’t hurt me.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Oh baby,” He cooed, “Is that what you think I’m gonna do? Hurt you? If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it that same night at the bar.” He shook his head, his hand leaving your hair, coming down to trace the shape of your mouth. “Hurting you was never in the plans.” 

You shivered. 

“Making you beg for it was.” He stated. “And you will.” He sounded so confident. “You will beg me for it, won’t you? Hmm? You’ll beg me to fuck you. And then you’re gonna say you’re sorry. And you’ll really mean it this time. You want that, don’t you, baby?” He smirked. “Of course you do. Otherwise why would you be rubbing yourself all over me like that?” 

You froze, probably just now realising what you’d been doing this whole time. Bucky couldn’t help the smug smirk. Oh fuck, this is everything he’s ever dreamt of. So he reached for you, his hands sliding right up in between your legs. 

He watched how you frowned for a moment as he rubbed his fingers against your clothed, but embarrassingly wet folds. Your thin, little satin shorts were barely a barrier. 

“Oh?” He teased, “Treating you like a little slut doesn’t turn you off, does it?” He pulled you closer by your throat and you shivered again, whimpering quietly. You gasped as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “You filthy, little whore.” He chuckled, then pushed your shorts and underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out an involuntary moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. “Yeah? You like that?” 

“Please…” You pleaded, still not pushing him away. Your hands remained at your sides. Your body felt warm under his touch, and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Please what?” He almost growled as he slid a finger inside you and felt you immediately clench hard around him. “See? This is what I’m talking about. It was so much easier to hate you when I didn’t know what you felt like, what you tasted like,” He spoke, his lips leaving your mouth and trailing to your ear where he whispered, “Now all I wanna do is get inside you and make you happy.” He sighed, then chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “What the hell are you doing to me?” 

Hearing you whine and gasp as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you was divine. 

He added another finger. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Do you feel powerful now as you did back then? Hmm?” He spoke against your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face as he pulled away just a little to look at you. “Is this where you thought you’d be one day, you little slut? At my mercy?” He chuckled, removing his hands from in between your legs as he pulled you away from the door, keeping his hand at your throat simply because he wanted to and moved you until you were sitting on the edge of his large, nearby desk. 

He stepped away for a moment, just to look at you and your slightly disheveled state. Your satin PJs sticking to your now damp with sweat skin. You were breathing heavily, your hands clutching the edge of his desk for dear life. 

“I want you to get naked and bend over the desk.” 

You remained frozen in place, even when the order left his lips. Bucky toyed with his lip ring, before pulling it into his mouth while he stared into your eyes. “Did you not hear me?” 

Finally finding your voice, you whispered again, “Bucky, I said I was sorry.” 

Bucky stepped closer until he stood right in front of you and reached out to grab your hair at the back of your neck again, fisting it securely in his grip as he tugged just a little to tilt your head back. It seemed to be the only way he got your attention. He leaned in to nuzzle your neck, kissing along your throat, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I don’t want your apology. I want you begging for me. Now, didn’t you hear what I said? I told you to bend over the desk for me.” He used that tone again, the icy one. The one that said you were in trouble if you didn’t do what he asked. 

So you did. 

When he released you, you held his stare with some cold defiance in your eyes as you discarded your PJs. You’d gotten naked with him multiple times over the last month or two, so this was nothing. Once done, you turned around and bent over the edge of his large desk. 

You sighed in defeat when your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head. You ass pressed against the front of his sweatpants and you whimpered at the feel of his thick, hard cock beneath the fabric, rubbing against your soft folds. 

You felt his hands on your body. He placed his hands on each side of your waist and caressed your body, rubbing up and down along your sides, touching your ass but not once touching you right where you needed him to. 

You gasped, then he noticed you quickly bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud. 

He scoffed before pinching your skin to make you gasp again, “I wanna hear every little sound you make.” He finally trailed his fingers down in between your legs and lazily traced along your slit. “So wet and ready for me.” He chuckled. 

He heard your gasping and whimpering as quietly as you could as he lazily finger-fucked you. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you. Teasing you a bit more before pulling out. 

Bucky lowered his sweats to free his cock, then his hands were on you again. He grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet. 

He waited, he could almost feel your heart racing as he did nothing but wait for a reaction from you. He caught the way you discretely tried to push back into him but he moved away, chuckling as you whined in desperation. 

“Aww, what is it?” He asked, leaning over your exposed back. His chest pressing down onto you as he whispered into your ear. “You want this cock? Huh? You want it so bad, don’t you?” He hissed, “Then beg for it, slut.” 

He heard a weak, “Please,” but that wasn’t enough now, was it? 

“I said, beg.” 

“Please… Bucky, I– I want your cock. So bad.” You whispered. “Please, can I have it?” Like you were ashamed of wanting him. “I’ll be good from now on, I promise.” 

He wasn’t expecting that last part, but honestly, how sweet was it to hear! 

Pleased with your begging, Bucky groaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, feeling your walls tighten around him. You whimpered as he filled you up, stretching you as he went. 

He pulled out and thrust deep into you once again, making you moan and gasp under him. “You’ll be good, huh?” He reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down at your lower back as he started rocking into you. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. “Just this cock has you acting right, huh?” He laughed as he fucked deep into you, your front bumping against the edge of the desk each time. 

“Yes…,” You admitted. You whimpered as he pounded even harder into you at the sound of that confession. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Yeah? Not such a proud, arrogant little slut now, are you?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. “Huh? You’re not as bitchy as you were back then, look at you now. All nice and bent over my desk.” He hissed, “Don’t you dare fucking come yet!” 

You whined, “Bucky, I can’t-,” 

He cut you off quickly, “Yes you fucking can.” He snarled. “You said you were gonna be good from now on, right? Well hold it then, don’t fucking come yet.” He slammed his cock harder into you, making your eyes squeeze shut. He thrust so deep into you that even the desk moved a little, screeching as it did across the floor. 

A loud moan escaped your mouth and Bucky smirked. Looks like you were enjoying this a little too much, huh? He couldn’t have that just yet, now could he? So he pulled out and pulled you up and off the desk, turning you around so you faced him. 

Your lips parted as you gasped for air, your tear stained face was a sight to behold. And that wild hunger in your eyes because even given the situation, he fucked you good and knew how to make you want more of it, and he knew that. 

“Get on your knees.” He ordered. “Now.” 

He was surprised at how quick you were, obeying immediately, falling perfectly on your knees in front of him. You watched him with a hunger in your teary eyes. And that strange look still. You kept your eyes on his as he grabbed his glistening cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth, spreading your own wetness all over your mouth and said, “Be a good little slut, and suck.” 

You did. You opened wide as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into your mouth. You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat. He gripped the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he spoke, “Now, worship this fucking cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for. He smirked as you began moving immediately, “That's it. Make me fucking come, you filthy little slut.” 

You looked up at him, and for a moment, Bucky was fully captivated. Like he was in a trance. There you were, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do. Just like how he’d always dreamt of. 

“Oh, look at you,” He cooed, as if mocking you. “Working hard for this cock, huh? Remember that night at the bar, bet you wanted it right there. You could barely wait to have it, could you? You barely bothered to ask me my full name,” He chuckled. “You were just so hungry for it.” Bucky let out a carefree chuckle as he looked down at you, “Tell me, do you still want it just the same now that you know who I really am?” He asked, knowing damn well you couldn’t respond with his cock filling your mouth. 

Another tear dropped from your eye, but then you nodded awkwardly, mouth still around his tip. 

“Yeah, you do. ‘Cause you’re nothing but a cock hungry little slut, aren’t you?” He groaned at the sight of you with your mouth full and said, “That’s it. Get up.” 

You listened, and he shoved you up on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. His hand grabbed you by the chin, holding your face in place as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease, making you gasp as he began fucking you again. 

“Look at you,” He spoke through gritted teeth, now fucking you with a rougher pace. “Fucking disgusting with spit and precum all over your mouth,” He whispered, leaning in just to mess with you – not once kissing you. He pushed your thighs further apart so he could fuck you deeper. 

“Bucky…” You gasped. 

“What, slut?” He fucked deeper into you, pounding into you relentlessly. “Your little cunt feels so good, you know that? So fucking tight,” He whispered against your mouth, before pulling away to spit into your open mouth, not once stopping his thrusts. “It’s a shame you were such a bitch back then, otherwise you could’ve had this cock a long time ago.” 

“Please…” You whined as he pounded into you aggressively. A tear slipped out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah? You’re sorry now?” 

You nodded. 

Bucky felt your walls clench violently around him. “Fuck,” He growled into your ear, “Are you gonna come for me? You're gonna come all over this cock? Huh?”  

“Yes,” You whimpered, “Yes, please.” You cried in pleasure and pain. “Please, Buck.” 

“Damn it!” He groaned. “Fuck you! Fuck you for being so good. For messing with my head.” He hissed, staring deep into your eyes, “And fuck you for not letting me enjoy this as much as I wanted to because I can’t bring myself to fucking hurt you!”  

Bucky slowed down just a little, making you cry out. 

“I dreamt of this, you know? All I’ve ever done is think about this moment right here. I always thought I’d scare you to a point where you take off running,” He scoffed, “Hell, I even fantasized about chasing after you in these damn woods!” He shook his head, still holding your stare. “Look at me now, look! Even now I couldn’t help but make it nice and good for you. To fuck you like I know you like it. I couldn’t help but be buried deep inside you yet again!” 

“I’m sorry,” You whined, “I really am.” 

Bucky wanted to punch himself. 

“Shut the fuck up and come for me!” 

A loud cry, then you came – mumbling and whining and crying. A complete mess on his desk. 

Bucky followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh so tightly that his fingers would surely leave a bruise behind. He caught you just as you fell forward into his chest, unable to hold yourself up as you caught your breath. 

Bucky calmed himself down, let out a sigh and glared at that damned, giant bulletin board covering the entire wall behind you as he wrapped his arms around your shaking body. God damn it. 

—

Reader’s POV: 

Your memory was a little hazy after that. You remembered bits and pieces. How he got you into the shower. His gentle touches, even as he washed himself. His hands and how they never left your body, holding you close and cleaning you up as best he could. 

Him whispered, “I’ve got you.” Over and over again. Like he was guilty. 

You remember you tried talking to him, as he dried you with a fluffy towel, “You hate me.” It came out like a statement. 

“Be quiet.” His icy voice snapped, and he refused to meet your eyes. The coldness of his tone and the soothing, gentle touch of his hands were giving you a whiplash. But you took it. Of course, you did. 

“Would you ever forgive me?” You asked him as he wrapped your favourite fluffy robe around you and brought you to bed. It was late, closer to sunrise than midnight. “Could you?” 

Bucky finally looked at you and said, “Just… be quiet.” His tone was much softer than earlier. “Here, drink this.” He handed you some water. You accepted it, sipping on it as you let him fuss over the bedding and blankets until he made a nice little nest for you to sink into. 

You thought he’d tuck you in and leave, probably to go back to that weird lair of his downstairs. But no, he got in after you. Quiet, and grumpy as he was, he still pulled in to cuddle like you two had the habit of doing for the past month or two. 

You hid your face into his chest, sighing and breathing in his scent, letting his body heat warm you up. You could hear the wind picking up outside, but that was none of your concern. 

A minute went by in silence, in darkness, except for the bedside lamp which illuminated the room with a soft golden glow. Another minute went by, Bucky breathed steadily. His hands moving up and down your back. Both of you were quiet. 

There was so much you wanted to say to him, but all that came out was, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

He sighed, then let out a mindless, “Hmm.” 

“I really am.” You whispered again, snuggling closer as if you wanted to get inside his skin. 

Another careless, “Hmm.” 

You sniffled, feeling like crying again. “Please forgive me.” 

“Stop crying.” He said, gently this time. 

“I’ll make up for it.” You found yourself saying. “I’ll do anything. I mean it.” 

Bucky sighed. “Oh yeah? How will you make up for it?” He said, with just a hint of pleasantry in his tone. 

“How many kids do you want?” 

Bucky chuckled. Genuinely chuckled, not like the mocking ones from earlier. But this was boyish, and very him. “You’re finishing your book tour soon.” He said. “Then you’ve got to start on your new project.” He sighed again, sounding a little tired and spent. “No kids for now, angel.” 

Silence again. This silence felt way less tense than before. Bucky’s movements were getting slower and slower as he relaxed more and more. 

Then out of nowhere you asked, “Have you… ever read any of my books?” 

A pause. Then he said, “All of them.” 

That took you by genuine surprise. “All of them?” 

“All of them.” 

You hesitated to ask, “Do you like them? 

Bucky let out a soft chuckle. “Do I like them?” He taunted. “Look at me. I became what you write about.” Then he reached for your face, tilting your head up so he could look at you. “Yes I do. I like them.” He said. “You’re very talented, baby. You deserved all the attention and recognition you get.” 

“Oh.” 

Silence again. You looked away from him, but he must’ve been able to see the gears turning in your head so he gently smacked your thigh and said, “Stop thinking.” He pulled the covers around you once again, making sure you were nice and warm. “Go to sleep.” He said. 

You snuggled deeper into his side, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. A few minutes went by, and Bucky fell asleep before you did. He began snoring softly just moments after. 

You stayed awake though. Thinking, caressing his bare chest. After all, how could one sleep after finally getting to where they plotted to be for the last ten years? You hid a smirk as you kissed Bucky’s warm, tattooed chest. You whispered, quietly, “Took me a decade to get to you, Buck. But it was all worth it.” You snuggled deeper into his side. Smiling at his adorable snores. 

Bucky was indeed a mastermind. Stalking you, following your each and every move. Keeping track of where you were and where you went at all times, who you met and what you did. It couldn’t have been easy. 

He thought he alone plotted this whole thing. He thought that he was the only one manipulating circumstances in ways to get what he wanted. Into getting you to let your guard down and let him in. Thinking you didn’t recognise him that night you met at the bar. 

Thinking you forgot. 

