#if you know me at all you knew this was coming

[aesthetically-dying101]

how would the reader finds out that they were a bet (jjk men) but not only were they a bet but their entire friend group (the rest of the jjk group) knew about it and kept it from the reader?

I've fallen for a lie.

A/N: (inspired by: No time to die, my friend plays it on repeat) so... don't hate me, but personally, i think angst is HILARIOUS. ALSO, this is pure pain and suffering. fluff if you squint. Also i went overboard, like completely, i wrote way too much, my fav one is sukuna's.

DISCLAMER: i got this request 6 or so days ago, i've been working on this ever since, i did not copy retiredteabag (who did this post), someone just requested it on both our accounts. I wrote way too much just to throw this out so like.. yeah, proof (just in case, i just don't wanna start drama), but thank you to the anon that requested this!!!

Contents: pain. grovelling pathetic men. reader standing on bussiness bc i dislike the weepy y/n. yearning but like heartache. (im sorry for the choso/gojo/geto fans, this sucks for yall) nanami is perfect as always bc he's him. mostly angst.. toxic relationships.

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

Three years.

Three years of laughter, memories, promises, and whispered secrets. Three years of holding his hand through everything, supporting him when the world felt like it was crumbling, believing that what you two had was real.

And it was all a lie.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone, the conversation with Haibara still ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded in your chest as each word replayed in your head like an unrelenting drumbeat.

“It was a dare. Nanami was dared to approach you that night at the bar. He didn’t even know who you were at first.”

It was a dare.

Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat as a cold sweat broke out along your neck. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. You must’ve misunderstood. Haibara had to be joking. That’s the only explanation. But why would he joke about something like that?

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, drowning out the sound of everything else. Nanami. The man you had come to love more than anyone else. The man who had asked you to marry him last month—last month—was a part of some sick bet? A dare?

You grabbed the edge of the table for support, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Three years… Was it all just some game to him? Every soft touch, every shared meal, every late-night conversation? Was it all just some joke? A cruel one at that?

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, yanking open the closet, throwing your clothes into a suitcase in a frenzy. The pain in your chest was so sharp, so visceral, it felt like a thousand knives stabbing into your soul. This was not happening. Not to you. Not after everything.

Your thoughts spiraled. No, no, no... How could he do this? How could he stand in front of you, gaze so soft, and tell you he loved you, that he wanted to build a life with you? He’d proposed. He’d promised. And now, it was all just a lie.

A dare.

The door clicked open, and the sound of his voice made your heart freeze in your chest.

“(Y/N)?” Nanami called, his tone light but confused, as if nothing was wrong.

You froze mid-packing, every muscle in your body locking in place. You could feel the heat of tears pooling in your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Not now. Not when your entire life felt like it was collapsing around you.

You didn’t turn to face him. You couldn’t.

“(Y/N)... What’s going on? You’re packing—” His voice trailed off as he stepped closer, the sound of his shoes against the hardwood floor making the room feel smaller, more suffocating.

“Stop. Just stop,” you said, the words barely leaving your throat before they cracked.

You turned to face him, your hands shaking, the sight of him making you feel dizzy with anger and betrayal. His eyes widened at the sight of your suitcase, your movements hurried, frantic.

“(Y/N)... What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, too calm, like he was still in control. The nerve.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” you repeated, your voice rising as the weight of the truth came crashing down on you. “You don’t get to ask that. You don’t get to play the innocent card here. You lied to me, Nanami. For three years, you lied to me. And so did they.”

His expression faltered. It didn’t take much—just a flicker of realization in his eyes, but it was enough- and the worse part? You had called him Nanami. His expression was enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

“Y-You don’t understand…” Nanami started, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let me explain—”

“Explain?” you interrupted, your voice rising to a dangerous pitch. “You want to explain? There’s nothing to explain, Nanami. You were dared to talk to me. That’s it. That’s where it all started. Everything else, everything, was just... just what? Some twisted joke?” Your fists clenched at your sides, the raw anger and hurt making it hard to breathe.

His face shifted from confusion to guilt, then to desperation.

“I— Yes. It started as a dare, but everything after that was real. I never—”

“You never what?!” You couldn’t control your emotions any longer. “You never thought you’d fall for me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

The coldness in your voice made his face fall. But he still pushed forward, trying to fix the mess he’d made.

“I swear to you, after that night—after we started talking—I fell for you. I fell hard, and I’ve never once regretted it. I love you. I’ve loved you from the very first time we met, even if it started as a dare, even if it was a stupid game, it was real for me. Everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done for you... It’s been real. I swear on everything, it’s been real.”

“Really?” The bitter laugh that left your lips was sharp, cruel. “You want me to believe that after all of this? After you had the gall to propose to me last month? You think that now is when I should trust you?”

You took a deep breath, each word cutting through the air like a blade. “I’m done. I’m done, Nanami. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a fool. You don’t get to lie to me for three years, and then think you can fix it by saying ‘I love you.’”

You turned away from him, your movements deliberate as you grabbed the engagement ring from your finger. The diamond caught the light, flashing like a cruel reminder of everything that had been taken from you.

You slammed the ring down onto the table, the harsh sound echoing through the apartment. Nanami froze, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

The sight of his face made the sting in your chest even worse.

“I’m not your fucking bet, Nanami. I’m not your fucking game.” Your voice broke, but you forced yourself to keep going. “I don’t need your lies. I don’t need you.”

You could feel his presence behind you, his breath heavy with emotion. “Please, my love, don’t leave like this. We can fix this. I swear to you—”

You turned toward him, your eyes burning with fury and sorrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the mature one? The one who’s so responsible? The one who’s always so calm and collected?” You stepped toward him, your voice full of venom. “But you’re just a liar.”

You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t breathe in this suffocating space any longer.

You shoved past him, your heart racing as you grabbed your things and headed toward the door. You slammed it shut behind you with finality, the sound ringing in your ears.

Nanami was left standing there, frozen in the silence of his own regret, the weight of your departure heavy in the air.

And as you walked away, your mind couldn’t shake the image of him, his broken face, his pain.

*-*

Three days. It had only been three days since everything fell apart. Three days since the man you thought you’d spend your life with turned out to be nothing more than a liar—well, not just a liar. A liar who dared to approach you. The realization felt like a poison that had seeped into your bones, one you couldn’t shake. You spent those three days in a fog of confusion, anger, and heartbreak.

You hadn’t gone back to your apartment; hell, you couldn’t. There was nothing left for you there. No trace of the life you thought you were building. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you went to your parents.

They’d been kind, as they always were, but their words didn’t reach you. They didn’t fix the deep, hollow ache in your chest. They didn’t make you forget the way Nanami had lied to you. The way he had made you believe that everything was real… until it wasn’t.

Your mom had tried to rationalize, telling you that maybe Nanami made a mistake, that people do things they regret, that maybe he’d never intended for it to go this far. Your father had simply kept quiet, unsure of what to say, but you could tell by the way he watched you that he was worried.

But none of their words made it past the wall you’d built around yourself. They weren’t wrong. They were just trying to comfort you. But how could you be comforted by someone who had deceived you? You’d given him everything, and now, what did you have left? A broken heart. A destroyed future.

Your mind spiraled as you sat on your bed, staring blankly at the wall. You were so angry, but most of all… you just missed him. You missed his voice, the way his hand felt in yours, the calm that came with being in his presence.

Why did he have to lie? Why did he have to make me believe it was real?

A soft knock on your door startled you. You didn’t move, didn’t respond. The door creaked open anyway, and your mother’s voice gently filled the silence.

“Honey, I know you're angry right now, but maybe it’s time to—”

You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear anything about Nanami right now, especially not from her.

“Mom,” you said in a soft, tired voice, “please, just… just leave me alone. I don’t want to hear it.”

Your mother hesitated, as though weighing her words, but then she sighed. “I just… I want you to be happy again. I can’t see you like this.”

Before she could leave, she muttered something under her breath. It was so soft, almost like she was speaking to herself. “You were so happy with him, though. I could see it… We all could.”

You didn’t hear the door close.

You felt the sudden tension in the air before you even registered what was happening. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard footsteps coming toward the room. Your head snapped toward the doorway, and there, standing in the frame, was him.

Nanami.

Your breath caught in your throat. What the hell was he doing here?

Your mother gave you one last look, a silent apology in her eyes, before she turned and walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was suffocating. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you even wanted to say anything to him. He didn’t deserve your words.

And then, in the stillness, you let out a frustrated screech. The emotion you’d been bottling up for days finally exploded. You stood, shoving the blanket off the bed, pacing the room. How dare he show up here? You were so fucking angry. You didn’t even care that he was standing there, looking like he was about to crumble to pieces himself.

“You don’t get to just show up here!” you snapped, your voice shaking. “You lied to me, Nanami! You fucking lied to me, and now you think you can just walk back in and pretend everything’s fine?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stood there, his eyes dark with pain, his fists clenched at his sides. And then, without a word, he walked over to you, and before you could protest, he shoved something into your lap.

You looked down.

A stack of printed screenshots. What the hell was this?

You picked them up hesitantly, your fingers trembling as you stared at the words on the page. You saw his name. Haibara’s. You saw group messages, text conversations, timestamps. You felt a sickening pang in your chest as the realization began to sink in.

These were from the night you first met.

These were from the weeks after that night.