You let out a little chuckle, “Oh Buck. You did so well. But you don’t know half the work I put into all this.” You sighed, kissing his bare chest again, “Do you even know how much work goes into

manipulating someone into thinking they’re successfully manipulating you?” 

Bucky was a mastermind. Each one of his moves were perfectly calculated. He was so smart. He’d always been, ever since uni. 

But Bucky wasn’t the only mastermind. Because you plotted too. 

Always holding or attending book signings, readings, or other events in cities he was in. Always being around, but right outside of his circle – enough so that in these past ten years, he never stopped hearing about you from friends or colleagues, or friends of friends. Always making sure your advertisements were on billboards that were near his houses, offices, hang out spots, etc. 

All that was by your design. You made sure you’d never leave his head. 

You do admit, being mean to him in uni was stupid and unforgivable. But what else were you supposed to do? How else were you going to live rent free in his head? He never made a move on you in uni because he was also so intimidated. Always so shy, and quiet. 

So you did what you had to do. Sure, it took years. And the whole time, you let him think he was the only one orchestrating this. You let him think his manipulation techniques were working. You let him think he was punishing you when really, you’d been dreaming of these punishments ever since you saw him that first day on campus. 

Earlier, in the study, when you saw that bullet board and froze – it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of surprise. You knew Bucky always kept a close eye on you and everything you did these past years. You even let him. You let his guys follow you around, you let them overhear details you wanted Bucky to know. You let Bucky watch you, purposely lingering around cameras whenever you were out. 

But you didn’t know his obsession mirrored yours. Because if he would’ve searched your penthouse a little more thoroughly, he would’ve found a similar bulletin board that you’d been keeping for years now – tracking him and all that he did. 

You placed another kiss on Bucky’s chest and sighed in bliss. “You’re not the only mastermind, baby. But it’s not a competition now, is it? We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?” You asked, looking up to see his peaceful, sleeping face. “Huh, baby? It’s alright. You’re a tiny bit sloppy with your stalking skills, but never mind. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.” 

---

a/n: it's been a while huh-

[heartyluv]

🎥˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° ✩

Note: Y’all this one is dirty, omg LOLL. I enjoyed writing it so, I hope you enjoy reading it. ♡

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,418

Summary: Caleb makes sure your ex knows that you’re a happily married woman.

PossessiveCamboy!Caleb/Reader

Marrying the man whose content you silently consumed for months was not what you expected, but it’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you.

It was random the day you stumbled upon Caleb’s page. You were one of his first few dozen supporters at the time when he only posted erotic audios. You were entertained and turned on after hearing him moan and whimper into his microphone, touching yourself and wishing it was you that he was pleasing.

You left likes and even paid for tiered subscriptions where he offered more filthy work. It was as he grew in popularity that you started feeling more comfortable to actually leave comments, figuring you’d be in the ocean of thousands and one of the last people he’d respond to.

But, it threw you completely off when he actually replied to your comment where you told him how much you loved his work.

“Thank you, pretty girl. I’m so thankful for your support. I do it for you.”

If you were crazy enough, you would’ve tattooed it on your forehead. After that, you decided to leave more comments and he replied to every single one. It made you feel special, in a weird way.

As Caleb grew more, he started to produce actual videos of himself from the neck down. You’ve never seen a body or a cock so perfect. Every time he stroked himself, whispered how close he was to coming, it was like you could feel him inside of you.

About a year after, he proposed the idea of revealing his face if his fans helped him reach a goal he was going for. It was like the internet broke with how fast they reached and surpassed it.

He was absolutely gorgeous, the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Those soft eyes, that fluffy hair, and those perfect lips had you mesmerized. The way he laughed and joked with fans on that livestream like they were friends and not people who paid to watch him come was oddly comforting. It reminded you that he really was human at the end of the day.

But, you found yourself unable to leave comments anymore. For some reason, it felt like he was a secret that was too famous for you to enjoy. It was selfish, you knew that. You still paid for his subscription, but you stopped interacting and stopped watching.

The man ended up messaging you privately, saying that he was just checking in on you. You were floored. Not only had he remembered who you were, but he took the time to actually contact you. From that point on, you two just clicked and had late night texts, exchanged phone numbers, had video calls, to eventually meeting him in person after you two found out you lived in the same state.

It was history from there. You two dated for a few years before he proposed to you. Now, you live in your shared home while he still creates content for people’s pleasure with you occasionally joining.

You never would’ve thought you’d do something like this, but with Caleb, you trusted him and you were comfortable.

It started when Caleb did a livestream where he was stern and clear about his relationship with you once you had gotten serious.

“I’m going to continue to create. I still enjoy it and my girl is very accepting of that. But, you will respect her and me, should you ever see her. I won’t hesitate to handle anything that’s even remotely disrespectful to her.”

His fans were surprisingly welcoming. You offered to be on a stream one night where Caleb was putting together this aircraft with hundreds of little blocks. Besides erotic content, your husband played video games, built little projects, and interacted with fans like it was a sleepover.

They absolutely loved you. Many said you were funny, pretty, and radiant. They loved you so much that they suggested him doing videos with you. After making sure you were really okay with it, you and Caleb tried it out and it’s been amazing.

Getting paid to fuck your husband and play games with him? Who could ask for anything better?

You started gaining popularity on your other social networks, but you kept that other part of you mainly where you and Caleb posted your videos. If anyone followed you, it was because they genuinely liked and enjoyed you as an individual and you couldn’t be more thankful for such a lovely mass of people.

Recently though, you’ve had a little bit of an issue that you haven’t shared with your husband. Your ex.

It’s obvious that he’s seen what you do now. He followed you randomly one day, but you thought nothing of it. You two split amicably, so there was no bad blood. At lease you thought. Then he started to like your posts and leave comments. You ignored him, of course.

It got worse when he started actually sending requests to the page you and Caleb posted to. The only way you knew it was him was because he used a picture of his two dogs as the profile picture. You always got to them before Caleb saw and deleted it. You blocked him, but he just made more accounts. Your ex didn’t care that you were married, didn’t care that there was legit videos online of you getting fucked by your husband. He still pushed his luck.

You and Caleb are open to requests and if the money’s right and what’s being asked is reasonable, you’ll fulfill a fan’s desires and send it to them for their private pleasure.

Your ex takes advantage of that feature and sends the same thing every time: I want this to be personal. Send me a video of you.

A measly $50 was always attached to it. It was disrespectful and you knew Caleb. He’d lose his fucking mind. It’s why you hid it and handled it the best way you knew how. But that all went to shit the day your ex sent multiple of the same request from different accounts.

Caleb saw the influx of repeated notifications. He was only upset with you for hiding this from him. He could only protect you if he was kept in the loop. But he was fuming with your ex.

“I’ll kill him,” he said to you as you stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and head down. You felt embarrassed.

“Baby, look at me,” he stepped forward, cupping your soft face in his large hand. “It’s alright. You’re okay, we’re okay,” he sighs. “Do you know why he could be doing this?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you looked up into his eyes. “He used to do dumb things like this. The whole trolling thing was his personality. He’s just being a dick.”

“You think he wants you back?” he quirked a brow.

“I have no clue,” you answer honestly.

Caleb hums, tracing your lip with his thumb, then an idea sparks in his mind. “Why don’t we give him what he wants.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Caleb, hon… What the hell are you talking about? I’m not sending him a damn thing.”

“No, you’re not,” he confirms. “But we are.”

Your propped up leg swayed side to side as you laid down on the bed in you and Caleb’s room. You were anxious as all hell, but the idea of making your ex pay for a video of you getting fucked by your man made your body hot.

You and Caleb were already naked and you watched how his half-hard cock bobbed up and down as he walked over to the lamp to set the phone in front of it to get a good angle of you two and the bed. Already, you were aching for him.

Before he sets it down, he presses the red button to start the recording and smiled mischievously to the camera. “You wanted a video, here’s your video.”

After it’s set up, he’s on top of you in seconds. He devours your mouth, sticking his tongue down your throat while his cock gently brushes against your pussy. The way you moan into his mouth makes him grind against you with unbridled passion.

“Let me eat, baby,” he whispers before kissing your lips again. “Let me taste my pussy.”

You’ll never get used to his dirty mouth. You fucking love it.

“But I want your cock,” you mewl prettily. He chuckles, kissing your neck.

“We can eat together.”

You two stand and Caleb lays down first. He turns to the camera as you climb on top, your pussy in his face and his cock in yours. “I’ll make sure to tell you what she tastes like so you can dream about it.”

You smile to yourself and Caleb is quick to pull you down, pressing his nose into your cunt and feasting on you like you’re the last supper. Your back arches as you cry out, whining at how good his tongue fucks your tight hole. “Absolutely divine,” he growls and mumbles into your flesh, staking his claim.

“Put my cock in that pretty mouth, baby. Let me feel you,” he says quickly so that he can get back to leaving long licks with his tongue flat against your pussy lips. You open your mouth, sucking him down and into your throat. Your hums vibrate around his length, making him shudder.

You stroke him as you suck, gagging and spitting on his perfect dick. You pull off of him with a small pop, admiring how the precum seeps out of his tip. You use it to lubricate him, licking up the semi-salty liquid like ice cream.

“How do I taste?” you ask him lustfully through a whimper as your hand works his cock. His spits on your pussy, licking and sucking your clit to make you almost lose your balance.

“I did say I’d describe it, didn’t I?” he teases. “You taste like…” he licks you again as if he’s making sure one more time. “My fucking wife.”

That makes you moan, clenching around his tongue as he gives your hole what it’s begging for.

“I want you to fuck me Caleb,” you beg as his licks further up and closer to your other hole. You shiver, pleasure fueled tears brimming your eyes.

Caleb wants you to come on his face, but how can he let his pretty little wife be deprived of the cock that belongs to her any longer?

“Come sit on it,” he says seductively.

Your pussy feels like it’s dripping. You climb off of him, letting the camera get a good shot of your breasts and your entire plush body. Caleb takes your hand like you’re getting ready to board a carriage, biting his lip with a smile as he guides his princess onto her noble steed.

You can’t deal with anymore foreplay or teasing, needing your husband’s cock deep inside you. You kiss him once you’re on top again. You like how he’s giving you control, but still making it very clear that you belong to him and only him.

You taste yourself on his tongue and hope that his taste is giving him the same high that it gave you.

“Put me in,” he mumbles.

You’re a pro at this by now, it’s muscle memory. You don’t even need to see. You reach between you two, grasping his length and lining him up with where he needs to be before gently bringing your hips down. Your body sucks him in, already familiar with how perfect you fit together.

You start to bounce, your ass rippling against his firm thighs as his hands roughly grab your hips to guide you. His cock kisses your cervix, making you ride him harder.

His hand comes up to grip your jaw as you stare into his eyes. “Let me taste it.”

“Yeah?” you say softly as your breasts jump.

He nods, opening his mouth for you. And you spit in it, your core clenching with how he swallows and licks his lips like he’s been given a tasty treat.

The camera catches all of this, the slight squeaks of the bed, the slapping of the skin, the lewd words and actions.

His hand grasps your throat when you sit up, trailing down your body as he cups a breast to quickly tease a taut nipple, and down further for his thumb to stimulate your aching clit.

Caleb reached out with his other hand to grab the phone, getting the perfect angle of the way your slick sticks between the both of you and how he easily slides in and out. His cock is glistening with your juices while you lose yourself in the pleasure.

Your hand comes down to caress his hard stomach, your large diamond ring to represent your union glistening in the frame.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls as your hips stutter, letting him feel how close you are.

“This is all mine,” he declares as you look down at him with a tired smile.

“Yours,” you repeat. “Oh, Caleb baby… I’m gonna come…”

“Cream on my cock, love... Let him see who this pussy weeps for.”

That’s the final thing you need. You brace your hands on his thighs behind you as your orgasm takes control of your soul. You come hard and fast and he spills deep inside of you at the same time, groaning your name as you scream his. The mix of cum starts to pool out of where you’re connected and your legs shake as you rest, letting the sticky substance get on your inner thighs.

Caleb brings the camera closer to your raw pussy, letting it capture how deep he is, how messy he’s made you. He uses his thumb to smear his spend all over, anywhere he can, biting his lip at how you whine.

Caleb flips the camera to show his flushed and thoroughly fucked face. He smiles.

“Thanks for the $50 and don’t message my wife again. Understood? I’m sure you can see how happy she is. Back the fuck off.”

He ends the video and you let your breath return to normal as he sends it and accepts the payment.

“Did it?” you ask softly.

“Done,” he nods. “You okay?”

You lean down, loving how he’s still inside of you. You press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thanks to you, I’m perfect.”

[antiiqueness]

DANCE WITH ME

character: bakugou katsuki warnings: none i can think of, just kinda sad to sweet and very sentimental >.< words: 1.2k

synopsis:

”Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that.”

notes: i luv him so much i wanna die. i'm in the works for a spooky little AU for him as well as one for tomura so stay tuned for those im vv excited hehe

Growing up Katsuki's parents wanted him to be the best. To do everything. His mother wanted him to find art in more aggressive sports and hobbies. His father however, pushed for actual art. Masaru had a genuine joy for the peaceful and quiet, something of which he couldn’t enjoy as much as he’d wished for with the home he lived in. Nevertheless, in the seldom moments he had of quiet, he danced, and painted, and sat in the garden of their home, enjoying the moments he had to himself and his thoughts.  

As a kid, Katsuki hated how his father would get in specific “moods” where he just wanted to be to himself and his thoughts. He never truly understood it growing up, until he met you. You were so alike to his father; wanting to sit and enjoy the peace you had in random little moments and increments. It was such a foreign concept to Katsuki.  

He looked at you as if you were an anomaly. When the two of you had first begun dating, he just didn’t get it, who would want to be in areas of time where no one could sit and appreciate what you do. At least with volleyball, and boxing, and debate classes you earn respect for doing it and winning.  

He would sit and watch you in seemingly your own world, planting flowers, or annotating classic literature and be brought back in time to when he was 12 years old seeing his dad sit in the garden reading the same exact book with a pencil in hand. Certain foods you would make, and specific songs you would play would remind him of his father and how much Katsuki truly missed him. 

It was raining out the day he saw you swinging on the porch with a cup of tea and a book in hand, when he had called his dad. He wanted to understand it; he wanted that same peace the two of you seemed to hold so dearly. He wanted to bond over it.  

As a kid his father wanted him to take ballroom dance classes, was adamant it would be a healthy outlet to learn to express himself and to get lost in. Mitsuki and Katsuki were not big on the idea though, brushing it off and pursing their interests that more often than not landed them or others in hospital beds.  

Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that. 

“I'm going to my parents for a bit, want me to grab anything on the way home?” Katsuki stood by the door of the backyard, looking out at the back of your head, you sitting silently in a chair, rocking back and forth. “No, I'm okay baby. Thank you.” quietly muttered as if it were a secret, you don’t turn around. He doesn't want you to. He just stands for a moment more before muttering a quick goodbye and closing the door.  

The drive itself is weird. He doesn’t know if it’s age or if he was having an odd midlife crisis, but he doesn’t speak a word the entire drive, just quietly excelling forward.  

When he arrives at the house he had grown up in, spent every memory of birthdays and holidays, where he learned to ride a bike, where he had his first tooth fall out, every memory lingering in the air around the house, he just stands at the door for a moment.  

He doesn’t know what was different this time, but something was. Maybe himself. Maybe he had finally grown up. He was changed, and content with it.  

His attention is only brought back to the present tense when the door opens, and he sees his father's brown eyes staring back at him. Katsuki doesn’t know what comes over him, but without saying a single word, he gently pushes his way into the house and grabs ahold of his father. He felt like a little kid all over again. He just wanted to hug and talk to his dad. He wanted to take those ballroom dance classes. He wanted to bond with him. 

So that's what they did. Masaru was a man of few words most his life, keeping relatively quiet and to himself, but coming completely out of his shell with his son now. He had taught Katsuki everything he wanted to learn with a small smile and a joy Katsuki had never seen in his father.  

By the end of the night Masaru had grabbed an old record and put it on the player, having classical music whirl throughout the house, before turning to Katsuki and teaching him how to dance. Mitsuki watched quietly, quieter than Katsuki had ever seen her, with a smile and tears gleaming her eyes, happy she could see her two favorite people bonding in ways she knew her husband had always wanted to with him. 

Katsuki felt closer to them, he felt as though he had truly understood family finally. He drove home with a smile, a calm, content smile that had rarely graced his handsome face, cheerful all the way up the steps to the home he shared with you.  

Opening the door, he knew his perspective had changed, knew that life was different, a good different, and that he was fortunate enough to share it with you. You had this lopsided smile on your face when you had seen him walk through the door, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him, covered in little raindrops.  

“I assume you had a good night at your parents’ place?” Helping him out of his jacket, you move to hang it on the rack before he stops you and interlaces his fingers with yours. “Let's dance.” he says simply, looking down at you with a look in his beautifully light eyes that gleamed and shone in enamor and affection.  

“What?” you laughed, taken aback and smiling even bigger, “Yeah, I wanna dance with you.” Tossing his phone onto the counter, the same song his father played for him started to drift throughout his new home, the home he shared with you, the home in which he held dearest of all, simply because you existed in it. you were his home.  

Grabbing ahold of you like his dad had shown him how to, he started to sway slowly, leaning his head against yours, and tightening his grip on your hips ever so lightly. He looked so odd, there was no anger, no irritation, no malice in his features whatsoever, just pure contentment. You wanted to live in this moment for the rest of the days you two had together, falling in love with him all over again.  

Katsuki Bakugou was great at many things, but as he grew and matured, he became great at understanding life, and how much peace was truly worth, especially if it meant this is how he could spend the rest of his life with you.  

[jeonslvz]

♡1: Laced Panties

A/N: Love it, give me 24 more of this! He’s so sexy, cold and hot in this ;) . love a good pierce n tatttoed man, Jungkook only ofc ! yeah this was never ment to be a series, it was originally going to be random one shots collection. However I loved it too much and made it into a chaotic series, so hope you enjoy that XD!

WC: 6k!

Warnings: read here , for mature audiences.

♡♡♡ | NEXT

His hands slip up your skirt as you lean over his desk, the soft fabric of your lace panties teasing him through the thin material. You can feel the warmth of his touch as he slides his fingers beneath the hem, his eyes never leaving his computer screen.

“Lace ones today?” he murmurs, the question low and almost distracted. His fingers tug at the edge of your underwear before snapping it back with a sharp, satisfying pop.

You bite your lip, trying to stay composed as he types up his daily sales report. But you know, deep down, he’s enjoying every second of this. And so are you.

He smacks the lace against your skin, the sting sharp, making you flinch and gasp. His hand hovers near your heat, fingers barely brushing, before pressing closer, feeling the warmth radiating off you. He doesn’t need to look to know exactly what he’s doing—he can feel the wetness building between your legs, the way your body responds to him, even when you’re trying to stay composed.

“You’re soaking wet,” he mutters, almost to himself, before pressing a little harder, just enough to tease and remind you that you’re his, no matter how much you try to hold back. His fingers hover for a moment, savoring the control, before he slowly slides one inside, testing how easily you open up for him.

“I like when you dress up like this, baby. Makes me want you more” he teases, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You look like you need a good thick cock.” He pulls your lace panties down slowly, watching the way you tense up, your body betraying you before you can stop it.

You feel a quiet shiver run through you, breath caught in your throat. You don’t need to say anything, not yet. Your eyes stay down, head slightly lowered, but you can feel the ache between your legs, the pull of need that’s too strong to ignore.

He doesn’t need to ask. He knows how badly you’re waiting for him to take over, to use you the way he wants. And despite the hesitation, despite the way your body feels soft and unsteady, you’re already ready—your silence speaks louder than words.

He rubs the wet fabric against you, slow and methodical, like he’s releasing his own little tension. You can’t help but twitch, your body reacting even when you’re trying to stay still. His fingers work the fabric, pressing against your heat as his other hand continues to type, never faltering.

“Almost done,” he mutters, the words casual, but his gaze flickers up from the computer, landing on your bent-over form. “But maybe a little stress relief won’t hurt.”

He pauses, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, the way you’re trembling without even realizing it. It’s almost too easy for him—too natural. His gaze sharpens, taking in the way your body reacts to the smallest touch. You don’t need to say anything, don’t need to beg. He already knows.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, his hand still working the fabric against your damp underwear. The feeling of you beneath him, so pliable, is stirring something in his mind. His grip tightens for a moment as he watches you twitch.

He’s thankful you’re in the home office. The public one wouldn’t be so bad—maybe the stares would only add to the heat that’s already building between your legs. Your skirt, so short it barely covers you, and your tight shirt, the fabric stretched just enough to tease. Your breasts practically spilling out, your ass jutting out like you’re begging for attention.

It’s all his, though. Every inch of you, every little movement, every way you crave him to look at you. He doesn’t need to ask to know that.

“You’d like my cock in you like this?” he teases, his voice low, almost playful. His two fingers hover just above your entrance, teasing you with the slightest touch before slowly sliding in, the motion controlled and deliberate. He bites the inside of his cheek, watching you carefully as your body reacts to the invasion.

You’re trembling, every part of you aching to feel more, but you stay silent, your breath shallow. You know what he wants. You know the way he enjoys watching you squirm, your body so eager and desperate, but still, you remain quietly receptive, just waiting for him to push further.

You grind back against his fingers, mindlessly chasing the friction, your body already reacting to his touch before you even fully realize what you’re doing. The movement is instinctive, desperate, as if your body knows exactly what it wants.

Suddenly, his non-tattooed arm comes down, spanking your cheek with a sharp crack. You flinch, a soft whine escaping your lips as the sting mixes with the pressure building inside you. The sound of his hand on your skin is like a command, and you writhe under it, lost in the rhythm he’s setting, too caught up in the need to think.

He knows what you need. You don’t need to say a word.

“Keep going baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with teasing approval. “Use my fingers. That’s what you’re good at for me.”

He watches you closely as you grind back against his hand, your body moving with an almost desperate need. Every motion, every little sound you make, just drives him more wild. His fingers press deeper, stretching you just enough to make you whimper, but he’s not in a hurry. Not yet. He’s enjoying every second of it—watching you unravel, all because of the way his fingers move inside you.

“Such a good girl for me, doing exactly what I want,” he teases, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips as you continue to grind, lost in the sensation.

He lifts your skirt up, his eyes immediately locking onto the way your body responds to his touch. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, watching the way your body shifts with each movement. You spread your legs wider, instinctively offering yourself to him, the sound of your breath shallow and desperate.

He lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how easy it is to make you react, to have you spread out for him. “Look at you, baby. Just like I want you—so willing, so needy.” His fingers continue their steady pace, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you, while his gaze stays fixed on the way you tremble under him.

“Please- more, please- more!” You whine, the words tumbling from your lips without thinking. Your body aches for more, desperate for him to push you further.

“Such a good little thing for me, aren’t you?” he coos, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his fingers slide out, leaving you empty and aching for more. You whine, barely able to form any coherent thought, your mind clouded with the need for him.

He wipes his wet fingers on your inner thighs, a slow, teasing motion as he watches your dazed expression. “Look at you… so dumb, so lost,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to gently trace your flushed cheeks, fingers brushing over your lips. “Can’t even think straight, can you? Just a pretty little doll, needing me to make you feel good.”

You can’t even form a proper response, only whimpering, desperate for him to take control completely. Your mind is nothing but fog, your body on autopilot, all you know is the ache between your legs and the way his touch makes you feel so completely his.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with possessive satisfaction. “So fucking dumb, so lost in me. Can’t even think of anything but how fucking badly you need my touch.” His fingers slide out of you, leaving you aching, desperate for more. He watches as your body trembles, the way you can barely stay upright as the emptiness eats at you.

He wipes his fingers slowly on your inner thighs, his gaze hungry, almost frantic. “You’re mine, baby. All mine. You can’t even think straight, can you? Just a dumb little doll, letting me do whatever I want to you.” His hand finds your cheek, lifting your face to meet his gaze.

“You need me, don’t you? You’re so fucking needy, just begging for more of me, but I’ll give it to you when I want to. I own you, and you love it.” His grip tightens as he forces you to hold his stare, his words pushing deeper into your fogged mind. “Ah- so perfect for me, all soft, all mine. I could do whatever I want to you, and you wouldn’t even remember what it feels like to be anything else.”

You can barely respond, your mind hazy and body trembling, but he doesn’t need you to. His control over you is all that matters.

He turns you around with ease, like positioning his favorite toy exactly how he wants. One hand guides your waist, the other patting the armrest of his chair. “Up, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. “Right here.”

You lift your leg, placing your foot where he wants it—obedient, pliant, trembling. He hums in approval, settling back in his chair like he’s about to enjoy a full-course meal.

“Let me taste it,” he says, eyes dark and fixed between your legs, voice low but dripping with need. “Been teasing me, getting your pussy all wet like that… you knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hands settle on your thighs, spreading you open like you belong there—because you do. Because you’re his. And he’s about to make sure you never forget it.

He leans in without hesitation, his breath hot against your soaked heat. Then his mouth finds your clit—latching on like he’s starving for you. His tongue moves slow at first, purposeful, circling the swollen bud before flicking over it in sharp, wet strokes.

You jolt, your leg twitching where it rests on the arm of his chair, but his grip tightens on your thigh, grounding you. “Stay still, baby,” he murmurs against you, his voice muffled but commanding, “I’m not done.”

His mouth works you over with practiced, possessive precision—licking, sucking, tasting like he belongs there. Because he does. This is his. The way your body twitches, the way your breath catches, the way your knees nearly give out under the heat of his tongue—it’s all for him. Always has been.

And he eats like he needs it. Like you’re the only thing that’s ever satisfied him.

His tongue doesn’t rush—he licks you like he has all the time in the world. Slow, warm strokes over your clit, like he’s memorizing the shape of your need. Each flick is deliberate. Lazy. Like he’s tasting something rare, something only he gets to have.

Your thigh trembles where he holds it, and he notices. Of course he does.

“Sensitive already?” he murmurs against you, lips brushing the spot he was just licking. “Didn’t even really start.”

His hands smooth up your thighs, slow and grounding, his fingertips sinking into your skin like he wants to feel every reaction under his palms. You can’t think. You don’t need to. Your breath comes in quiet little gasps, body trying to arch closer, but he holds you in place with just enough pressure to make sure you stay exactly where he wants you.

“You just stand there and be good for me,” he hums, tongue sliding back over your clit with devastating calm. “Let me take care of this dumb little ache.”

And he does. Patient. Possessive. Like this is what he was made for.

His grip tightens, fingers sinking into your thighs hard enough to leave marks—because he wants to leave marks. His mouth pulls away from your clit just long enough to drag his tongue down, tracing the mess you’ve made along your inner thigh.

“So wet,” he mutters like he’s disgusted and addicted all at once. “Fucking dripping for me.”

He licks it up slow, tongue flat and wide, collecting every drop from your skin like none of it should go to waste. And when he gets to the spot right under your entrance, he pauses—just breathing there. Hot. Heavy. Watching another drip fall from you and hit his chest.

“Yes,” he growls, almost to himself. “Look at that. Can’t even hold it in, can you?” One hand drags your thigh further apart, spreading you open so he can see it all, tongue sliding back up—over your folds, up to your clit, slow and filthy.

You twitch in his grip, but there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere you’d rather be. Not when he’s tasting you like you’re his favorite addiction, not when his hands are holding you like he’ll never let you go.

He stays there—mouth pressed to your clit, tongue teasing soft, slow flicks just light enough to make you shake. Not enough to tip you over, but more than enough to make you ache.

And he feels it.

The way you throb against his tongue, how your body pulses and tightens like it’s trying to beg without words. His hands grip your thighs tighter, spreading them even more, and he groans low when another pulse hits his mouth.