“I… I don’t understand.” You glanced up at him, your voice shaking. “What is this? What the hell is this supposed to prove?”

He swallowed hard, clearly trying to gather his composure. “Look at the messages. Read them.”

You flipped through the pages. The first few were from that night. They were screenshots of Haibara daring him to approach you, followed by Nanami’s messages in the group chat—messages about how nervous he was, how much he wanted to make a good impression, how he thought he might’ve met the love of his life.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were suffocating. Why didn’t he just tell me this?

His eyes softened, and he took a shaky breath. “I wanted to, but… I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how to say it without you thinking it was all a lie. I was terrified you’d leave me. But I couldn’t stop falling for you, (Y/N). I swear to you, everything after that night… it was real. I never thought this would happen. I never thought I would fall in love with you, but I did.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at the messages in disbelief. They were real. He hadn’t edited them. You looked up at him, the pain in your chest intensifying.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you just say something? I spent three years thinking it was all a lie. You could have told me.”

“I should have,” Nanami whispered. He took a step closer to you, his hands shaking. “I should have told you sooner. I was stupid. I was so scared that if you knew, you’d leave. But I… I love you. And I’ve loved you from the very start.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but your heart was still so raw, so broken. “This doesn’t just go away, Nanami. You can’t just… fix this.”

His face fell. “I know. I know I can’t. But I’m willing to do anything. I’ll go to marriage counseling. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Please, [Y/N]. Please.”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears from falling. “I can’t just go back to being with you. It’s not that easy.”

He nodded, stepping closer to you. His voice was raw, almost pleading now. “I know. I’m not asking for that. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. And I’ll keep fighting for you… for us.”

The words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You couldn’t decide if you should scream at him or pull him close. You were so angry, but you were also so fucking heartbroken.

But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the villain in this story. He was just a man who had made the most terrible mistake of his life. And you had been his greatest love all along.

Could you forgive him?

You didn’t know. But maybe… maybe there was a way.

It started like any other day, or at least it felt that way.

Megumi was at school, leaving you with the quiet hum of your and Toji's house. You cleaned, you cooked, you settled into the role you had grown to love. Step-mom. You could never have imagined you'd be so attached to that boy, but there you were. Caring for him, nurturing him like he was your own flesh and blood, even when it felt impossible.

The bond was real, undeniable.

And then… the phone call came. It was innocent at first—a quick check-in from Shiu. But it wasn’t the usual chat about Megumi’s progress at school or the latest movie you all wanted to see. It was different.

It was calculated.

The words hit you like a slap.

"It was a bet, Y/N. From the start. You were never meant to be anything more than that..."

You blinked. You heard him, but your mind couldn't fully grasp it. Your heart tried to deny it.

"A bet?" you whispered to yourself, voice quivering, feeling the blood drain from your face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Toji and I, we made a bet. You were never meant to be the one. You were just… entertainment."

His words were sharp, laced with a smugness that made you sick. It felt like your entire world—no, your very identity—was just ripped from you in a moment of cruel reality.

You didn’t even hang up. You didn’t even need to. Your thoughts were spinning, dizzy with disbelief and betrayal. How could they? They—your friends, Toji’s closest allies—all knew. They knew, and not one of them bothered to tell you. Not one of them had the decency to warn you.

You weren’t even a person to them. You were a game, a pawn. A prize that Toji had to win.

Tears welled in your eyes. Your heart cracked open like a fragile shell. The life you thought you had built—Megumi, Toji, this family, this home—crumbled. You were just a tool, an object in their bet.

"No." The word broke through the veil of shock, raw and bitter. "No. I can’t—I can’t stay here. I need to leave."

You jumped up from the couch, grabbing your purse with trembling hands. It was like you were on autopilot, moving solely on the instinct to escape. The door. You just needed to get to the door. Leave. Go anywhere. But as you moved to turn the handle, it wouldn't budge.

You shook the knob harder, panic seizing your chest. It was locked. You turned to the windows, but they were all shut tight, reinforced. The walls felt like they were closing in on you.

"Toji," you whispered his name, the desperation in your voice clear.

The footsteps behind you weren’t subtle. You felt his presence before he spoke.

"Where do you think you’re going?" His voice was low, almost soothing, but you knew better. You knew the danger behind the calmness.

You spun around, anger bubbling up, fighting through the layers of hurt. "You locked the door?"

"Not just the door, sweetheart," he said, his smile sickeningly sweet, like it could erase everything he'd just shattered. "You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. With me."

The tears you had been holding back finally fell, hot and painful. "You think I’ll just stay after this?"

Toji didn’t flinch. His eyes, dark and intense, never left you as he took a slow step forward.

"You’ve been good to Megumi," he said, his voice soft but laced with something darker. "You’ve been like a real mom to him. And now, you think you’ll just throw that away? Just like that?" He clicked his tongue, a disappointed shake of his head. "You’re too important to him."

The way he said it… It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even a question. It was a claim. A manipulation.

"What are you talking about?"

"You think Megumi won’t miss you?" Toji’s smile widened, and there was something almost predatory in his eyes. "You think he won’t notice? After everything you’ve done for him, after how you’ve helped him… You’re too good to leave."

His hands reached for you then, slow and deliberate, like he was reaching for something fragile, something precious. You backed away, but he was faster, gripping your arms and pulling you into his chest.

"No. No," you said, your voice shaking with the weight of all the lies. "You’re a fucking monster."

"You don’t mean that," Toji cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin. "I know you’re angry. I get it. I really do. But this? This isn’t something we can just walk away from. You’ve got a place here now. A real place, with me and Megumi."

You pushed against his chest, but his grip only tightened, unyielding. "You think you can just control me like this?"

"You were a bet," he whispered, his voice rough now, but his grip still unshaken. "But you’re more than that now. You’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere."

Your heart broke all over again as you realized the depth of his control over you, the twisted grip he had on your life. You didn’t know if you hated him more for what he had done, or for what he had become.

"Please," you choked out, voice breaking. "Please let me go. I can’t do this anymore."

But even as you begged, you knew it was useless. The door was locked, and your heart had been sealed shut behind it.

He pulled you closer, almost tender now, pressing his lips to your ear in a way that sent chills down your spine. "Don’t worry, baby." His words were dark, possessive. "You’ll understand. You’re gonna stay here. You’ll stay for me. For Megumi. And you’re gonna love it."

And as you stood there, helpless in his arms, the room spinning with the weight of everything you had lost, you knew one painful truth: you would never leave. Because Toji wouldn’t let you.

And that was worse than any bet.

The world felt softer when Gojo was around.

The way his laughter filled the room, buoyant and unapologetic, made the edges of your anxiety blur. You were tucked away in a corner booth at your favorite cafe, his long legs brushing yours under the table as he speared your last bite of cake with his fork. You swatted at him, mock-offended, but his grin was so wide, so annoyingly genuine, that you couldn’t help but laugh. Gojo had this way of making you feel like the center of his universe, and after four months, you were hopelessly, undeniably in love.

“I’m telling you,” he drawled, tilting his head back dramatically, “you’re the only person who doesn’t find my charm overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Oh, believe me, you’re overwhelming. Just not in the way you think.”

It was easy, being with him. Too easy. You excused yourself to the bathroom, still smiling, still warm, still thinking about the way his thumb had grazed yours when he handed your the cup of tea earlier. But when you returned, you froze just outside the booth.

“...I can’t believe she still hasn’t figured it out.”

“That’s the point of a bet, idiot,” another voice chimed in, one you recognized as Geto’s.

“Yeah, but four months? That’s dedication,” someone else snickered.

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s Gojo. He always has to win,” Geto said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I mean, she’s cute, but still... a bet’s a bet.”

The air seemed to suck out of the room. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag as your chest constricted, bile rising in your throat.

Bet? Bet?

Your feet felt like lead as you forced yourself forward. You didn’t look at any of them, didn’t dare meet Gojo’s eyes as you muttered something about not feeling well and left. He texted you an hour later, asking where you'd gone. You stared at his message for ten minutes before replying,

-“Period cramps. Really bad.”

His response came almost immediately: “You should’ve said something! Want me to come over?”

You stared at your phone, fingers trembling as you typed out, “No. I’m fine.”

Dry. Short. Controlled. Your heart wasn’t in it.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, you collapsed onto the couch and screamed into the cushions until your throat was raw. How could he? How could they? The whole group—your friends—had known and said nothing. Your tears burned, but fury burned hotter. Your mind replayed every moment, every kiss, every laugh. How much of it had been real?

The week that followed was suffocating. Gojo’s texts came in, as lively and obnoxious as always, but you gave him nothing in return.

-“Morning! Did you sleep okay?” -“Fine.” -“Want to grab dinner tonight? My treat 😉” -“Busy.”

He called once. You let it ring until it stopped.

At work, you barely acknowledged him. He’d saunter up to your desk, his usual grin plastered on his face, but your responses were curt, your eyes glued to your screen.

“Hey, you good? You’ve been acting weird.”

You looked up at him, expression blank. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

The next group hangout was unbearable. They were all there, laughing and joking like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t all played you for a fool. You were quiet, cold, your presence an icicle in their usual warmth.

“Hey, let’s grab a drink,” Gojo said, nudging your arm.

You stared at him, your jaw tight, before jerking your head toward a quiet corner. “We need to talk.”

He blinked but followed you, his usual confidence faltering under your glare. “What’s—”

“I’m done,” you said, loud enough that the others turned to look-god you wanted to humiliate him. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, Gojo. Your childish, manipulative, disgusting behavior.”

His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. The bet.” Your voice cracked on the word, but you pressed on, relentless. “Four months of my life, and it was a goddamn bet? Was it worth it, Satoru? Did you win?”

The color drained from his face. “Wait—how—”

“And you,” you snapped, turning to the rest of them. “All of you knew, didn’t you? You’re all assholes. Every single one of you. I trusted you, and you laughed behind my back.”

“Wait, it wasn’t—” Geto started, you cut him off with a glare that could shatter glass.

“I’m done,” you repeated, voice trembling with rage. “Have a nice life.”

You didn’t wait for a response, didn’t look back as you stormed out. Your chest felt like it was caving in, but for the first time in days, you could breathe.

Blocking them was the first thing she did when she got home. Every single one of them. Instagram, Twitter, Facebook (who even uses that anymore??), WhatsApp, even Spotify—gone. You didn’t want any trace of them in your life. No drunken messages. No half-assed apologies. No reminders of what you'd lost, what they’d taken from you.

Your phone buzzed relentlessly for the first few hours. Calls, texts, notifications from burner accounts, and even an email with the subject line, "Please, just talk to me." You deleted it without opening it. You didn’t owe him—any of them—anything.

The silence that followed was both a relief and a weight. Days stretched into a week, then two, and while you were still raw, still angry, you were learning how to exist in the emptiness they left behind.

Gojo, on the other hand, was unraveling.

At first, he was sure it was a misunderstanding. You'd cool off, he thought. You'd always had a fiery temper, but you weren't cruel. You wouldn’t just cut him off.

Except you did.

When he showed up at your apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers—the kind you loved—you didn’t answer the door. He stood there for half an hour, knocking and calling your name until a neighbor threatened to call the cops. He left the flowers on your doorstep, only to find them in the trash the next day, petals wilting, stems bent.

His texts became desperate.

"I messed up. Please, just let me explain." "I know you're mad, but I swear, it wasn’t like that." "I… I miss you. Can we just talk? Please?"

You read them all. Deleted every single one without replying.

At work, he tried to corner you in the break room, but you turned on your heel and walked out without a word. During a meeting, he sat across from you, staring holes into you as if his gaze alone could break your silence. But you didn’t look at him once.

One evening, he left a note on your desk: "Meet me on the rooftop after work. I just want to talk." You crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the trash right in front of him.

The rest of their friend group tried to intervene. Geto texted you a half-hearted, "I know we messed up. Can we talk? I’ll explain." You blocked him immediately.

Shoko showed up at her apartment unannounced, knocking softly and saying through the door, “Hey, I just want to say I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for it to go this far—”

“Go away.” Your voice was cold, flat. You didn’t wait to hear Shoko’s reply before turning up your music to drown her out.

Gojo hit his breaking point one night when he sent her a long, rambling voice note. His voice was rough, almost frantic.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. The bet—it wasn’t supposed to mean anything! I wasn’t supposed to… to feel this way about you. But I do. God, I do. And now I’ve ruined it. I ruined us. I know I can’t fix it, but please, just… just tell me how to make it right. I’ll do anything.”

You listened to it exactly once. Not to feel anything, but to make sure you weren't imagining the crack in his voice, the sound of him breaking- you almost thought about answering. Maybe there was a valid excuse- no.

It should’ve satisfied you. It didn’t. You deleted it.

Weeks turned into months, and Gojo still couldn’t let go. He went through every stage of grief, cycling between anger, guilt, and desperation. He replayed every moment they’d shared, trying to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong, where he could’ve fixed it before it fell apart.

But you had moved on—or at least, you made it look like you had. Your Instagram was private now, your profile picture replaced with something generic. Your Spotify playlists—once filled with songs you'd joked were about him—were gone. You were a ghost, haunting him in your absence.

And of course, at their next group hangout, you weren't there.

“She’s done with us,” Shoko said quietly, picking at the label on her beer.

Gojo didn’t respond. He was staring at his phone, scrolling through their old messages, reading your words over and over again like they were the only pieces of you he had left.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” “I trusted you.” “Have a nice life.”

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: the words you'd said or the ones you never would again.

You were not built for betrayal.

Not this kind, anyway.

The world felt as if it had been turned upside down. Each breath dragged its weight through your ribs, and your skin burned with the realization, a gnawing, buzzing kind of agony that spread like wildfire.

Suguru had been laughing.

Laughing.

“Come on, don’t look so upset,” he’d said the day before, his honeyed voice sweet with mockery. “You’ve been fun. More fun than I thought you’d be.”

The room had frozen. Everyone had frozen. Satoru, with his cocky grin faltering but still plastered in place. Shoko, lips pressed so tightly they’d gone pale. Even Nanami had avoided your eyes. They all knew.

The truth clawed its way into your mind, carving a jagged wound: you were a bet. An experiment. Entertainment. The words replayed themselves in your head over and over, drilling into the cracks of your soul. More fun than I thought you’d be.

And Suguru had led the charge. The man whose quiet kindness, whose quiet smiles, you’d clung to like a lifeline. Who’d called you “special” in the dim quiet of late-night conversations. Who’d made you feel seen.

It was nothing. You were nothing.

*-*

That night, you hadn’t cried. Tears would’ve been too easy, too human. Instead, you’d locked yourself in your dorm, let the cold silence settle into your bones, and stared at the ceiling until the walls blurred into one endless void.

What had been the point? Of everything? Every joke, every shared drink, every time Suguru had rested his chin on his hand and watched you with that glimmer of something in his dark eyes—what had it all been for?

The cruelest part wasn’t even the lie. It was the tiny seed of hope buried deep in your chest, stubbornly whispering: he didn’t mean it. Not entirely. Maybe they made him do it.

You hated that hope.

Hated it almost as much as you hated Suguru himself.

You couldn’t face them the next day. You hadn’t slept. You barely remembered dragging yourself to a bar off-campus, ordering drink after drink until everything blurred.

You hadn’t even noticed the curse until it was too late.

It was stupid, really. They taught you this in your first year: never wander drunk. Never let your guard down, no matter where you were. But you’d been so hollow, so angry. Maybe some part of you had wanted to stumble onto something. Wanted it to hurt.

The curse had been waiting, a writhing, monstrous thing. You were too slow, too uncoordinated to summon even the faintest spark of your cursed energy.

Its claws ripped through your chest. Its teeth found your neck. And all you could think about, in those last agonizing seconds, was Suguru. His face when he’d laughed. The way his eyes had gleamed with amusement.

You didn’t scream.

*-*

They found your body the next morning.

Shoko identified it first. She didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, just stared at the mangled ruin of what you’d been. Suguru didn’t understand at first—didn’t want to understand.

“Who is it?” His voice was calm, sharp. Detached.

When Shoko turned to him, her expression empty, he knew.

His body moved on its own, shoulders tense, hands trembling. He fell to his knees beside you, eyes wide and unseeing as they traced the jagged edges of torn flesh and drying blood.

It didn’t feel real. You were so…still. So quiet.

Suguru thought about the night before, about your face when he’d laughed, the hurt in your eyes that he’d ignored. A hand pressed against his chest, his cursed energy stuttering with each ragged breath.

“You’re lying,” he whispered. “It’s not her.”

No one answered.

*-*

The funeral was quiet.

Closed casket. Your body too mangled to be seen.

Suguru didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He didn’t do anything, really, except sit and stare at the ground, arms folded tight over his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

Satoru tried to talk to him afterward, but Suguru didn’t hear him. Didn’t hear anything beyond the blood pounding in his ears. You were gone. Gone.

He remembered your laugh. Your voice, soft but steady. The way you’d touched his arm when you thought he wasn’t listening.

The grief hit him in waves. Slow at first, then all at once, crashing over him in an endless tide.

And when it was too much—when the weight of it crushed the air from his lungs—something inside him snapped.

The laughter from that night wouldn’t stop echoing in his head. His laughter.

You’d deserved better than this.

Better than him.

Better than all of them.

That was the day Suguru Geto stopped being human.

The regret ate him alive, twisted and burned inside him until all that was left was rage. At the world. At himself. At everything.

He’d find a way to fix it. To burn it all down and rebuild something where people like you wouldn’t exist just to be broken.

But no matter what he built, he knew one thing:

Your laughter would never fill the silence again.

The room was alive with celebration—the sweet burn of sake, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s inner circle, the murmurs of passing servants. You stepped in, the familiar ache in your chest softened by the sight of him. Sukuna, draped in the loose elegance of his kimono, surrounded by his boisterous companions. His crimson eyes caught yours briefly, and his grin sharpened—wolfish, commanding.

He had always been a man of many faces: a conqueror, a husband, a god in flesh. And yet, for all his unyielding power, you believed there was a version of him that had chosen you. The one who watched you in the quiet mornings with a gaze softer than his cruel reputation allowed. The one who, when alone with you, could almost seem human.

You believed in that man.

Until tonight.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t figured it out yet,” one of the men drawled, drunk on his own amusement.

“Patience,” another snickered. “It’s more fun this way.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but the words fell like stone in your chest.

Figured it out?

The haze of the room blurred. Your hand trembled as you gripped the edge of the screen door. Sukuna’s voice cut through the noise, the resonance of it always unmistakable.

“She’s sharp, though. Too sharp to not catch on soon. You’ve already cost me enough sake with your doubts, Ryota.”