“You’re close, huh?” he mutters, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot and sticky against you. “I can feel it. Your pussy’s throbbing all over my tongue—like you’re trying to cum without permission.”

He licks back up, slower this time, dragging it out—just the tip of his tongue circling your clit again, barely touching, cruel in how soft he makes it.

“You’re gonna wait,” he says, voice dark and steady, like a promise. “You’re gonna let me feel you build, baby. Let it get messy. Let it drip. But don’t you dare finish ‘til I say.”

And then his mouth is back on you—deep, wet pressure around your clit again, tongue pressing steady now, slow enough to make your thighs twitch but still not enough to let you fall.

He’s savoring your desperation. Every tremble. Every throb. Every helpless gasp.

His mouth clamps back onto your clit, no more teasing—just pure, relentless pressure. Tongue working you over, lips sealed tight like he needs to suck the orgasm out of you. And this time… he’s not holding back.

Your legs shake, hips stuttering forward as the tension finally coils too tight to hold. He feels it—every twitch, every helpless clench around nothing, and that’s when he lets it hit.

“Yeah… that’s it,” he growls against your pussy, voice wrecked, breath hot. “Such a good slut, letting me lick her dirty pussy ‘til she fucking snaps.”

You break for him—mind blank, body jerking in his grip as the orgasm rips through you, messy and soaked. He groans as you cum, not stopping, not even slowing, licking you through it like he’s starving for the taste of you falling apart.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, mouth wet with you, voice low and proud. “That’s what this pussy’s made for.”

And he doesn’t let go. Not yet.

He gives one last, slow suck on your clit—deep and lingering, like a parting claim—before pulling back with a quiet, satisfied hum. His mouth glistens with your mess, but he doesn’t seem to care. He leans in, places a soft kiss against your overstimulated center, then reaches down to pull your lace panties gently back into place, fingers brushing between your legs like he’s tucking away something precious.

He kisses your inner thigh—slow, reverent.

“Let’s shower,” he murmurs, lips against your skin. “Eat something. And maybe rent that new romcom we saw the other day.”

The shift is subtle but warm. Casual, familiar. Like none of what just happened has to be explained.

He stands, fingers brushing his keyboard as he clicks save on the report he was working on. Then he leans down, presses a soft kiss to your cheek—just a little longer than necessary—and meets your eyes with that lazy smile that only shows up after he’s had you completely.

“Come on, baby,” he says, voice low, affectionate. “I’ll wash your hair.”

You step into the bedroom first, feeling his eyes on you as you pull the skirt off, the cool air brushing over your bare skin. Your top follows, discarded carelessly as you stand there in just your lace panties. He watches, but there’s no rush in his gaze—just slow appreciation.

He follows behind you, his hand grazing your back as he undoes his shirt and pulls off his boxers. The clothes fall to the floor, forgotten for now as you both move toward the bathroom.

You grab two towels from the rack, the soft fabric warm in your hands as you head toward the bathroom. He follows, close enough that you feel the heat of him behind you, the subtle pressure of his presence always just there, like a quiet force that pulls at you.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, and you turn to face him, both of you standing there in the soft light of the bathroom. He steps closer, fingers lightly brushing your waist, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your body, but he doesn’t rush—he lets the quiet moment linger, taking his time with the tenderness that always follows after he’s taken what he wanted.

He reaches for the shower handle, turning it to the perfect temperature before his hands are back on you—soft but firm as he helps you step inside the warm stream of water.

You turn around under the spray, water cascading over your chest, down your stomach, between your thighs. His eyes drop. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

His hand comes down in a quick, wet smack against your ass—sharp, echoing just loud enough in the steamy silence. “Good,” he murmurs. “You listen fast.”

Then his hands are back on you—one at your waist, the other gliding up your stomach, slow and steady. His thumb brushes under the swell of your breast, eyes locked on the way water drips from your nipples, catching in slow trails down your skin.

He leans in close, lips near your ear, voice smooth like it’s just a passing thought.

“Your tits look great dripping like that,” he murmurs, fingers brushing across one nipple, letting the water bead there. “Might need to get them pierced soon. Would look good… wet and shiny.”

He squeezes gently, not rough but firm enough to feel it—like he’s testing the weight of the idea in his hands. His gaze lingers, unreadable, lips parted just slightly before he drags his thumb across your chest again and reaches for the soap.

“Turn around again. I’m not done.”

And with no more words, he starts to wash you—slow, deliberate strokes over your shoulders, your back, down to your legs. Never lingering longer than needed, but never rushed.

Not indulgent. Just careful. Like your body’s his responsibility—even when he’s teasing, even when he’s quiet, even when he pretends he doesn’t feel everything burning under the surface.

The water keeps pouring, soft and steady, but he doesn’t move until you do. When your hands finally reach for the soap and trail up his chest, he just watches you—still, unreadable, like he’s letting you earn this moment with how gentle you are.

His body towers over yours—thick, carved muscle under damp skin, tattoos inked deep and dark across his arms and chest. The water traces every curve of him. Your fingers drag lightly along his pecs, then across the subtle glint of his nipple piercings. He doesn’t flinch, but he does breathe in, just once, quiet and sharp like a reaction he doesn’t want to show.

You wash him the way he washed you—careful, slow, like your hands are learning every piece of him again.

When your fingers move lower, past his abs, down the soft V-cut of his hips, he glances down—eyes lidded, mouth barely parted. You pause at his cock, already half hard and heavy, curved just slightly with the weight of the metal barbell piercing near the tip.

You run a thumb over it—just one soft stroke—and that’s when he shifts.

His hand shoots out, bracing against the wall behind your head, close enough to cage you in without touching. His jaw flexes once, like he’s holding something back.

“You touch me like that,” he murmurs, voice low and gravel-warm, “and I’m gonna forget we were trying to clean off.”

The threat doesn’t sound angry. Just real. Just hungry.

But he doesn’t stop you.

You trace around the piercing again, slower this time. He lets you. His breath hitches. The muscle in his arm tenses beside your cheek. He’s trying to keep still, but his body betrays him in small ways—hips angling forward, cock twitching against your palm, heat building between the two of you like it’s always waiting.

His lip ring glints when he bites down on it.

“You don’t even know what that thing does to you yet,” he mutters, the barest smirk at the corner of his mouth. “But you will.”

Still, he doesn’t move to take control. Just stands there, letting your hands trail over his body, the water washing away any line between slow affection and slow burn.

And then—quietly, suddenly—he turns off the shower.

“Enough,” he says, voice firm but not cold. He grabs a towel, wraps one around you first, then one around his waist. “Come on.”

He steps out first, towel slung low on his hips, water still glistening off the edges of his tattoos. You follow, dripping, skin warm from the heat, and he doesn’t speak—just reaches for the other towel and wraps it around your shoulders like it’s routine. Like you’re routine.

The bedroom lights are low, soft yellow spilling across the sheets. You pad across the floor, wet footprints trailing behind. Jungkook watches them as he moves—always behind you, always just close enough to make you feel watched, known, kept.

He sits on the edge of the bed first, towel loose, hair dripping onto his shoulders. You catch sight of the gleam of his nipple piercings again, silver catching against skin. His gaze flicks to yours as you towel off, slow and obedient, and his voice comes quiet.

“Come here.”

You step between his knees, and he gently takes the towel from your hands, drying the backs of your thighs, up your spine, and down your arms. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t praise. But his hands are warm, firm, moving with practiced ease—like you’ve always been this soft for him.

When he’s done, he reaches for the comb on the nightstand. Runs it through your damp hair in slow, careful drags, working through the tangles without a single complaint. His fingers brush the back of your neck, your shoulders, grounding you with every stroke.

“You hungry?” he asks eventually, quiet, like the day never happened and nothing was ever wrong.

You nod. Small. Barely there.

He hums, then leans forward to press a kiss—dry and warm—on your upper back, just below your shoulder.

“I’ll order. You find the movie.”

Then he stands, like nothing happened. Like it’s normal for his cock to have been in your mouth or his fingers inside you just thirty minutes ago. Like this is just how he winds down—with you clean, quiet, soft next to him.

But the way he looks at you while he buttons his shorts?

That burn is still there. Always.

Jungkook leans against the wall by the window, phone in one hand, towel still draped low around his hips. His other hand scrolls through the menu, the glow from the screen lighting his face in soft blue. He’s quiet, focused, only pausing once to glance over his shoulder.

“You want kalguksu or sundubu?” he asks.

You blink at him from where you’ve curled up on the couch, fresh panties on, one of his oversized shirts swallowing your body.

“Both?”

He doesn’t comment. Just presses a few more things on the screen. Bulgogi. Two noodle dishes. Sides—kimchi, pickled radish, tteokbokki. Drinks. He taps fast, familiar. No fanfare.

“You’re eating all of it,” he mutters, thumbing in the address. “Don’t go dumb on me after two bites.”

Then he tosses the phone on the coffee table and walks over. No words. Just slides onto the couch beside you and pulls your body into his without even asking.

His arm hooks around your waist. His hand rests low on your thigh. He smells like soap and steam, his skin warm against your back, and when you settle into his chest, he makes a small sound—barely there. Like something inside him unclenched.

“You find the movie?” he murmurs against your hair, lips brushing the crown of your head.

You nod and grab the remote. He doesn’t check what it is—just tucks you closer, drapes a blanket over both your legs, and lets his hand settle under your shirt, warm palm against your stomach. He rubs slow circles there. Absentminded. Almost distracted.

But he’s not.

He always touches like he knows what you are to him—even if he never says it out loud.

“You’re always softer after I fuck you stupid,” he mutters, low and almost to himself, lips brushing your temple. “Quiet like this. Calm.”

A beat of silence.

“I like it.”

“Love it actually “

And just like that, the movie starts playing, food on its way, his hand resting under your shirt like he owns that space now.

And maybe he does.

The movie plays. You forget half of it.

Not because it’s boring—some low-stakes romcom with pretty lighting and overacted drama—but because Jungkook never stops touching you.

His hand stays under your shirt the whole time. Not groping. Not pushing. Just resting, warm and steady, right beneath your navel. Every few minutes, he drags his thumb in slow, slow circles over your skin. Sometimes he lets it drift a little lower, barely grazing the hem of your panties, just enough to make you inhale quietly.

He doesn’t tease more than that. Doesn’t say a word about it. But he knows. You can feel it in the way he shifts behind you slightly every time you twitch, every time your thighs press closer together like your body’s asking for more without permission.

His breathing is calm. Deep. Like this is his favorite way to wind down.

Eventually, his free hand reaches for the blanket and pulls it higher around you both. He sinks a little deeper into the cushions and rests his chin lightly on your shoulder. His lip ring brushes your skin—cool, then warm—before he tilts his head to whisper.

“You’re quiet.”

You nod. You don’t trust your voice.

He hums, just once. Not annoyed. Not even asking for more.

Just observing you.

You feel the faintest pressure against your lower back. His cock, still under the towel, starting to stiffen again against you. But he doesn’t act on it. Doesn’t move his hand. Just holds you there, the same way he held you under the shower, the same way he looked at you when you touched him earlier.

Like this is enough. Like you are enough—soft, quiet, warm in his lap.

After a long pause, he murmurs, “You don’t even know how you get under me.”

It’s not a compliment. It’s not sweet.

But it lands heavy anyway—honest, raw, something he doesn’t say often. You shift a little closer, curl into his chest, and his grip tightens slightly around your stomach in response. Protective. Firm. His.

The room smells like clean laundry, the scent of his soap still lingering on your skin. The sound of the movie plays on in the background—forgotten, unimportant.

You’re still there, in his arms, tucked against muscle and ink and barely hidden restraint.

And you could stay like this for hours.

The blanket shifts as Jungkook shifts, one knee pulling up onto the couch, boxing you in a little tighter. You move with him, instinctively, your back still to his chest, thighs tucked over his. The hand under your shirt settles lower again. Not pushing—just reminding. He’s always there.

You hear the faint click of his jaw as he chews the inside of his cheek. He does that when he’s thinking. Quiet. Still. His fingers twitch once against your stomach.

Then silence again.

Outside, it’s starting to get darker. The apartment softens into shadows, city lights casting a faint glow through the blinds. The TV flickers, reflecting on his silver rings and the edges of his lip piercing. You catch the movement in the window reflection.

He’s not really watching the movie.

He’s watching you.

You feel his thumb slip a little lower. It rests just over the band of your panties now, dipping slightly with each breath you take. His fingers graze the softest part of your lower stomach, barely touching, but it grounds you—reminds you that you’re here. That he’s got you.

“Stop fidgeting,” he mutters low. Knowing what It means.

You hadn’t even noticed you were. Your thighs shift again, just barely, and he gently presses down with his hand—not hard, not rough, just enough to say stay still.

And you do.

You feel him breathe in through his nose behind you, long and slow. Like he’s savoring it. The stillness. The weight of you curled against him. The way your body answers to him without needing to be told.

Another beat passes.

“I like when you’re like this,” he says, almost a whisper. “All soft. Quiet. Just… letting me hold you.”

The words sit heavy between your ribs.

You want to turn and look at him, maybe say something, maybe not. But before you move, his hand slides just a bit higher again, resting flat across your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. Not squeezing. Not sexual.

Just claiming, in the most unspoken way.

Another minute passes like that. Two. Maybe more. You lose track.

And then—

A soft buzz breaks the silence.

He pulls his phone from the table, glances at it once. “Food’s downstairs.”

You nod. Start to move.

But he stops you with a quick tap to your thigh. “Wait here.”

You freeze. Watch him stand, towel still low, his back broad and still damp from the shower, tattoo sleeve glinting in the light. He pulls on a pair of joggers, grabs the keycard, and disappears toward the door without looking back.

You’re left alone, warm, legs curled under the blanket where he left you, body still humming from nothing but his hands and silence.

Still his.

Even when he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the silence that follows is thick.