Another bout of laughter.

The world stilled. Your heart was a drumbeat, steady but deafening. Each word he spoke was a dagger slicing through the fabric of your reality.

A bet.

Your knees threatened to buckle as the pieces began falling into place, sharp and unforgiving. The glances exchanged when you entered a room. The veiled smirks. The lingering silence whenever you asked too many questions.

They all knew.

Every. Single. One.

You stepped forward, the warmth of the room no longer reaching you. “What is this?”

The laughter stopped abruptly. Heads turned in your direction. Sukuna, ever the commanding presence, leaned back lazily against the wall, his lips curving into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“Ah, my little wife,” he said, voice like honey over steel. “What brings you here?”

You ignored the question. Your voice was a whisper, sharp as a blade. “What bet?”

The silence was suffocating. Even the drunken fools who moments ago were basking in their audacity now had the decency to look away.

“Tell me,” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice breaking on the edges.

Sukuna tilted his head, as if considering you, weighing whether you deserved the truth.

When he spoke, it was almost casual. “A simple wager, nothing more. They doubted I could make you mine.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t name—amusement? Pride? Indifference? “I proved them wrong.”

The room swayed. You thought you might vomit.

“All of you…” You turned, your gaze sweeping over the room, locking on each face. The betrayal carved deeper with every averted glance. “You all knew.”

No one spoke.

Your breath hitched as you turned back to Sukuna. “You let me believe this was real,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

He rose slowly, deliberately, towering over you as he always did. “Careful, wife,” he said, his tone low, a warning wrapped in silk. “You are in my favor now, but that can change.”

The anger burned bright, but something colder seeped in beneath it. A numbness, hollow and vast.

You stepped back, shoulders straightening, the fire in your eyes extinguished. “Of course, my lord,” you said, bowing your head. “My apologies for the outburst.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “What—”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. With the grace and composure befitting a lady of your station, you turned and walked away.

*-*

The days that followed were excruciating in their monotony. You became a ghost of yourself—a woman of duty, of decorum, of practiced neutrality.

Sukuna, in all his arrogance, thought little of it at first. He smirked when you would rise from a conversation and leave the room upon his arrival. He found amusement in the way your laughter would fall silent the moment his shadow crossed the threshold.

But over time, the smirk faded.

He began to notice the absence of something he hadn’t realized he craved. The warmth of your smile, the brightness in your eyes when you looked at him—it was gone. Replaced by a cold civility that made his jaw tighten and his fists clench.

Servants whispered of the change. You, who had once breathed life into the grand halls of his estate, now walked its corridors like a specter. Even when he tried to corner you, to draw out the spark that had once burned so fiercely, you evaded him with polite indifference.

“Stop,” he growled one evening, grabbing your wrist as you turned to leave the dining room.

You froze, the contact sending a shiver up your spine. Slowly, you turned to face him, your expression unreadable.

“Yes, my lord?”

The words, spoken so softly, so devoid of the fire he had come to expect, made his chest tighten.

“Enough of this,” he snapped, his grip tightening. “Speak your mind.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “There is nothing to say, my lord. I am your wife. I will fulfill my duties as such. Beyond that…” You gently pulled your wrist from his grasp. “There is nothing more.”

It was a lie, of course.

There was anger, still, buried deep within the hollowed-out space where your love for him had once lived. There was pain, sharp and unyielding. There was betrayal, an ache so profound you feared it would consume you if you let it.

But you would not give him the satisfaction of seeing any of it.

And so, you walked away, leaving Sukuna in the silence of his own making.

The house grew colder with every passing day. And though he would never admit it, not even to himself, Sukuna found that he missed the warmth.

*-*

The nights at Sukuna’s estate were long, oppressive, and heavy with silence. It gnawed at him like a dull blade, chipping away at his carefully crafted veneer of control.

He had thought the hunts would help. The thrill of the chase, the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his blade.

But the emptiness followed him, relentless and mocking.

Her absence haunted him. Not in the physical sense—she was still here, still his wife, still dutiful in the way she moved through the estate. But she had become untouchable, locked away behind that maddening neutrality. No matter how he raged, no matter how he tried to provoke her, she gave him nothing.

Sukuna was many things—a tyrant, a god, a king—but patient was not one of them.

So, when the sun dipped low and the moon bathed his estate in its cold light, Sukuna had finally had enough.

*-*

You were in your chambers, the night air cool against your skin as you slipped your arms out of the sleeves of your kimono. The day had been uneventful, like all the others since that night. You had perfected the art of existing without feeling, moving through life as if the pieces of your shattered heart hadn’t left jagged edges that threatened to cut you open from the inside.

You were pulling the fabric down from your shoulders when the door slammed open, the force rattling the delicate wooden frame.

You gasped, clutching your half-discarded kimono to your chest as Sukuna stormed in, his crimson eyes blazing with fury.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, your voice trembling as you scrambled to cover yourself.

He didn’t answer. In an instant, he was on you, his four arms grabbing hold of your shoulders, your waist, your wrists. His grip wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either. It was desperate.

You froze, your mind racing. Was this it? Had your quiet defiance finally pushed him too far?

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He barked out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Kill you? Don’t tempt me, woman.” He shook you, his claws biting lightly into your skin. “What do you want from me? Tell me how to fix this!”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw frustration in his voice. “Fix… this?”

“Yes!” he snarled, his face inches from yours. “I’ll kill them, every last one of those idiots if that’s what you want. I’ll burn this entire estate to the ground if it will bring you back. Just tell me what the hell you want!”

Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions surging through you. Anger, disbelief, a flicker of something you refused to name.

“You think you can just—” your voice cracked, and you shook your head, trying to find the words. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? You made me a game, Sukuna. A bet. Do you know what that feels like? To be nothing more than a joke to the man who swore to protect me?”

His grip faltered for a moment, his gaze searching yours. “You were never a joke,” he said, his voice low, almost quiet.

You laughed bitterly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Not again.”

“I’m not lying,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. I don’t care how it started. I don’t care about those fools and their bets. I care about you.”

The words were a punch to the gut. You wanted to believe him, wanted so desperately to cling to the possibility that this wasn’t all a lie. But the wound was still fresh, and your pride was a shield you weren’t ready to lower.

“If I find out you’ve lied to me again,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute, “I’ll go where you can’t follow. You know where I mean.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Don’t.”

“I mean it,” you said, meeting his gaze with a fire you thought you’d lost. “I’ll end this. I’ll end me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words hanging between you like a blade.

Then, suddenly, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough and demanding, filled with the fury and desperation that had been building between you for weeks. You resisted at first, your hands pushing against his chest, but the dam inside you broke. Your fingers curled into his robes, pulling him closer as you poured every ounce of your anger, your heartbreak, your longing into that kiss.

It was messy and heated, a clash of tongues and teeth and raw emotion. When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged, you could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

“Never again,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm. “I mean it, Sukuna.”

“Never,” he promised, his hands gripping you like you might vanish if he let go.

The tension between you snapped like a bowstring, giving way to something primal and all-consuming. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the futon in the corner of the room. The anger and betrayal still simmered beneath the surface, but for now, it was drowned out by the sheer intensity of your connection.

*-*

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your head resting against his chest, you broke the silence.

“I want them all dead,” you said softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

You tilted your head to look at him, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “You’ll regret this, you know. I’ll never let you live it down.”

His lips curved into a smirk of his own, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And though the wounds between you were far from healed, for the first time in weeks, the room didn’t feel so cold.

It hits like a slap, sudden and cold, pulling the breath right from your lungs.

Choso is staring at you, his eyes wide with that hollow, pitiful look you once thought was endearing. His voice is shaky as he tries to say something, anything, but you can barely hear it over the roar in your ears, the rush of blood pounding in your head. The betrayal tastes bitter in your mouth—sharp, metallic, and sour.

“Y/N, listen to me. It was just—” he starts, but you cut him off, your voice trembling but loud, louder than you ever thought it could be.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, taking a step back from him. Every inch of space between you and him feels like a mile, a chasm too deep to ever cross. “Don’t you dare tell me it was just some stupid bet.”

Choso's eyes flicker with confusion, the subtle tremor in his hands betraying the calm he tries to project. “It’s not— it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

You take a slow, trembling breath, staring at him, trying to ground yourself in the mess of emotions that are tearing you apart. Your mind is a whirlwind, flashes of memories twisting like knives in your chest. The late-night talks, the stolen kisses, the way he’d smile when he thought you weren’t looking. It was all so real, so pure.

But it wasn’t.

Your throat feels tight, your hands trembling at your sides as you finally piece it together. You’d been a bet. A joke, a wager. A way to pass the time. And worse? Everyone you called your friends—everyone you thought you knew, all those warm, intimate moments you shared—knew about it. Knew, and never once told you.

It’s impossible to swallow, the truth. How could they? How could he?

The pieces fall into place with a sickening clarity, sharp shards of realization that lodge deep in your chest. The subtle tension in the air every time you were around them. The way they’d glance at each other when you walked into the room, their smiles too tight. Too practiced.

Your stomach churns, bile rising as your thoughts spiral, the images of them—the rest of the group, the ones you thought had your back—flash before you. Megumi’s quiet looks, Nobara’s silence, Yuji’s forced cheer—they all knew. They all stood by, playing their parts. Feeding you the lies, watching as you fell deeper and deeper into Choso’s world.

Choso. His name tastes like poison now. How could you have been so stupid? So blind?

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but his apology feels like acid against your skin. His hands are outstretched, as if he could reach you, as if he could fix what’s broken. But he can’t. He never could.

“You’re sorry?” The laughter bubbles up in your throat, but it’s not joyful, not even bitter—it’s hollow. Empty. “You’re sorry? Do you even understand what you did, Choso? Do you understand what you all did?”

His lips quiver as he tries to get the words out. “I never wanted it to go this far—”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” Your voice cracks, and it’s like a scream trying to claw its way free. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

Choso’s face contorts, a flash of panic in his eyes as he steps closer to you. “I… I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I hate you now.” You can’t even hear your own words, the weight of them crashing down on you, but it feels so good to say. So cathartic. The relief is sharp and cold as it spreads through you.

“But I love you,” he pleads, his voice breaking. There’s desperation in his eyes now, a frantic need, like he’s begging for you to just… fix it. But there’s no fixing this. Not anymore.

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t you dare tell me you love me when you treated me like a fucking game. How could I ever trust you again?”

Choso’s face twists, the desperation morphing into something darker, almost wounded. “You don’t mean that. Please, Y/N, please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything—just—just don’t walk away.”

But you can’t stop walking. You turn, slowly, not sparing him another glance. Not sparing anyone another glance.

Because they all knew. Every last one of them.

And they didn’t care enough to stop it.

Your footsteps echo in the hollow silence, the air thick with the weight of everything that’s broken, everything that’s ruined. Your chest is tight, the ache in your heart gnawing at you like a thousand tiny daggers. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t feel.

You don’t know how you get home, don’t know how you fall into bed, curling in on yourself, as if the space could swallow you whole and take away all the hurt.

But it doesn’t. The hurt is there, with you, like a ghost haunting your every waking thought.

They all knew.

And it doesn’t matter that they’re sorry now. It doesn’t matter that Choso is sitting in front of your door, his voice trembling through the wood as he calls your name, begging you to open up.

He’s sorry. They’re all sorry.

But it’s too late. Because in the end, you were never the one. You were never anything more than the punchline to a joke you didn’t even know you were part of.

And no amount of sorrys can take that away.

A Bet. A Dare. A Life.

The room is suffocating. You can feel the heat in your chest, in your stomach—rising, boiling. It burns you like the sharpest ache, and you can’t stop the way your breath hitches every time you inhale. This is wrong. Everything is wrong.

You should have never trusted them. Never trusted him.

It started as a harmless fling. That’s what you thought, at least. But when you looked at him, when he looked at you with that grin—so open, so honest—you could’ve sworn that maybe, just maybe, it was something more. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t like the rest of them, the men who flitted through your life with no real intention of staying, their interests as fickle as the seasons.

But Shiu Kong was different. He was soft in his brutal honesty. He was clever, kind in his own way��he made you feel special. That’s what you thought. That’s what you told yourself, over and over again.

And now... now you were nothing more than a joke.

The words come crashing down on you, hitting like a slap to the face. "It was a bet. A dare. You were a dare." Shiu’s voice, like poison, laced with something deeper, something far more disturbing than you ever imagined.

You couldn’t have heard that right. You must be misunderstanding. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours like they always had. But there was something more behind them now. Something that wasn't there before.

“A dare?” you whisper, too stunned to make it louder, though every cell in your body screams for you to scream. To shout. You force your hand to your mouth, to keep it together, to not let it slip.

“Yeah,” he responds with that same nonchalance, the way he always spoke to you—like it was just another casual thing. “Me and the guys? We... we made a bet. Whoever could get you to fall for them, win the challenge.” His gaze flickers to the side, like he’s waiting for something, some kind of reaction.

And that’s when it hits you. Every damn thing that ever felt real, every moment you shared with him, every laugh, every quiet, stolen glance, was just... staged. It wasn’t real.

He was playing you.

Your body goes cold, a chill taking over your skin. You look around the room, your pulse quickening, and there they are—the others. The rest of the group. They’re watching. Watching you. Watching him. Like it’s all some cruel game, and you’re the only one who didn’t get the memo.

How long? How long did they know? How long had they watched you stumble, watched you let yourself believe in a lie, and said nothing?

You hate them. You fucking hate them.

"Is this... is this what you wanted?" You can feel the venom in your voice, feel the anger pouring out of you like a slow burn. "You all knew, didn’t you? You knew and said nothing. You watched me fall for him, for you, and said nothing. You watched me trust you—trust all of you—and did nothing."

A heavy silence falls. Not a single one of them meets your gaze.

Shiu’s fingers twitch at his side, like he wants to say something, but he’s scared to move. You know him. You know him well enough to see that hesitation. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t care.

"You," you sneer at him, your hands shaking now, trembling with a fury that makes it hard to stay upright. "You were the one I trusted the most. You were supposed to be different."

You feel a lump in your throat, that sickening ache of betrayal tightening like a noose. “You used me.” The words feel like knives. “You all used me.”

His eyes darken even further, but he doesn’t speak. Not even when you let the words break out, shattering the calm, composed mask you’d tried to wear for so long.

“What is it?” You laugh, bitterly. “What’s so special about me, huh? Was I just a joke to you?” Your voice cracks, but you can’t stop it. You don’t want to stop. “Was this all just a fucking joke?!”

“Y/N,” Shiu finally speaks, and his voice cracks too. You can hear the guilt in it, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

“Don’t you dare try to make this sound like it’s anything other than what it is. You used me. You all used me. All for a damn bet.” The words taste like acid on your tongue. “You made me feel like... like I mattered. You made me feel like you cared. And for what? So you could laugh at me behind my back?"

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. The room spins.

But the most painful thing? The one thing that breaks you all over again, deeper than the betrayal, deeper than the lies, is the way Shiu won’t let you leave.

You know what he’s doing before he even takes a step forward. He’s blocking the door. Like a lion protecting its kill, but you’re not his prey.

You back away, your breath quickening. “Let me out.”

“No,” he says, his voice so quiet now, so broken that it almost makes you want to tear your ears off. “I won’t let you go.”

You stare at him, the desperation in his eyes more than you can bear. “What did you think would happen, Shiu? You think I’m just going to let you walk away with this? You think you can keep me here? Like I’m some... some thing you can possess? You’re out of your mind.”

He steps closer, and you want to push him away, scream, break down, but you won’t. Not now. Not ever.

But he’s already reached for you. His fingers brush your arm, and you shudder, your body recoiling from the contact.

“I didn’t want it to go like this.” His voice cracks again, quieter. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

“You already did.” Your chest tightens, the words coming out as a whisper, as soft and broken as you feel. “You already did.”

You should walk away. You should turn around, tear through the door, never look back. But your feet won’t move. Not now. Not anymore. Because somehow, you’re still here.

You feel the weight of it. Every word. Every lie. It settles on your chest like an unbearable pressure, and you wonder—if you had known, would you have walked away? Would you have let them all slip through your fingers before they did this to you?

You don’t know.

But you do know one thing for sure.

You are done.

It wasn’t just that Hiruguma had lied to you.

It wasn’t just that you had been deceived, manipulated, and toyed with for weeks. It was the realization that every single person you trusted—your friends, the people you leaned on, the ones you thought had your back—had known about it. They all knew about the bet.

The words echoed in your mind, ringing like a bell of betrayal.

“I was dared to date you.”

You stared at him, still trying to process what he had just confessed. Hiruguma stood there in front of you, hands clenched by his sides, gaze trained downward, avoiding yours. There was no defensiveness, no pride in his eyes—just guilt, guilt that sank deep into the pit of his stomach.

There was nothing in his face but honesty, and yet that was the one thing that made you feel even more sick.

"You’re telling me," you whispered, a venomous laugh escaping from your throat, "that you were a bet? That everything we’ve done... that everything I’ve felt... was just some joke to you?"

Hiruguma swallowed hard, his throat constricting at your words. His voice was soft but steady when he answered. "I was dared. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. I didn’t think I would. But… I did. It became real."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but it made your skin crawl. It felt like nails on a chalkboard.

A part of you, somewhere deep inside, wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that maybe this wasn’t all just some sick joke. That maybe he hadn’t done it because of the dare. That maybe, somehow, this could still work. But the other part of you, the part that still couldn’t breathe properly, the part that felt like you were drowning in an ocean of betrayal, knew better.

You’ve been played.

You clutched the hem of your shirt, fighting the tears that had already started to well up in your eyes. You had to hold it together—just a little longer. You didn’t want him to see how much he’d hurt you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deep the knife had cut. But as the anger and betrayal boiled up inside you, the words started pouring out before you could stop them.

“Are you kidding me? And what about them?” You gestured violently toward the group of friends that had always been around you—Yuji, Megumi, Nobara. You couldn’t even look at them now. “They all knew, didn’t they?”

Hiruguma’s silence said everything. He didn’t need to speak; his lowered eyes were enough to confirm what you already knew. The rest of the group had kept it from you. They all knew. They all watched. They all let you fall for this, and they did nothing.

They’re complicit.

They lied to you, too.

"Why?!" Your voice cracked. "Why would they do this? Why would you do this to me?"

You could feel the tears beginning to fall despite your best efforts to hold them back. But no matter how hard you tried, they came, and soon enough you couldn’t breathe properly. It was the worst feeling in the world—the overwhelming sensation of being so utterly deceived that you couldn’t even trust your own mind anymore.