You stay where he told you to—knees tucked in, blanket pooled around your hips, body still humming faintly like he never left. His scent is on the throw pillow behind you, warm and woodsy, laced with the faint sharpness of soap and skin.

You let your fingers trail under your shirt where his hand had been, ghosting over the skin like you’re trying to remember the exact weight, the exact shape. It doesn’t feel the same without him. It never does.

Your thighs squeeze together without meaning to. Still wet. Still pulsing.

Not from anything dramatic. Just… from him. From the way he held you like you were precious and breakable and his, without saying a word of it. From the way he touched you like you were meant to be used for comfort, for tension, for the kind of stress relief only he gets to define.

You shift, trying to ease it, but it makes it worse—makes you ache a little more.

You imagine his hand still there, broad and rough and possessive in that casual way of his. His voice still echoing soft and lazy in your head.

I like when you’re like this.

You bite your lip. Whimper once, breath catching. You feel ridiculous for it—needy over nothing. But you can’t help it. That’s what he does. He winds you up slow. Gentle. With nothing but a glance and a palm on your stomach.

The apartment is dim now. The credits of the movie roll. Your skin is still hot. Your brain still soft. And you wait.

Right where he left you.

Like a good girl.

The door clicks again. You don’t move.

You hear the soft shuffle of the bags first, then his keys dropping into the bowl by the entrance. The lock turns behind him. Secured. Closed in.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just walks toward the kitchen, the low rustle of plastic and cardboard echoing against the countertops. You hear the fridge open, then the faint fizz of drinks being set out. Ice cubes clink into glasses. The scent of food drifts in—spiced bulgogi, fried garlic, kimchi, noodles, heat.

Still, you stay where he told you to.

Then finally—his voice, even and low, “Come eat.”

But not sharp. Not rushed.

It’s the same tone he used earlier, when he touched your stomach like a promise. The same calm control wrapped in warmth.

You unwrap the blanket slowly and pad toward him, still a little floaty. Still feeling the phantom trace of his fingers under your shirt. He glances up when you enter the kitchen—his eyes flicking down to your legs, your shirt clinging to the outline of your body. No bra. No panties. Just his.

He hums like he approves, then sets down a small bowl. “Come Sit .”

You do.

He passes you chopsticks without comment and starts unpacking the rest, sleeves pushed up over his forearms, tattoos peeking out beneath the hem. His lip piercing catches the light as he chews on the inside of his cheek again, focused, efficient. You watch the muscles in his back shift under his shirt as he leans forward, adjusting dishes so they’re easy for you to reach.

You pick at the noodles quietly. He watches. Watches like he owns the right to.

“Eat more,” he says, nodding at the bulgogi. “You barely touched your lunch today.”

You pout, just a little. “Didn’t feel hungry.”

His gaze narrows for a second.

Then he leans down, close, low. His hand touches your thigh under the table, just enough to ground you. “You’re always hungry when I feed you right?.”

It’s not about the food. You know that. He knows that. But you take a bite, anyway. And he sits next to you, finally. Not touching. But close enough to feel the heat of his thigh next to yours. Quiet again.

It’s domestic.

It’s dangerous.

And you wouldn’t move for anything.

You chew slower this time, lips parted, too aware of the way he watches. Every time your tongue slips out to catch a drop of sauce, his gaze flicks there. Then back to his own bowl.

Silent.

But not indifferent.

He picks up a slice of grilled beef, leans over just enough to hold it up between the chopsticks. “Open.”

You blink at him.

He raises a brow, cocking his head like he’s indulging you, not the other way around. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You part your lips, obedient. His fingers hold the meat still as you take it, warm and sweet and smoky. He watches the way your lips close around it, how your mouth moves when you chew.

“Good girl,” he mutters low, almost to himself, before taking a sip of his drink.

Your thighs press together. You’re not sure why that two-word praise does what it does. But you squirm slightly in your seat and feel the smallest smile tug at his mouth when he notices.

“I should feed you more often,” he says offhandedly, scooping more rice into your bowl. “I like it when your mouth is full.”

Your face heats up.

He chuckles—just a little. And fuck, it’s rare. That sound. Deep and amused, with the faintest edge of something dangerous under it. He doesn’t do that often. Doesn’t tease like that unless he’s already thinking about what he’ll do after.

You shift in your seat again, thighs brushing his under the table this time.

He doesn’t move away. If anything, his foot slides forward, anchoring between your ankles like a silent reminder. Stay. Be still. Be soft.

“You wore the skirt on purpose, didn’t you?” he says casually, sipping again. “Tight enough to ride up when you sit. Just short enough to keep me looking.”

You press your lips together, heartbeat skipping.

He leans closer, voice lower. “You like it when I look?”

You nod. Small. Shy.

He hums again, pleased. His knuckles brush your thigh—casual but intentional—and you suck in a tiny breath.

He doesn’t follow it up.

Just goes back to eating.

Like he didn’t just turn you into a flushed, pulsing mess over takeout and lazy touches under the table.

Like teasing you is the point.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Blue Velvet

A/N: A continuation to Satin Pillows to Cry On. Tell me, who are you rooting for? are either of these yans worth reader's time? Based on Bobby Vinton's 'Blue Velvet'.

Synopsis: Waiting miserably on your anniversary, you find a familiar face in the most unlikely of places, a man who seems to be hiding something unpleasant.

CW: Yandere behaviors, deception, breaking and entering

A date night can’t really be considered a ‘date’ if only one person shows up. What’s more, a date in an unfamiliar place, with staff who barely spoke a word of English that only your husband could decipher in his years of linguistic studies, was not welcoming. You did everything he asked, adorning the pretty dewdrop jewels he deftly laid in your hands on the beach that morning, a gentle order for you to wear them that night in honor of your two-month anniversary. 

Despite their shining luminescence capturing the eyes of patrons and wait staff alike, you sat alone. Your husband is nowhere to be found. 

It was embarrassing to fling your head around every few seconds, wondering if the heavy thumps of fine leather shoes against the smoothened floor was he. It never was. 

Instead of what you prayed to find, you encountered the gaze of a face you knew all too well. One that lingered as you had said final goodbyes, that had once kissed your name softly to your jaw, that ended screaming it in rage.

“You…” You couldn’t finish, seeing him in the fine, ironed white button up, a waiter’s vest of black complimenting his newly sunkissed skin. It seemed his time working on the island had gotten to him. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” He grinned, a little too excited to see you from how painfully you recall your last interaction. Your breaking of his heart, which now seemed to be a faint memory from the way he nonchalantly strode over.

Picking up your hand, his gaze avoided the large diamond on your finger to lay a gentle, but firm, kiss to your knuckles. The manager of the establishment had done the same when you first arrived, all modest and humble. Just as it had done then, your ex-boyfriend’s kiss left you taken aback.

“So you’re officially one of the married’s now, huh?” His gentle, breezy american accent almost made you feel safe in the room of strangers. 

“Uh...I guess you could say that; But you-- what are you doing here?” 

Your ex looked around, almost clueless. 

“Working.” 

“No, I-- you know what I mean, what are you doing HERE, on a random tiny island of all places? Did you… know I was going to be here?”

A part of you tightens up, his funny look not doing much to ease your tension.. He was never one to let things go easily; would he really… go this far?

“I wish I was out here just to see you, would’ve been a hell lot more fun. But no, I came for a change of scenery.” He looked around the rainforest-themed restaurant with odd, fresh wonder. “I sold our old apartment, got a dog, and moved here. I might not know a lick of what they’re saying, but it’s… different. It’s helped me.”

The sting of his words almost flies by you, but they cut deeper the longer his nostalgic gaze lingers. It’s helped him escape from you, from what you did. 

“That’s really great.” You give him your best smile, ignoring how he still held your hand and kneeled next to your table. “You deserve good things.”

At that, he couldn’t help but give you a real smile; good things he did deserve, and in due time he would have them sitting in the palm of his hand. 

“So what’re you doing out here all alone? Where’s mister moneybags?” He moves to sit where your husband should be, stealing a piece of bread from the table basket that tasted more like bitter peppercorns.

“He’s just finishing up some work. Said he’ll be here any minute, which is great because I’m starving.” 

Your smile twitches a little, the back of your mind wondering if those words are unknowingly true, if he’ll see you with another man; or worse, he’ll leave you here for the rest of the night. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s left you all alone like this.” 

Your ex boyfriend takes a sip from the undrunken glass of water across from you in his hand, his knuckles wrapped in flesh-colored gauze.

“It’s that easy to tell, huh.” The sting of shame pulses behind your eyelids. “How embarrassing, and you of all people-- to see me like this.” You bite your lip to stop a cracked sob from escaping. “Do you feel satisfied? You should, you deserve it. After.. Everything.”

“Satisfied?” He scoffed. “I’ll be satisfied when you aren’t miserable-- I don’t get any satisfaction from your suffering.” 

Okay, maybe he did a little bit. But only because he got to be the one to comfort you, to see the way your so-called ‘husband’ put you on the backburner, again.

The candlelight hued small tears tugging at the corners of your eyes, no longer a painful urge to hold them back as they rested there, waiting to fall. Through the blur, you could see a small handkerchief tucked away in your ex-boyfriend’s shirt pocket. A soft, gentle blue, unoffending with the semi-formality of his clothes, almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for your keen eye. 

“Where’d you get that?” Moving, you pluck it from his coat pocket, the small square wrinkled between your heavy fingers. “This is--”

“Hey!” He shouted, almost accusatory as it was snatched back. He grabbed it before you could find the initials you searched for.

The moment it was back in his hand, his agitated frown shifted back to a more nervous smile. “When’d you learn to take things that didn’t belong to you? The wealth get to your head?” 

He scoffed playfully, shoving the handkerchief into his back pocket. 

“No I-- it’s just that he, has one just like that.” Everytime you mentioned your husband, it felt like you were stabbing the man in front of you all over again. 

Another suited businessman walked past the hosts stand, catching your attention until-- no, he was far too aged to be your husband. 

“Yeah well, the manager gives em out to all the waiters to wear. It’s a high-end place, you know.”

His fingers twitched with each statement that tried to sound casual, only to come out closer to a squeaky fib with the intonation of his voice. 

Nevermind the similarity to your husband’s handkerchief, your ex’s behavior was erratic; suspicious in the way he looked at every other server who walked past him, almost hiding himself against the table with one arm propped up. 

“Speaking of which… What's your boss's  name again? He told me when I walked in, but I forgot.” You pull at the bread on your plate a bit with a fork, looking at it unassumingly.

Your ex-boyfriend went quiet, suddenly just as interested in the door as you were. 

His eyes were rigid, swallowing as he seemed caught between something. Perhaps your hunch was towards the right direction. 

“Better yet, what’s this restaurant's name? I’m sure you know, right?” You looked up at him, a part of you hoping maybe you were wrong; but your intuition knew best.

 You should have known it was all a hoax, it was too convenient. While dating, he admitted to having stalked your social media and workplace for weeks before asking you out; It sounded cute when he first told you-- a man lovesick and desperate for your attention. Now, you looked back on it with apprehension. What’s to say he’s still not over you? 

The thought wasn’t pure vanity in yourself; he had a history, one you were well aware of. 

“What’re you trying to say?” His wrapped hand gripped at the tablecloth, squinting at you with a matched suspicion. “You think I’m lying?” 

Your eyes flashed down to his grip, a spot of red clinging between his knuckles and down the bandage. Before you could ask what had happened, for him to try and cover it up with a “kitchen accident”, the familiar sharp steps of your husband came to a halt. 

Your ex was in the process of standing up, looking instantaneously as you did to the imposing figure beside him. 

“Excuse me. I think that’s my seat.” Your husband interrupted, fixing one of his suit’s cuffs; he dressed on brand for the restaurant--formal and clean-cut--- but even you could tell he had just gotten back from his office, having no time to change. 

“Yeah. Was just leaving.” Your ex murmurs, hesitantly pulling away from you. He keeps his head low, watching you with a piercing gaze of furious anguish.

Your husband finds ease in sliding to his chair, looking slightly out of sorts as the tired circles under his eyes seem to have increased since you last saw him. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” He searches for your hand eagerly to pull it towards him; he was warm, invitingly so. “My darling.”

He smiles, and a part of it is genuine-- but a corner of his lips pulls tight. 

“Have you been crying?” He asks, almost attempting to bring his thumb to your eyelashes. 

“Oh, no,” You wipe them before he can reach, careful not to smudge or pull anything out of place. “It’s the candles, burns my eyes a little bit.”

You’re not very convincing, but thankfully he doesn’t press for answers despite the skeptical look on his face. Quickly, he became preoccupied with settling himself in and soaking in your glow. 

“I really am just… I’m so sorry I left you here waiting. First it was drunken clients, and then the villa being broken into, and--” 

“Wait, go back, what?” 

He squeezes your hand harder, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as the tell-tale sign of an oncoming headache grows. 

“I got a call about a half hour ago about someone shattering the sliding glass door in our bedroom; left a mess everywhere. Things were thrown all around the house but apparently very little was stolen. They hadn’t even bothered to touch the closet safe.”

Your husband could very clearly see the bewildered look of fear pulling you apart in threads, your jaw dropped as you imagined the scene in your head. 

“But, please let’s not think about that right now. Security is taking care of it as we speak, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Someone managed to break in, and you’re telling me there’s nothing to worry about?” 

Despite the harshness of your words, your tone is despondent. This was the last thing you needed, especially on a trip that was supposed to be some sort of a vacation.

 Your husband sighed. He pulled your fingers to his lips, kissing them as he closed his eyes. There was always something trying to pull you apart from him. 

His silence was telling; he knows. And yet, he says little to fix it, merely trying to soothe himself with the warmth of your palm and the softness of your skin. 

Even with your server coming out with the first course of your dinner, breaking the solemn conversation, you barely looked at your food. Your eyes kept drawing back to your husband’s empty coat pocket, free from the blue velvet handkerchief he was supposed to wear tonight. 

[louisupdates]

faithinourlouis LIVE IN THE MOMENT, THE ALBUM CONCEPT!