Hiruguma stepped closer, but you backed away instinctively, your chest tightening. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to make you feel this way,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I’ve always wanted you. I wanted to be with you... not because of a dare, but because I—"

“Shut up!" You snapped, your voice harsh, sharp. "Don’t you dare make this about you now. Don’t you dare."

His shoulders slumped, and his face contorted with remorse. He looked like he was physically crumbling, but it did nothing for you. All you could feel was the weight of the betrayal, pushing you deeper into the ground with every breath.

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back the floodgates. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when everything about him felt like a lie. Your thoughts were a mess—a tornado of anger, hurt, confusion, and disbelief. It felt like everything you had been living was ripped away in a single moment.

"You should’ve just left," you muttered bitterly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "You should’ve told me the truth from the start. Then maybe I wouldn’t have—" You paused, your voice breaking before you could say it. "Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for you."

Hiruguma looked stricken, his face pale. He stepped forward again, but you didn’t budge. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to be closer or farther away. His presence was a paradox now—both a comfort and a source of pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything," he whispered. "But I swear, this... the bet—it doesn’t matter anymore. I want you. I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry for that. I’ll do anything... anything to make it right.”

You could feel him watching you, could feel his eyes on you like a weight that wouldn’t lift. But you couldn’t face him—not now. Not when everything you thought you knew had been shattered. Your thoughts screamed for clarity, but all you could do was stand there, numb, overwhelmed by the quiet ache in your chest. The emptiness where love once lived.

“You can’t just take back what you did,” you finally whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “You can’t just undo all the lies. All the people who knew—who watched me fall and did nothing.”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately looked to the others, your friends, who had been standing off to the side, lingering like ghosts in the background. “I know,” he said, voice low and broken. “I know they were wrong, too. They should have told you. I should’ve told you.”

You wiped your face again, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I need time. I need space," you said, a trembling note in your voice. You were shaking all over, your emotions a storm you couldn’t control.

But deep down, as much as it hurt, as much as you hated everything that had happened, there was a part of you—small, fragile—that couldn’t completely let go. Not yet. Not when everything had been so real between you. Not when the love you felt for him had meant something, had been real for you.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you closed your eyes, taking in a shaky breath.

“No,” you said after a long pause, finally looking up at him with wet eyes. “I don’t want you to leave. But we... we have to start over. From scratch. Like we’ve never met before. If we’re going to do this, it has to be all the way. No lies. No more games.”

His expression softened, and there was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t relief, not exactly. But it was an acknowledgment. A silent promise.

"I swear. No more games," he said, his voice steady and firm. "I’ll do whatever it takes. No more bets. Just us."

And with that, the first fragile seed of hope began to take root inside you, despite everything. You weren’t sure how long it would take for things to heal, or even if they would—but for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something real to begin.

A/N: this was wayyyyy too long, anyways yuhhh, i loved writing this! Thank you to the lovely anon who requested, i mean it, thank you to every anon who's sent me requests, y'all are too cute

Masterlist.

:)

[jupiterpilgrim]

A+ Affair

Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 11K

[commissioned fic]

The clock on your phone reads five minutes past the hour, and you’re already muttering under your breath as you jog down the hallway, adjusting your messenger bag over one shoulder. Of course, the one time you get assigned a one-on-one consultancy, you’re late. It’s not even your fault—you’d spent the last hour drowning in administrative work, filing reports no one was likely to read, all while wondering why someone thought a graduate student with no actual teaching experience would be the perfect fit to guide an undergrad. But here you are, running behind and feeling grossly underprepared.

When you finally reach the office, your hand hovers over the door handle as you suck in a breath, trying to pull yourself together. You’re supposed to look like you know what you’re doing. Confidence, right? Even if your experience as a teaching assistant has mostly involved stapling worksheets and running occasional errands. This is different—real academic guidance. A chance to prove yourself.

You push open the door, already apologizing before you’ve even looked up.

“Sorry, sorry, I lost track of time—oh.”

Your words catch, and you blink once, twice, to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you.

She’s sitting sideways in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, her fingers lazily scrolling through her phone like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her hair gleams under the fluorescent lighting, every strand impossibly perfect, cascading over her shoulders. She’s wearing a bright, skintight top that clings to her frame, paired with a skirt so short you almost feel scandalized just looking at it. Her legs are bare, crossed just enough to hide anything too revealing, but her thighs look smooth and soft, the kind of thighs that command attention. Her lips—God, her lips are plump, painted in a glossy pink that makes them impossible to ignore.

She doesn’t even notice you’re there.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to proceed. The room feels smaller somehow, warmer, even though she hasn’t looked up from her phone. You straighten your back, pull your bag strap tighter over your shoulder, and clear your throat.

“Uh, hi. I’m, uh—” You stop, mentally berating yourself for sounding like a nervous freshman on their first day. You start again, your voice steadier. “Hi. I’m your teaching assistant, and I’ll be helping you with your exam prep.”

That gets her attention. She looks up, her lips curving into a slow smile as she sets her phone on the desk.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t see you come in.” Her voice is casual, breezy, like she’s greeting an old friend instead of her academic consultant.

“Right. Uh, sorry about being late. That’s on me.” You glance at the desk, trying to focus on the papers and not the way her eyes seem to linger on you for just a moment too long. “Let’s get started.”

“No worries.” She leans back in her chair, her posture relaxed, one leg bouncing slightly as if the whole situation is no big deal to her. “I’m Yunjin, by the way. But I guess you already knew that.”

You nod, forcing yourself to keep your tone professional. “Yeah, I reviewed your file. I'm here to help you prepare for the upcoming exam.”

“Sure, sure. Honestly, I’m just here ‘cause they said I had to be. You know how it is.”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Your grades suggest you might need more than just attendance to pass this exam. I was involved in developing the questions and the material isn’t exactly light.”

Her smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a glint of something playful in her eyes now, like she’s toying with you. “You don’t have to give me the hard sell, professor.” She says it with a teasing lilt, like she knows exactly how much the title doesn’t fit you. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stiffen slightly, trying not to let her casual attitude get under your skin. “I’m not a professor, but I take this seriously, and you should too. Business isn’t a subject you can bluff your way through.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” she murmurs, tilting her head as she watches you. Her gaze is uncomfortably direct, like she’s sizing you up. “A lot of it’s just networking, right? Who you know, how you present yourself. Pretty sure I’ve got that part down.”

You don’t respond immediately, your focus shifting to the materials in your bag. Her attitude is frustrating, but you remind yourself this is your job—to help, even if the student in question doesn’t seem particularly interested in being helped. You pull out a stack of notes and a syllabus, spreading them on the desk between you.

“All right,” you say, adopting a firmer tone. “This is the outline of what we’ll be covering. We’ll start with foundational concepts—market analysis, competitive strategy—and work our way up to application-based scenarios.”

She picks up one of the papers, glancing at it briefly before setting it back down. “Sounds… riveting,” she says dryly, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “You really love this stuff, huh?”

“It’s important,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral. “And it’ll be on the exam, so—”

“Relax,” she interrupts, leaning forward slightly. Her top shifts just enough to reveal a hint of lace beneath, a flash of black that’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll pass. I always do.”

You don’t let your gaze linger, but your pulse quickens despite yourself. You force yourself to look at her face, to keep your tone professional. “I'm not here to magically make you pass. The goal is understanding the material. Mastering it.”

“Right,” she says, drawing out the word like she’s indulging you. She rests her chin on her hand, her gaze never leaving yours. “So, how old are you anyway? You don’t look much older than me.”

The question catches you off guard, you hesitate, but tell her your age.

“See?” She grins, leaning back again. “We’re practically the same age. Makes it easier to talk, don’t you think?”

You clear your throat, glancing at the clock. “We should get started. The sooner we dive into the material, the more ground we can cover.”

She shrugs, her smile never fading. “Whatever you say, prof. Lead the way.”

You try to ignore the way she’s looking at you, the playful edge in her tone.

The first ten minutes of the session feel like pulling teeth. You dive into market segmentation with the kind of energy you hope comes off as confident and not desperate. But Yunjin doesn’t seem remotely interested. She’s sprawled out in her chair, phone in hand, her fingers flying across the screen as if this is just a brief interlude in her far more important day.

“So, breaking down a market into segments allows businesses to—”

“Hold up,” she interrupts, barely looking up. “I just need to reply to this real quick.”

Your jaw tightens, but you take a breath, forcing patience. “Yunjin, we only have an hour. The more you focus, the more we can cover.”

“This is focusing,” she says, glancing up with a grin that’s as unapologetic as it is infuriating. “Social media is huge for business. You know that, right? I’ve got to stay active. Engagement is everything.”

You fold your arms, trying to keep your expression neutral. “I don’t think Instagram is going to help you pass your exam.”

“Not Instagram,” she says, her tone lightly mocking. “TikTok. Way bigger reach. I have, like, a hundred thousand followers, by the way. Do you follow me?”

“I don’t have TikTok,” you reply, too quickly.

She raises an eyebrow, like she doesn’t quite believe you. “Seriously? You’re missing out. I bet you’d love my stuff.” She leans forward, flipping her phone around to show you her profile. The screen lights up with videos of her dancing, lip-syncing, or simply posing in various trendy outfits. Her most recent one is captioned ‘CEO vibes only 💼✨’, and she’s twirling in what you think is supposed to be business attire, though it’s as tight and revealing as the clothes she is wearing now.

“That’s… impressive,” you say cautiously, unsure what else to offer.

“Right?” She beams, clearly pleased with herself. “This kind of thing is my future. Marketing, personal branding, the whole package.”

“That’s great, but right now, we’re focusing on your coursework. Market segmentation—”

“Oh, my God, you sound like a textbook,” she says with a laugh, leaning back again. Her skirt rides up just a little higher, and you force yourself to look at your notes instead. “Loosen up, professor. Ever heard of a work-life balance?”

“I’m not a professor,” you mutter under your breath, flipping through the syllabus for the next point.

She doesn’t hear you—or pretends not to. Instead, she picks up her phone again, her attention already elsewhere. You press your lips into a thin line, determined to steer the session back on track.

“All right,” you say, keeping your voice firm. “Let’s try a practical example. Imagine you’re launching a new product. How would you identify your target market?”

She hums thoughtfully, but her focus stays on her phone. “Depends. Am I selling something cute? Sexy? Or, like, functional?”

“Something practical,” you say, trying to engage her. “Let’s say a new line of eco-friendly water bottles.”

She finally looks up, her brow furrowing slightly. “Boring. Can’t we do, like, makeup or clothes or something?”

“Fine,” you relent. “A new line of cosmetics.”

“Now we’re talking.” She sits up straighter, crossing her legs. The movement draws your attention for half a second too long, your eyes flickering to her thighs before you realize what you’re doing. You snap your gaze back to the syllabus, your heart thudding in your chest.

But it’s too late.

“You looking at something, professor?” she teases, her voice light, almost singsong.

You glance up, heat flooding your face. She’s smirking now, her lips curving in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“I was just—” You scramble for an excuse, but she cuts you off.

“It’s fine,” she says, leaning her chin on her hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You don’t have to be so uptight, you know. We’re both adults here.”

You clear your throat, determined to move past the moment. “Let’s stay on topic. Target markets. Who’s buying your cosmetics?”

She shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Everyone. Duh.”

“That’s too broad,” you counter, grateful for the distraction. “You need to narrow it down. Focus on specific demographics.”

“Okay, fine.” She pretends to think for a moment, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Women in their twenties, I guess. Maybe teens, if it’s affordable. Oh, and influencers, obviously.”

“Good,” you say, nodding. “And how do you reach them?”

“Social media,” she says instantly, her confidence returning. “Instagram, TikTok, YouTube—wherever they’re scrolling.”

“Exactly,” you say, hoping to keep the momentum going. “And what about pricing strategy?”

“Cheap enough to buy, but expensive enough to look fancy,” she says, her lips quirking into a grin. “See? I’m not totally clueless.”

You can’t help but smile, despite yourself. “No, you’re not. But there’s still a lot to cover, and the clock’s ticking.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” she says, though her tone is far from urgent. She picks up her phone again, glancing at the screen before setting it back down with a sigh. “Okay, professor. Teach me.”

You shake your head, already bracing for the next distraction. This session is going to test every ounce of your patience.

—

Your bachelor apartment is the definition of bare-bones living. A twin bed shoved against one wall, a battered desk holding your overworked laptop, a couple of mismatched chairs around a table that’s seen better days. The faint hum of traffic from the campus filters through the window you’ve cracked open to keep the place from feeling too stuffy. You kick your shoes off, tossing your bag onto the floor with a weary sigh. It’s been one of those days—endless errands, an exhausting afternoon of pretending you’re more qualified than you are, and, of course, Yunjin.

She’s been stuck in your head since you left the office. Not intentionally—God, no. But something about her lingers. Maybe it’s the way she never takes anything seriously, or the way she seems so effortlessly self-assured. Like nothing in the world could possibly rattle her. It’s frustrating and impressive all at once.

You collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Yunjin. You know her type, the popular girls who glide through life on charm and good looks, who never have to try as hard as everyone else because people are just drawn to them. You’ve met girls like her before—confident, flirty, always with one eye on their phone. She’s not stupid, though. That much is clear. If anything, she’s sharp in a way that’s hard to pin down. She knows how to navigate people, situations. She knows exactly how much effort to put in to get what she wants and no more.

Your phone buzzes on the bedside table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pick it up, scrolling aimlessly through emails, notifications, news articles—anything to distract yourself. But your mind keeps circling back. What was it she said earlier? About TikTok?

Before you can second-guess yourself, your fingers are typing the app into the search bar, downloading it in seconds. The interface is unfamiliar at first, a stream of random videos you don’t care about flashing across the screen. But it doesn’t take long to find her.

There she is. Yunjin.__official. The profile picture is exactly what you’d expect—her smiling, hair perfect, lips glossy. Her bio reads: Business student | DM for collabs. She has over a hundred thousand followers.

Your thumb hovers for a moment before you tap on her profile. The screen fills with a grid of her videos, each one a window into her carefully curated world. You tell yourself it’s just curiosity, harmless research. Nothing more.

The first video you watch is one of her dancing in her room, the camera propped up to capture every move. She’s good, you realize, her body moving fluidly, every motion precise and confident. She’s wearing workout gear—tight leggings, a cropped top—and the way the fabric clings to her curves is impossible to ignore.

You swipe to the next video. This one’s more playful, her lip-syncing to some trending audio while twirling in a skirt that flares out with every spin. The lighting is perfect, her makeup flawless, her smile dazzling.

Another video. This time she’s at a party, surrounded by friends, laughing and holding up a cocktail. The camera focuses on her as she leans in close, her expression mischievous, like she’s sharing a secret with the viewer.

You watch another. Then another.

Each one is different, but they all share the same energy—bright, vibrant, captivating. It’s no wonder she’s amassed such a following. She knows exactly how to play to the camera, how to draw people in.

Your gaze lingers a little too long on one video where she’s wearing a bikini, lounging by a pool. Her legs stretch out, her skin glistening in the sunlight. She flips her hair back, laughing at something offscreen, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

You snap your phone shut like it’s burned you, your heart pounding. What the hell are you doing?

This is stupid. It’s late, and you’re tired, and wasting time on a student’s TikTok profile isn’t just unprofessional—it’s downright pathetic. You toss your phone onto the bedside table, rolling onto your back and running a hand over your face.

Your apartment is too quiet now, the silence pressing down on you. You close your eyes, willing yourself to think of something else. Anything else.

It takes longer than it should, but eventually, sleep claims you.

—

The next meeting starts much the same as the last—her sitting in the chair like she owns the room, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through her phone with that same carefree attitude. You, on the other hand, feel like a bundle of nerves disguised as authority. But this time, you’ve come prepared.

“Hey, professor,” she says without looking up, her voice dripping with casual familiarity.

You close the door behind you, shaking your head. “Still not a professor.”

She grins, finally putting her phone face-down on the desk. “What’s up? Ready for another thrilling lecture?”

“I hope you’re ready,” you reply, pulling out a folder and setting it on the desk between you. “Did you study the material we went over last time?”

“Of course,” she says, all bright confidence. “I’m a great multitasker. I was studying while managing my social media. Killed two birds with one stone.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, not buying it for a second. “Right. Let’s see how much of it stuck.”

She raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You pull out a single-page worksheet, sliding it across the desk toward her. “It means I put together a quick assignment to see where you’re at. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes if you really studied.”

The grin drops from her face, replaced by a look of mock outrage. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

She picks up the sheet, scanning it quickly. “This looks like… work. Like actual work.”

“That’s because it is.” You cross your arms, leaning against the desk. “If you want to pass the exam, you need to prove you understand the material. And this is a good way to do that.”

“Ugh, you’re such a hardass,” she groans, slumping back in her chair dramatically.

You bite back a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She sets the sheet down, giving you a long, appraising look. “You really aren’t gonna let me off the hook, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Not even if I—” She stops, her lips curving into a sly smile as if she’s considering something. But then she shrugs, brushing it off. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good.” You hand her a pen, feeling a small sense of victory.

She takes it with a sigh, tapping the end against the desk as she glances at the first question. “This is such a buzzkill, you know that? You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpan, pulling out your own notes to review while she works.

For the next few minutes, the room is quiet except for the scratch of her pen against the paper. You glance up occasionally, trying to gauge her progress. She looks focused enough—her brows furrowed slightly, lips pursed in concentration—but there’s still a glint of mischief in her eyes whenever she glances your way.

After about ten minutes, she sets the pen down with a flourish. “Done. Happy now?”

“Let’s find out.” You pick up the sheet, scanning her answers. They’re… not terrible. A little rushed, a little surface-level, but not the disaster you were expecting.

“Well?” she prompts, leaning her chin on her hand. “Did I pass the pop quiz?”

“You did… okay,” you admit. “There’s room for improvement, but it’s a start.”

She beams, like you just handed her an A. “See? Told you I was a multitasking queen.”

You roll your eyes, setting the sheet down. “This isn’t about just getting by, Yunjin. If you actually put in the effort, you could do really well in this course. Maybe even excel.”

“Mm, but where’s the fun in that?” she teases, her tone light but her gaze sharper than usual. “You’re so serious all the time. Don’t you ever just… I don’t know, relax?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply, sidestepping the question. “This is about you passing your exam.”

She leans back, her smile widening. “You’re really committed to this whole responsible TA thing, huh? It’s kind of cute.”