I’ve been teasing this for a few days now, but I finally started working on my own LT3 concept. It’s all based on Louis saying his next album will be "sunny with a sprinkle of chaos" and that stuck with me. I started by imagining the cover and back cover, and from there, I just couldn’t stop.

The title Live in the Moment felt like a natural step after his previous work. It even matched one of his old bios, so it kind of felt like a sign and I went with it. For LT2, Louis made it pretty obvious the title would be Faith in the Future, but this time he hasn’t given us much to go on, so I had to get creative. I wanted something that didn’t feel cliché or overused like "369" or things like that.

And before anyone asks, yes, I made up the release date and the entire setlist. Nothing here is real, just me having fun with the concept!

I imagined this album as something more personal in terms of visuals. Since we all love those random photo dumps Louis sometimes posts on Instagram, I thought it’d be a cool idea to design the booklets as his personal gallery. Maybe even with some little doodles from him here and there.

Not gonna lie, I’m really proud of how this turned out. I tried to make it feel like something Louis and his team would actually release, even down to the kind of videos they use to present the different formats. Hope you guys like it as much as I loved putting it all together 🫶

A creatively imagined Louis album concept by a fan, faithinourlouis!

[ms-sasa]

Random HC for domestic 141 x reader

Reader got that random high motivation for deep cleaning the house when they come home.

No its not proof read, ne English is not my first language, yes it was a spontaneous idea

Yes i have to deep clean the house because we are getting guests....

Price

-would come home expecting his partner to run to the door greeting him but nooo not today...

Today the reader got really pissed off by a coworker/friend/stranger and had to get that angry energy out off their system.

So what would be better than going for an angry cleaning free...

Reader would curse and throw around the laundry while sorting it in the right baskets, slamming the door of the washing machine shut and pressing the few dress shirts he had like they are burning their enemies with the hot iron.

Price decided that it would be the best to retreat to his office and wait for the storm to pass by...

Later that evening he heard a soft knock on his door and a calm and tired reader entered.

"better luv..?'

"hmhm..." They walked over to him hugging him

"welcome home..."

"thanks... Do you want takeout and tell me what happened?"

"yea... And cuddles"

Simon

Simon would come home to open his flats door just to be blocked halfway through. Some furniture was standing in front of the door

Reader had noticed the sand in the hallway when they walked around barefoot. And boy no way that was acceptable... How often did they tell simon to put his damn boots off at the door.

So what started as a quick vacuum of the hallway ended in lifting the shoe rag , rolling up the carpets and dusting off the Skirting boards.

Hence why Simon was now blinking confused why the fucking dresser was standing in the hallway.. in front of the entrance.

"luv'...?"

"si! Good you are home!! I need your help.."

The dresser is moved and he was pulled inside. After a quick kiss on the lips and a warning to take his fucking boots off at the door he was ordered to move the couch....

That's how he ended up seated on the disassembled couch waiting for his love to finish with the living room, ranting about the sand that was just EVERYWHERE. Simon made a mental note to make sure to take off his boots at the front door from now on....

Johnny

Johnny was glad to be home again. The mission was okay and he even got to shower at base before coming home but still...

It was good that he showed at base because when he unlocked the door he was greeted by the smell of cleaning supplies and something that looked like his bathroom had thrown up all the little pots and bottles into the hallway.

"lass... What...?" He walked into the flat peeking into the bathroom and grined.

Reader was wearing shorts, a tank top and cleaning gloves. Added to that was a pair of Bluetooth headphones and they were dancing around and singing (badly) to some 90's pop song.

So it was obvious what he was gonna do next .. right strip down to his boxers, connecting the phone to the home speaker blasting the pop songs on them and joining the cleaning party.

"johnny!!! What are you doing??"

"helping yer lass now move over and give me that sponge"

They ended up with a beautiful clean bathroom, a good hot shower together and a noise complaint from the neighbors.

Kyle

Kyle was hungry when he came back from work this time. Hungry and tired but when he enters the flat and hears the clutter of pans and pots on the floor he knows dinner had to wait.

"babe?" He rounded the corner and almost tripped over a stack of plates "what in the..."

"oh hey love.. uhm we are gonna need to order food..."

Kyle looked around at the completely empty kitchen. Every pot, glass, plate or knife they owned was spread somewhere in the living room. The cabinets empty and even the pantry was bare of everything that wasn't canned or otherwise securely closed.

"babe.. why??" Then something flew past him and he noticed it in an instant groaning. food moths...

"yea... Sorry love." The reader got up and got over to him kissing him hello "how about you go and get some new essentials and some takeaway for dinner? I'll finish here"

Kyle sighed and nodded... No home cooked goods for him tonight

[kaynanyn]

Was watching some Tik Toks to kill time and I stumbled across that one dad that runs around the house and just scares his kids daily. And I fucking loved it. I imagine Bruce doing it to young Dick and Jason. But not like, EVERY day, neither monthly, just, random days of the year, because he felt like it. And he LOVES to see his kids.. Being kids, being humans. Even if it means Bruce will pretend for the rest of their lifes that he doesn't run around the house or hides in random places to spook them.

After Jason's death, Bruce stoped doing it, Dick is not around anymore that much, there's no reason for him to do it. But now the family is back together. He'll have the house full for at least the whole week plus one weekend, he got time. Barbara, Cass, Steph and Duke are also there. So he finds its the perfect time for him to do it again. He hides in the kitchen's cabinet [somehow. He's Batman.] and waits for his first victim.

————————

Tim walks in the kitchen to get a snack while waiting for his turn in the videogame, when suddenly, he hears small knocks in the cabinets direction and he just, stops working. He glances at it unsure if he's heard it wrong, he might have, there's no way someone or something snuck in the Manor with, he recounts in his head, nine vigilantes. Not counting the Manor's insane safety system. Sure, they can just be hanging out and relaxed, but they're not careless. The cabinet is quiet, he decides to ignore it, which can be a dumb decision, but no way someone actually snuck in. He goes back to picking up snacks when he hears it again, small knocks in the cabinets direction. Now he's sure he isn't going crazy. He puts the snacks down and goes quietly as possible in its direction to see who or what the fuck is there, come face him, coward. He's not scared, but when Bruce opens the door abruptly [After making sure Tim is still far away enough so the door doesn't hit him] and gets out of it as if nothing happened, the high pitched sound that comes out from his mouth is almost inhuman.

————————

Bruce's next victim isn't that much longer after Tim, he was planing to spook one at a time for the whole week, but Duke is right there. Okay, he knows he's not able to scare or surprise Duke like he did with Tim but for sure he can confuse him.

Duke got upstairs to take a bath and change his clothes into more comfortable and clean ones after him and Jason got into a playfull sparring in the middle of the living room because he and Steph bet that he could use Jason's own fighting style against him and last at least 10 minutes, which ended up with him getting thrown in the table of drinks, but it was worth it. He's currently leaning close to his rooms door [He has a room, okay?] on his phone waiting for everyone to clean the mess that was made, he's not going to help clean it because hey, he had nothing to do with it, he was the victim. He's starting to get kinda bored when suddenly he sees it. Bruce running as fast as possible, three times down the hall and whispering "Merry Christmas" over and over. It's June. He starts to think that his powers are tricking him or somehow they're breaking but... No. His powers are working just fine. Bruce comes down whispering "Merry Christmas" over and over. In June.

Duke:

Bruce: Running and whispering Merry Christmas

Duke: Bruce what the fuck

Bruce: Still running and whispering Merry Christmas

Duke: Bruce.

Bruce: Merry Christm-

————————

The next day he decides he'll try Steph. She goes for the fight in fight or flight so he knows to not let her get too close to the China Cabinet he managed to remove the shelves so he could fit in it the night prior. No one barely glances at it when walking by, he could use it more than once but he knows she'll tell the others about it. He's gonna have to be quick in placing the shelves back.

Steph is walking across the hall and Bruce waits for her to be close enough to get startled but not too much to be able to hit, and opens the door softly, which okay, a door opening quietly usually wouldn't scare anyone but its a China Cabinet, and no one is in front of it.

She lets out a short scream and some steps back before realising that its just Bruce.

Steph: Oh my god THIS is what Tim was talking about.

Bruce: *Casually closes the China Cabinet door and starts walking away from it*

———————

Cass was his fourth victim. He made sure to not spook her that much like the others, she could be... quite scary. He was just going to surprise her. He was hiding in one of the shadow corners and waited at least 2 minutes before saying something to her. Her wide eyes and a paralyzed form could not be much for others, but for Bruce, it was everything. This would be the most he'd get to surprise her before her instincts made her ready to fight, and it was worth it. Seeing her just be. Not a trained to the bones fighter.

————————

Damian's turn came the next day. Right after breakfast, Bruce rushed off the table, with just the exact amount of time before someone got suspicious, and pratically ran to Damian's room, which he knew his son would get back to it, since he was obviously sleepy from not getting any sleep after another game night with his siblings. And hid under his bed waiting for his youngest son.

The moment Damian stepped in front of the bed to lay down and sleep, Bruce touched one of his ankles, making him scream and jump in the bed before getting something to fight. Worth it.

————————

He tried Barbara next, but she somehow always knew what he was going to do before he even tried to do it.

She was around the time Bruce did it for the first times, and honestly? She's enjoying it, Steph came after her to see the footage of the hallway the day it happened. Barbara had deleted it the moment she heard her scream. Same with Tim and Duke. Cass wasnt something unbelievable, so she found no use of deleting it. She made sure Dick knew nothing about it. After all, he was the first kid, he knows very well about Bruce's game and wouldn't get startled at all. She wants to see the nostalgia hit him.

————————

Dick was next. He's sitting in the end of his bed with Damian, who was claiming that something was under his bed yesterday and he refuses to go there, sure that someone hid a trap there because as soon as he was going to fight it, it vanished. Dick finds it amusing that Damian is being a kid, in his own way, so he goes with it, cradling [Against his will, but he doesnt try to fight at all] him and telling him that it must have been the bed sheets or something like that, but never saying that it didnt happen, of course, always validating him. He's almost convincing Damian that it's okay and saying that he's going with him to his room to prove him its safe, but then a heavy unexpected banging in his door startles him so much he falls of the bed with Damian, which immediately runs to the door to fight, because, who in their right minds would bang that loud on a door? But Dick.. Dick starts laughing so hard after a few seconds that tears come down his face and his stomach starts to hurt from laughing so hard. Now it all made sense, but he cant explain to Damian what happened without starting another laughing fit.

————————

Jason was the last one, Bruce had waited for the right moment to do it, because he still had some hope that Jason would remember it from before the explosion. He wanted to enjoy the week with his kids before seeing more of the crushing truth that happened with his Baby Boy.

He waited for Jason to sit in the armchair of the living room alone before throwing slightly a tenis ball from one of the doors behind him, and ran across the Manor making no noises to get to another room which had a door facing the front of the armchair.

Jason saw the tenis ball rolling and immediately turned his head behind him to see who was there. Once he saw nothing he got up grumbling about something and started walking to the door that the tenis ball came from, but not eve two steps in, Bruce opens the door abruptly that was now behind Jason and runs towards the door Jason was getting to, while asking something that made zero sense. Jason, of course, had almost fallen because of the mattress that was acroos the living room [Siblings nights, no one slept in the room]

Jason: BRUCE WHAT THE FUCK.

[timeslipcamp]

thoughts on episode 16

vibrating in my seat over a new sinostra chapter I CANT WAIT

typing this as i read it so let's go live reaction!!!

spoilers for episode 16

first of all taiga in a crop top is something i didn't know i needed but now it's all i'm gonna be thinking about forever thanks

SHO BRINGING US LUNCH right off the bat we are truly blessed to see him right away. where's that bingo sheet someone made cross off vagastrom cameo. sho is such a sweetheart ugh. interesting that he encourages us not to talk too much in front of the teachers.

hodge and podge have animations now!! good for them!! however that was completely overshadowed by this lil tidbit

only three months??? thats WAY less time than i thought we had. is the game moving in real time then? or are we going to get back to the loop that much sooner? also i love that the dialogue mentions different things and events that happen off screen. maybe we'll see them in the time loop. shoutout for the warding card though love that

how DID they see us alone in the infirmary? 👀 perhaps a clue as to why hyde's eyes are covered, he can see everything?

also quick shout out to my favorite thing romeo's ever said

lawyers or the yakuza aka ritsu or taiga

WAIT WE'RE GOING TO DIONYSIA????? oh i'm screaming actually i can't be doing this at work

a burglary? the same person who broke into jabberwock maybe?

ITS A FUCKING FREAKY CARNIVAL????

okay this place sucks but i'm kicking my feet and blushing at walking around with the janitor. i don't trust him AT ALL but he's hot idc

interesting that it's only been abandoned for six months, but we've been on campus for nine, and the clash was presumably just a few months before that. also double confirmation that the janitor is elias HELL YEAH. but wtf haru

DIONYSIA HARU holy shit not what i expected. he would be a little circus freak wouldn't he? ngl when they brought up romeo's family i was like "if they mention a sister istg..." but do you think taiga actually hasn't returned haru's calls? or was this him playing up the act again?

dude wait wtf is the winchester mansion doing here hahaha this is so funny. actually no the US branch being incompetent is funny too i like this.

history moment - for those who don't know, the winchester mansion is a real place in california. this mansion was built by sarah winchester and construction continued on the house all the way up until she died. popular myth says she was compelled by spirits to continue working on the house forever. she was plagued with crazy bad luck (family members dying, random tragedies) and another popular myth states that she was cursed because her family created the winchester rifle, and her bad karma was to repay for all the deaths the rifles caused. if you're in cali, highly recommend a visit, this place is huge and SO insane, there's hundreds of rooms. love what they did with this location in the story. might do a whole post on this mansion here later.

anyways

MC responding on reflex to kitten GIRL GET YOURSELF TOGETHER me too though me too...

ritsu is so fucking funny i love this nerd. i missed sinostra man. i do enjoy the brief cameos of other students though. lyca saying "ok bye" was so funny i love that guy

the sinostra turf war was killing me. living in this house would be so exhausting. at least ritsu has the hague convention agreements memorized too 😭

genuinely having the hardest time focusing on the story when this is on screen. wait hold on does taiga have a fake ponytail on lmao. HARD CUT AFTER YOU CHOOSE WHO YOURE ROOMING WITH????

i actually just went back and did that chapter three times so see all the options and they are exactly what you would expect. taigas gonna kill me. ugh

lyca calls him harurin because of rui 😭😭 bro ill cry STOP lyca youre so good bb

taiga im gonna strangle you--are you feeding into my time loop theory or are you just so apathetic that it bleeds into everything???? i doubt that, especially considering evetything this episode points to him knowing more than he's letting on, but he really has been apathetic about everything. ugh

also romeo being pegged as the villain by the hundun....... 👀 inchresting

nvm we literally almost got set on fire

i bet it's after taiga but because of his weird lucky precog thing it keepa avoiding him. god i need to know what his stigma is so bad. "it changed again" he and i are gonna fight istg

hot ritsu moment congrats ritsu stans

hey hold on

this sounds a lot like. the faculty....

the campus was almost destroyed by the ghouls and now theyre being super strict and using severe discipline to keep them in line...

that might be a reach but that felt poignant. hm

also idk if this is important to note or not but ritsu basically has the opposite stigma as haru. makes him harder/heavier while harus makes him faster/lighter/more fragile

anyways the END OF THE EPISODE UGGHHH

literally five hundred thousand thoughts running through my head at the end of that. elias definitely heard and he's about to go tell someone. LOVE sinostra those some ride or dies (heavy emphasis on the die). fuck you hyde i wanna know what you're planning. UGH such a good episode i wish it was 900 hours longer

gonna take an hour to collect my thoughts and then i'll be back with more. love you taiga fuck u

asks and dms always open!!

[itsnesss]

𝐈𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | ollie bearman

bf!ollie who holds your hand while walking through the rainy streets of London, always pulling you close when a car splashes by just to keep you dry — “You know I’d rather get soaked than you.”

bf!ollie who memorizes your coffee order down to the tiniest detail and surprises you with it on random afternoons just to see you smile — “Oat milk and two pumps of vanilla, right? Don’t say I never listen.”

bf!ollie who wraps you in his hoodie or coat the second he feels a breeze, even if he ends up freezing — and acts all dramatic about it: “If I get sick, it’s on you… but totally worth it.”

bf!ollie who spends lazy Sundays with you cooking pancakes, getting flour on his nose, then kissing it onto yours — laughing like a little kid every time.

bf!ollie who leaves little notes in your bag or pocket before you leave for the day: “Don’t forget you’re amazing. Also, eat something, love you.”

bf!ollie who hugs you from behind when you’re brushing your teeth, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying slightly like you’re slow dancing in the bathroom.

bf!ollie who cheers for you like you just won a Grand Prix even if you just nailed a work presentation or finished a stressful day — “THAT’S MY GIRL!” (yes, he’ll yell it).

bf!ollie who plans cozy dates like picnics in Hyde Park, sharing warm pastries and lying on the blanket pointing out cloud shapes like kids.

bf!ollie who texts you “did you eat?” and “I miss you” every time he’s away, even if he just saw you a few hours ago — he’s clingy, but like, the softest kind.

bf!ollie who has a whole playlist called “her smile” that he listens to while traveling — he won’t admit it unless you catch him and he turns bright red.

bf!ollie who gives you forehead kisses like it’s second nature — in the morning, in public, at the track, mid-convo — he just needs that soft little moment with you.

bf!ollie who loves when you wear his hoodie with nothing else underneath and pretends to act annoyed — “Babe, I was looking for that… actually, nevermind. Keep it.”

bf!ollie who insists on doing your skincare routine with you even if he doesn’t know what half the products do — he just wants to be beside you at the sink, giggling with a face mask on.

bf!ollie who sneakily steals Polaroids of you when you’re not looking and keeps them in his passport case, because you’re his home no matter where he goes.

bf!ollie who brings you flowers on random Tuesdays, just because.

“They made me think of you. Soft, pretty… and way too good for me.”

He tucks a note in the bouquet that simply says, “You’re my favorite.”

bf!ollie who gets jealous in the quietest, sweetest way — he won’t say much, but suddenly his arm’s around your waist and he’s kissing your temple every five minutes like: “Just reminding them who you belong to.”

[icollectcoolrocksalot]

lotf gen z au hcs

ralph - that one actually chill popular guy that everyone just has a mutual liking too, plays on the football team and is team captain, all the girls call him leng and ask him to snap them back. tells his annoying ass friends to stop when they make fun of some random year 7 with a big bag. amazing grades, him and jack have rivalry over it

jack - i don’t care what anyone says he’s an absolute SWAT. teachers pet, puts his hand up for every question and has all those badges on his blazer. gets made fun of for being ginger and a neek. still head choir boy in the school choir and also gets made fun of for that. predicted 8s and 9s and cried to his mum about a predicted 7. his parents definitely have him saved in their phones as “jackie sweetie pumpkin ❤️❤️”

piggy - gets picked on for every question and jack rages about it and sometimes gets sent out. exactly the same type of guy as beefy bert from horrid henry. also gets picked on but just for being fat and eating in the canteen by himself. jacks choir have their own table in the canteen and they throw food at piggy. actually pretty good grades though he just doesn’t work well under pressure.

roger - quiet ass emo looking guy no one really knows anything about but they don’t pick on him because he sent a kid to hospital once. has a criminal record. jacks closest mate, the two sing surprisingly well together. has a collection of animal skulls in his bedroom and he def has that voice that sounds like he has a blocked nose all the time. grades are in the middle ish the only reason he’s good is because he copies off of jack.

maurice - tries to be class clown. sometimes succeeds sometimes fails. only reason people like him is because he’ll do anything to get a laugh out of people. mates with roger, hes the type of guy to turn to roger and say “hey bud, why don’t you turn that frown upside down!” and he sings “i fell in love with an emo girl” at roger. completely dumb as hell tho has predicted 2s with the occasional 3 or 4. in choir but his voice is AWFUL so they got him to play piano. he plays rugby and is an INSANE tackler.

samneric - class clowns that are actually funny. also relatively good grades. they switch classes to mess up their teachers but one time eric fell down the stairs and broke his nose so you could tell the two apart. they’re funny at the right place in the right time and they’re in the year below jack, ralph, simon etc and they look up to maurice. they follow around jack and his choir or ralph but jack gets mad when they hang out with ralph and not him.

simon - also quiet kid but he’s painfully shy. pretty nice overall and he’s friends with ralph which is the only reason he doesn’t get picked on. people whisper about him though and he’s like a time bomb you never know when he’s gonna lose it. that one kid that has every pet at home known to mankind and he def brought his ferret into school once. in choir with jack and the others and they’re actually pretty nice to him, he hangs out with maurice and bill and harold etc. also piggy’s only friend. but secretly doesn’t really like him.

extra :

-the littluns are the year 7s that run for their lives to the canteen

-jack and maurice use brainrot language and jack will angrily huff “what the sigma?!” when he can’t figure something out

-jack and ralph both did the school play one year and actually became pretty good friends but then stopped talking for some unknown reason

[twyudai]

pls soft dom jo ik everyone sees him as a sub but i will forever defend shy soft dom jo. just imagine yapping about ur day to him but he cant seem to focus when all his focus is on the way how your lips move...

📬 i stand firmly on the soft!dom jo agenda—he reminds me of a lover boy who dates to marry and not for fun. i can see why people think he’s a sub but but he gives me soft puppy boyfriend. i also write predominant dom!idol so that could also be my daddy issues talking + jo is my top 3 so. i’m gonna enjoy writing this one.

he’d be staring so hard. listening to you, or not. throwing it random ‘damn really?’ or the iconic ‘oh wow,’. “yeah and then the manager, comes to her and it’s like a whole thing. she literally curses the manager out! i mean i understand but damn girl now you don’t have a job.” you laughed, rambling to your boyfriend like you did everyday after a hard day of working—but it was something about today.

joist couldn’t seem to focus on the topic at hand, the conversation. the way your curled up next to him with his hands placed on your legs. in which he’d placed over his lap when you both finished settling down for the night. “and she so annoying jo, seriously.. it just gets to a point.. i should probably start looking for another job.” he watched your lips, your eyebrows when the furrowed from talking about what was going on—how pretty you looked for him right now.

“baby,” jo blurted, his finger rubbed circles over your thigh, ghosting them “you know i love hearing you talk… but you’re sitting here looking like this.” his eyes were dark, the energy in the room changed just in an instant. “this good.. how could you expect me to focus so well?” he moved closer, placing a kiss on your jaw, you let a smile form on your lips. “shut up…” you muttered playfully.

but jo made his way between your legs, resting his body there as he kissed your lips, softly. with intent. and of course you’d melt underneath him—kissing him back with quickness because missing out on that would not be an option. “keep talking baby,” he whispered, lips moving down your neck—his hands slipping underneath his your shirt.

“well..” you felt his hand brush across your chest. rubbing your nipple and kneading your breasts, eyes fluttering shut. “i-.. i.” -/ “you what? what happens next baby?” you were lost in his touch. the way his fingers dragged so carefully and softly across your chest, like he was scared he’d break you. his hand began traveling south.

it was like you knew to spread your legs a little wider, bending the knee gently as his hands slipped into your panties. that could be another reason why he was so distracted, you weren’t wearing any bottoms—nor were you wearing a bra. you were ready for bedtime, but not on jo’s watch. once he felt your hips buckle under him—he knew he had you.

fingers pressing down on your clit, he gave them small rubs in circles. cutting your breath short—getting caught in the back of your throat. the soft padding of his long finger always sent you places—places you love visiting. because when no touched you it felt real.. like he could take his time with you and not worry about either of you getting bored.

“that’s it baby, those pretty sounds..” he listened to your moans, ears next to your mouth. was it a reach to say jo (or you) has a voice kink. and it was so obvious, the minute you’d start talking—your voice would drip down his ear, or down his chest. and sometimes he just could help but get hard—cock twitching in his boxers. feening to be touched.

jo slips one finger into you, earning a gasp from you, which sent him over the edge. “you’re doing so well for me..” he added another finger, a drawn out moan slipping. louder than before. it was deliberate—every thrust and curl of his fingers we feel and meant something. and when his thumb rubbed your clit—you were heaven sent.

“oh my god..” you whispered, fingers lightly digging into his wrists. back lightly arching off the couch. he stared at you, eyes dark but filled with pure love and lust for you. he looked at you like a fine china, handling you carefully and delicately. “r..right there.” your whimpers grow shakier, your hand gripping his hoodie, head buried against his neck as he keeps you close, murmuring praise right into your skin.

the sounds of your soaked, sopping cunt is what really sent him. the wet sound of your cunt, his wet fingers dipping in and out repeatedly—oh god jo was in love with every part of you.

biting my fist… that should be ME.

[keen-li]

Soft launch | jk

Summary: The one where you’ve been a solo OF creator for some time, but now your viewers are requesting to see you with a partner, but you only have...Jungkook as an option. Your closest friend.

18+ MDNI.

Jungkook x fem reader.

Friends to FWB, smut.

Warnings: filmed coitus, kissing, a down bad Jungkook?, fingering, neck kisses, implied virgin reader, penetration(protected.) sweet after care.

Note: smut practice No.1

A/n: this is just practice and i worked on it so fast there could be errors but I did try to edit it. i don’t know how to write smut so I’m working on it. If you think it’s cringe or don’t like it please don’t tell me 😊, I don’t want to know. This is just for fun and no thought.

Any positive, reply, ask or reblog is appreciated

Wc: 2.2k+

╰⊰♡⊱╮

“Really?” when you ask to clarify and he nods, you’re already getting excited. “Let me restart the video.”

You skip to the camera, making sure to end the previous one.

You’ve been doing filming for over a year now, you’re still new but it’s shocking how you’ve grown a large audience already.

Filming pays you so well that you’ve taken it up full time. And with that you’ve had to get creative.

You always did your work solo, it was comfortable and what made you feel the most confident. The people loved it. But it can get monotonous at times, and they made sure to let you know.

You’ve never minded requests; they help you alleviate the pressure of thinking of how to be creative next. So, when people start requesting you to get a partner, it made you do a double take.

Working with someone isn’t something you mind doing. But what really concerned you was your comfortability. You couldn’t walk up to a random person and ask if they could film with you. You never had friends in the industry, and only one male friend. Your female friends don’t swing that way.

So, you were stuck.

But then your thoughts went back to the only male friend you have. Jungkook. He was single and supported what you did.

So, would he help you?

You were scared to ask, but it was worth the shot. If he said no then you could pretend it was a lie. He was very open minded to things, so could he be to this? It’s definitely playing at the seams of things you’ve never thought of in your friendship.

So, it was a shock to you when he said yes, very quickly as well.

“Maybe you should hold the camera.” You tilt your head to the side, doubting what route you should go with this. “For a better angle you get?” he nods.

Cause of the job people wouldn’t believe you’ve actually never slept with anyone before. That’s the main reason you don’t have other male friends. They’d always try to sleep with you. You were never interested in that. and that’s what made Jungkook different.

He never tried to sleep with you, you’d joke flirtishly, but it was never more than that. That’s why you feel comfortable enough to do this with him.

Plus, the other guys always judged you or slut shamed you for what you did. But Jungkook never did, he’s actually the one who bought you the camera you’re using currently.

He also taught how to set up and direct yourself. And the reason he’s here tonight was to help you film a video.

“I’ll hold it.” He says walking over to grab the camera from your grip, his fingers brushing past you longer than normal.

It’s Jungkook, filming should feel easier. “it’ll feel more natural.”

You just nod. You’ve been filming most of your content by yourself and still don’t get the camera thing.

You’re glad he’s here.

“You want me to--” the gesture you make with your hands has him laughing. You pout though and he stops.

“You want to be a fluffer?” the smile from the laugh lingers.

“I’m just asking.”

He chuckles.

“I’ll be fine.”

Thanks to the video you were recording before, he’s partially there.

Watching the way, you touched yourself, how soft your breaths and moans escaped your plushie rose lips. It was a sight to see.

You know how to touch yourself but you definitely need someone to show you deeper pleasure.

“Kook, stop teasing.”

“Content. I’m sure the people like to see little desperation.”

“This video’s gonna be an hour long if you keep that up.”

“I don’t mind.” He has a cheeky smile on his face but you’re having none of it. “Fine. You’re the boss.” He’s only letting you have your way cause it for your page, and he wants to respect the request. but if it was what he wanted, that mouth would’ve been too caught up to whine.

Jungkook pulls your panties off. You have no clue how he does it so swiftly with one hand. He gets it done and now he can stare at your wetness.

“you’re staring.” You inform him like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Again...if it was on his terms.

“Is this for me?” he runs a cold finger through your folds. You lay ass at the edge of the bed and he stands between your thighs.

You bite your lower lips the longer he traces through them. Is this what it feels like to have someone else do it.

“it’s for the camera.”

“Hard to believe when I’m the one with a finger in you.” At that a finger slips into you. Slow, but determined you fully settle in. You’ve done it yourself before, so why does it feel new with his.

“Fuck kook.” You call when another is added.

“I was supposed to eat you out but since you’re in a hurry...” they glide in and out, pulling a moan from you eat time. Jungkook grows a lopsided smile watching how you squirm just from his fingers. Sweet girl. “...we can save it for another video.”

Another video? You hadn’t though about that. Your viewers would want more, so it does make sense. But... he’s okay with doing another video.

He’s ecstatic. This would be enough. it is nice, but it wouldn’t be enough. he needs to feel you in everyway. Your weight on him, his face. The way you taste, how long would you last?

And his personal favourite.

How many times can he make you come?

All those things make him want to come back.

Not to say that he’s been thinking about this. He’s loves your friendship and loves how you get along as friends. You’ve been friends for awhile and with that comes him witnesses all the shitty guys you encounter, he’s glad you’ve never given then what they were hoping. Honestly, they wouldn’t know what to do with all this.

He wants to see you succeed and be happy, and if fucking you gets you closer to that then he’ll be here...

Right in your tight cunt...

He’s kind of hating this camera right now. Holding it and trying to touch every part of you is hard. And frustrating.

And you can sense it. “You, okay?” you sit up on your elbows and you’re met with exactly what you felt. His brows knitted and tongue poking his cheek. It’s hot when he does that. and he’s so stupid for not noticing how you drip even more after it.

“Yeah, I just need to put this somewhere.”

You knew he’d get tired of it eventually. “Let me grab the--”

“uh-uh...just lay there.” He commands and you don’t move.

He goes to grab the stand.

When he turns, he finds you on your elbows. He hopes this image of you stays on his mind forever. It’s a dangerous wish. But he’d risk it.

You can feel you mouth water when you catch the bulge clearly begging to be touched. He smacks your hand away when you reach.

“Next video I want to suck you off.” You’re not even staring at him, cause you’d see how he pokes his tongue again and his cheeks turn rosier.

Jungkook can’t deny the effect the words have on him. And now he’s getting impatient.

He loves that you’re settling into the idea. Maybe he’ll become your full-time partner. But for him fucking you is the payment; you can keep all the money you earn.

Not knowing how to respond with words he just smirks.

You want to remark how he doesn’t respond but he’s thumb on your clit shuts you up. He knew it would.

His fingers adjust to the warmth. The sounds you and your body make are ethereal. He needs to be closer. So, leaning over he latches at a nipple and your back arches immediately. You’re making sure you can be heard but unlike others, you really mean it.

He’s all over you, kissing up your chest, wet kisses on your neck. You can barely stay in one position, the pleasure of having someone else pleasure you is overwhelming. It’s a new feeling, but your body adjust quickly and you’re begging for more.

“Kiss me.”

He pauses, and when his face is in your view his eyes soften. “Really?” kissing would feel really intimate and he’s not sure if that’s what you were intending. But he doesn’t mind. Not at all.

Your nod comes out rushed and just as fast his lips capture yours. Your hands immediately move to touching anything you want. His hair, under his shirt, you tease to go lower but the pull at your lips stops you. You smile.

Your lips move simultaneously, the feeling soft but deep; proving how bad you don’t want him to stop. You need more of this feeling.

Your tongues battle for dominance, but how much of a fight is it when he’s winning. He smirks when you moan into the kiss.

And that’s all you can handle, you need more. So you pull away, confusing him.

“I need you.”

“I’m here.”

His lips are on your neck again and as much as you’d love him to keep going just like that. there’s a purpose to all of this.

“Wanna feel you.”

Immediately a hot wave of blood rushes down him. And he can only bite his lips. You really know how to shut him up.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He says against your lips. It’s unprompted but not really. It’s just everything about you, maybe he’s doomed himself by doing this. Cause even from the little he’s had; you’ve ruined him for anyone else. Not that he was looking for anyone else.

Seeing that you were solo, birth control was not a thing for you. So, he’s quick to grabbing protection. Maybe now you’ll consider the, seeing that you’re considering more of this anyways.

You watch him slip it over, his eyes on you the whole time.

When he’s between your legs, you lift your hips, just to be an inch closer to him.

“So impatient...” he mocks. “I’m not going anywhere baby.”

You hope he doesn’t.

Grabbing himself, he inches to your core but then you stop him...

“The camera kook.’

“Oh yeah.” Forgot about it.

He points the device to where you meet. He pushes your legs apart, when you threaten to close them.

“So tight. fuck” He mumbles, inching deeper and stretching you out. You wish you could reach him, claw at his back and leave marks to remind him how good this feels.

A whimper escapes your lips when he’s in deeper. The stretch stings but soon turns to pleasure. More than you’ve ever given yourself.

“You good?” he pauses and you want to yell at him for it, but you get it. The stretch feels so new and he wouldn’t want to hurt.

“Mhm.”

“Feels good?”

The moan and gasps are enough of an answer for him.

“She’s taking me so well guys.”

Shit you forgot about the camera. Should you post this? Fuck. You have to, that was the point.

Feeling like you’re more settled Jungkook begins rocking, still holding himself for control.

“Feels so good kook.” you whimper, shutting your eyes.

“I know baby.”

He’s not even moving fast and it feel like heaven. You won’t last long...shit.

More slick dripping out aides his movement. And he begins rocking faster.

You have no clue where to hold onto or what to say. You grip your sheets spewing out who knows what...his movements get faster and you’re getting louder.

Your viewer’s will love this. How he’s slipping into your cunt. How you’re inching away but he has to pull you back with one hand. How you whimper and chant his name with curses.

The slapping of skin is melodious with your moans. With the way you twitch around him he knows you’re close. So, he rubs on your clit to intensify the pleasure and you’re seeing lights.

His name spills out your mouth continuously has you feel the pressure. The knot tightens and you’re inching closer to the feeling.

“don’t stop.” You beg.

“wasn’t going to darling.” It’s the pleasure, it’s the hand that grips your thigh and it’s the pet name and if your eyes were open it would be the way he looks and smiles down at you.

He continues you rock into you and rub your clit until the knot snaps. And it’s never snapped like this.

Your body shakes and you tighten around him, bring him closer as well.

“fuck..” He grunts as he twitches into the latex like he’s never done before in a while.

You’re stuck between time. What the fuck just happened?

Jungkook slips out of you and you internally whine and the loss. He throws the rubber in your bathroom. You flinch when you feel a damp cloth on our core.

When did he even leave the room?

“You did so good.” He kisses down your sweaty chest. It feels good. When you’re alone you have no one to reassure you. So, it feels great to hear him say that.

He’s taken by surprise when you pull him and kiss his lips.

“Now, I don’t want to post it.” You pout and he watches ever inch of your features.

“That would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” he stares into your eyes not able to move away cause you’re holding him closer so kiss him. He loves it. He leans into the kiss before you’re pulling away again.

“no.”

╰⊰♡⊱╮

[s0s1mple]

Caught My Eye - Lee Heeseung

———————

Random Prompt:

“I saw you around my home. I couldn’t help but want to take you.”

Random Member: Heeseung

TW: General yandere behavior, stalking, sexual fantasy, kidnapping

———————

Heeseung liked girls. A lot. Liked looking at them, liked flirting with them, liked fucking them and then moving onto the next one that caught his attention. Really, he considered himself a bit of a sommelier when it came to women. He tasted a bit of each, easily worming into their hearts and pants with some well-placed touches and bright smiles, before spitting them right back out and searching for the taste he really craved.

Unfortunately, Heeseung had yet to find that flavor of girl. The ones he slept with were nice, sure. Hot, sexy, cute, take your pick. But they lacked that wow factor, lacked that special something that would have him actually jonesing for a second fix. Heeseung wanted to know what that was like; what was it that made people choose each other? That made them content to stick with one another and sample each other over and over and over. The whole concept frankly sounded boring to him. Inconceivable.

Until he saw you.

Heeseung wasn’t fully sure what it was about you that had drawn his attention. You weren’t particularly interesting, from an objective standpoint. You dressed normally, comfortably, no shorts to draw his attention to your legs or v-neck to pull his gaze to your chest. Your face was… attractive, he guessed. Pretty average though. The sort of face he knew he’d normally see and instantly forget.

But none of that seemed to matter, because the second he saw you passing through the alley that ran between his house and the apartment complex next door, his brain felt like it had downloaded a computer virus. Like it’d completely shut down and rebooted itself with all new code. Gone were the preferences he’d had before, all vague ideas of what he wanted in a partner suddenly replaced with oddly specific adjectives. All of it pertaining to you, the stranger who seemed to like cutting by his property for a shortcut to the library.

He felt like he was defective. What the fuck was going on? Why was it that every time you passed by his kitchen window, your lips pursed as you bobbed your head to music, he stopped what he was doing and watched you. Whenever you appeared, he felt like he’d fallen into a glue trap, his attention so solely stuck on you that everyone else felt hazy.

And fuck, he couldn’t even escape you in his everyday life either. He’d be busy working, his focus entirely on not accidentally crushing his fingers, before all of a sudden his mind drifted to you. What were you doing? What did you do in your free time? What kind of things did you like? Did you have parents? Siblings? A boyfriend? The thought made him irrationally annoyed, for some bizarre reason, which in turn made him even more annoyed. Lee Heeseung didn’t get pussy-whipped, especially when he hadn’t even been in said pussy.

And boy, if that didn’t give him an idea. What if he just got whatever the hell this was out of his system? Surely that would clear all this bullshit out of his brain and leave room for his usual routine once more. Yeah, that would totally work.

So next time Heeseung saw you, he rushed out his front door, fully intending to ‘accidentally’ bump into you and turn his charm up to eleven. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to get in your pants, right?

But as he accidentally-on-purpose bumped into you, false apologies spilling from his lips, he paused. His plan faded from mind. You were looking up at him, easily matching his perfect white smile with a slightly crooked one of your own, eyes crinkled. His heart stuttered. He stared at you, eyes wide, and it became him who did the stammering. “A-Ah, sorry about that…”

“No worries!” You were already moving on before he’d even finished, the interaction so seemingly inconsequential to you that he was sure you’d already begun to forget. It made his skin itch all the more. Why was it that you could care so little, could exist without reciprocating the infatuation in the slightest. It was so fucking unfair. So unfair. His fingers clenched. For the first time, Heeseung felt off balance.

He hated that feeling. Despised it. Lee Heeseung wasn’t nervous, wasn’t led around by some dumb crush sinking its teeth into him. That wasn’t who he was.

He needed to regain control.

Truthfully, Heeseung hadn’t known what that might entail. First he’d thought about resuming his attempt to sleep with you, but the idea of a pump and dump had made his mind violently uncomfortable for some bizarre reason. Then he tried ignoring you completely, even installing shutters on his kitchen windows. Then he’d tried simply learning more about you, an attempt to sate his curiosity by following you routine through the city. Then, as you passed by his porch like usual, his arm was suddenly wrapped around your middle, palm pressed flat against your mouth. In a couple smooth motions, he was yanking you up the porch steps and dragging your kicking, thrashing form into the house.

“Shh, shh! Shut up!” His brain, slowly realizing what the fuck he was doing, began to blare out ringing alarm bells. His arm shifted up to wrap around your throat, anything to stop your jerking, and he pulled hard. You were soon gasping into his palm, breath warm and hot and making Heeseung inexplicably hot himself, but to little avail. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you fell limply into his arms. “Fuck.” Heeseung stared at you for a long moment, dimly registering that he’d just picked you up and taken you. More prominently, he registered his lack of concern about the matter.

Worrying, probably.

Nothing stopped him from hauling you up into his bedroom. Nothing stopped him from tying your hands to his headboard with that cheap bondage shit he’d once thought looked so tantalizing on the girls he’d brought home. All of a sudden, the idea of someone other than you laying there in them felt somehow disgusting. Like the mere idea that they could compare was an affront to whatever god was out there. Because surely that was where this obsession had come from, right? So out of the blue like this, so all-consuming that he was cooing over your passed out form like one of those whipped boyfriends he was so disgusted by. Nothing stopped him from grooming your hair back, marveling at the feel of your skin, wondering if the rest of your body just as soft. Nothing stopped him from licking his suddenly dry lips as he traced a palm over your hip.

God, it was going to be so good when you gave into him. The sweetest flavor he’d ever tasted- one that would pull him back over and over and that he found he didn’t mind double-dipping with. As you blinked awake blearily, confusion and fear seeping into your eyes, Heeseung’s mouth stretched into a blinding, charming smile.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. Feeling alright? Sorry about all this, but I saw you around my home.” He leaned in closer, chuckling at the way your shoulders pulled in. Cute. His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “I couldn’t help but to want to take you for myself.”

———

Reqs are open, feel free to drop in and say hi :)