You stiffen slightly at the word, but she doesn’t give you time to respond.

“Don’t worry,” she adds, grabbing her phone and flipping it over in her hands. “Like I said: I’ll pass. I always do.”

You let out a breath, half-exasperated, half-resigned. “You can’t just coast through everything, Yunjin.”

“Why not?” she asks, her tone light but her gaze steady. “It’s been working pretty well so far.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. For a moment, it feels like she’s challenging you, testing you, waiting to see how far you’ll push back.

You clear your throat, breaking the tension. “Next time, we’ll cover case studies. Real-world applications.”

She laughs, standing and stretching lazily. “Sure thing, professor. Can’t wait.”

As she walks out, phone already in hand, you sigh in relief that this session is over.

—

The apartment feels particularly quiet tonight, the faint hum of your desk lamp filling the space as you sift through a mountain of notes and research papers. It’s Friday, but for you, that doesn’t mean a night out or some kind of social escapade. It means working on your thesis, chipping away at the endless grind that defines grad school life. A cup of lukewarm coffee sits forgotten by your elbow, the words on the page starting to blur together.

Your phone buzzes against the table, a sudden break in the monotony. You glance at the screen, expecting some automated notification or maybe a text from one of your few friends. Instead, it’s from Yunjin.

Hey, I need your opinion on something.

You blink at the message, confused. It’s late—too late for anything academic, and even if it weren’t, why would she need your opinion? You tap out a quick reply, keeping it neutral.

I think you sent this to the wrong person.

Her response comes almost immediately.

Nope. It’s for you. You’re my TA, right? You’re supposed to help me with stuff.

You frown, staring at the screen. This has nothing to do with schoolwork. You type back, trying to keep your tone professional.

My number is for college purposes only. If you have a question about the material, we can go over it during our next session.

But she’s not backing down.

This is important. What should I wear to a party?

Before you can even think of how to respond, a picture pops up in the chat.

It’s her, of course. She’s standing in front of a mirror, holding her phone up to capture the shot. She’s wearing a tight, shimmery silver dress that clings to her body, hugging her curves in a way that makes it impossible to look away. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, and the slit in the dress shows off one of her legs, long and toned.

Your mouth goes dry, and you look away from the screen, as if that might undo the fact that you’ve seen it. Another buzz.

Or this one?

You glance back despite yourself. The next picture shows her in a cropped black top and a leather mini skirt, her midriff on full display. Her lips are slightly parted in the photo, her eyes half-lidded, like she’s halfway into the party already.

You sit back in your chair, running a hand over your face. What the hell is she doing? This is completely inappropriate. You’re her teaching assistant, not her personal stylist. You type out another reply, this one more curt.

Yunjin, this isn’t appropriate. My role is strictly academic. I can’t help you with this.

But she’s relentless.

Relax, it’s no big deal. Just tell me which one’s better. It’s not like I’m asking you to come to the party.

Your phone buzzes again. A third picture.

This time, she’s in a red dress that’s somehow even more daring than the others. The neckline plunges low, the hemline barely brushing her thighs. She’s biting her lip in this one, a playful glint in her eyes that makes your stomach twist.

You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. You’re not going to get dragged into whatever game she’s playing. You reply quickly, keeping your tone as detached as possible.

The black one is fine. Have fun.

Her response comes almost instantly.

I knew you’d like that one 😏

You exhale sharply, annoyed at yourself for even engaging with this. Your hands hover over the keyboard, trying to think of a way to end this conversation. But before you can, another message pops up.

I already miss our fun study sessions, you know. You’re so serious all the time—it’s cute.

You grip your phone tightly, trying to keep your temper in check. She’s toying with you, that much is obvious. You remind yourself she’s just a student—an infuriating, distracting student who doesn’t seem to understand boundaries.

Don’t party too hard. And remember to study.

Her reply is quick, as if she’s been waiting for it.

You’re such a buzzkill, professor. See you next week 😘

You set your phone down, staring at it like it might explode. Things are only getting worse, and you fear what's yet to come.

—

The moment you step into the office, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of Yunjin lounging in her chair like she’s waiting for a casual coffee date, not an academic session. Today, her outfit is as striking as ever—a snug, low-cut blouse paired with a skirt that rides just high enough to make you uncomfortable. She’s scrolling through her phone, as always, her attention miles away from the materials you’ve prepared.

“Good afternoon,” you say, trying to inject some authority into your tone as you set your bag down on the desk.

She glances up briefly, flashing you that disarming smile. “Hey, professor.”

“Not a professor,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Ready to get started?”

“Always,” she replies, but the way she lazily props her chin on her hand suggests otherwise.

You pull out the case study you’ve prepared, laying out the printed pages in front of you. “Today, we’re focusing on real-world applications. Case studies are a key part of the exam, so—”

Her phone buzzes, and she glances down, her fingers flying across the screen as she types out a reply. You stop mid-sentence, your patience already wearing thin.

“Yunjin,” you say sharply, and her eyes flick up to meet yours, wide and innocent.

“What? I’m listening.”

“No, you’re not. You’re on your phone. Again.”

She smirks, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, okay, you caught me. But in my defense, multitasking is a valuable skill in business, right?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling slowly. “You need to focus. This material is important, and if you don’t take it seriously, you’re going to fail.”

She pouts, tilting her head to the side. “Maybe it’s just hard to focus because you’re way over there. Don’t you think it’d be easier if you sat next to me?”

You hesitate, eyeing the empty chair beside her. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you—half-teasing, half-challenging—that makes your skin prickle. But you can’t think of a valid excuse to say no, so with a resigned sigh, you pick up your notes and move to the seat beside her.

“Happy now?” you ask, your tone clipped.

“Much,” she says, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

You try to steer the session back on track, pointing to the first section of the case study. “This example looks at how a small business expanded its market share by identifying underserved demographics—”

“Do I make you nervous?” she interrupts, her voice low and almost playful.

You freeze for a split second, caught off guard. “What?”

She leans in slightly, her hair brushing her shoulder as she studies you with an amused glint in her eyes. “You seem a little tense. Like I’m throwing you off your game.”

“I’m not nervous,” you reply stiffly, focusing on the papers in front of you.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, clearly unconvinced. Her hand shifts on the table, and for a moment, her fingers brush against yours—light, fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through you.

You pull your hand back, pretending to adjust the papers. “Can we focus, please?”

“I am focused,” she says, feigning innocence. “But you’re not making it easy. Maybe if you loosened up a little—”

“Yunjin,” you cut her off, your tone sharper than you intended. “This isn’t a game. Either you take this seriously, or we’re wasting both our time.”

She blinks at you, her lips parting in mock surprise. “Wow, look at you, laying down the law. That’s kind of hot.”

You ignore the comment, flipping to the next section of the case study. “This part covers the importance of pricing strategy in competitive markets. I want you to read through it and summarize the key points.”

“Ugh, homework, really?” she groans, slumping in her chair.

“It’s not homework. It’s research,” you correct. “I expect you to come back with a full summary by—”

“Can’t I have, like, a week?” she interrupts, her tone dripping with exaggerated pleading.

“No,” you say firmly. “Three days.”

“Three days? Are you serious?”

“Yes. And if you keep complaining, I’ll make it two.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s a spark of amusement behind the irritation. “You’re ruthless, professor.”

“Not a professor,” you mutter again, gathering your things. “And I’m serious about the deadline. If you want to pass, you need to put in the effort.”

She sighs dramatically, but there’s a playful edge to it. “Fine. You win. Three days.”

“Good. We can end it here. Use your free time to start your research.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll see you at the next session.”

“Can’t wait,” she says, her smile lingering as you walk to the door.

—

The apartment feels like a safe haven when you finally stumble inside, just tipsy enough to make your head feel light but not so much that you’re completely out of it. The air smells faintly of leftover takeout and stale coffee, the way it always does after a long week. Your shoes hit the floor near the door, and you don’t bother picking them up. Instead, you head straight for the couch, collapsing with a heavy sigh.

You needed that night out—needed the drinks, the music, the laughter with friends. It wasn’t anything wild; just a low-key bar near campus, a few rounds of beer, and some half-baked attempts at catching up with everyone’s lives. But it was still more social interaction than you’d had in weeks. Between your own academic deadlines and the increasingly complicated ordeal of tutoring Yunjin, you’d been feeling stretched thin.

Yunjin. Of course, she slips into your thoughts now, the alcohol softening the usual mental barriers you keep firmly in place. She’s been a handful—distracting, playful, unpredictable. And yet, despite every attempt to keep things professional, you can’t stop thinking about her.

Reaching for your phone, you unlock it almost without realizing, falling into the familiar trap of social media scrolling. You tell yourself you’re just unwinding, but before long, you’re typing her name into the TikTok search bar.

Her profile lights up the screen, her most recent video already autoplaying. It’s her dancing again, this time in a sleek black dress that hugs her figure in all the right places. She moves effortlessly to the beat, her smile teasing, her gaze aimed directly at the camera. She looks… stunning.

You swipe to the next video, then the next, each one somehow more captivating than the last. It’s like she knows exactly how to grab attention, how to hold it. Your head feels warm, your thoughts fuzzy as you watch her, your focus narrowing down to just her.

When you finally snap out of it, guilt crashes over you like a wave. What the hell are you doing? You close the app, shaking your head, but the image of her lingers, burned into your mind.

Maybe something else will clear your head. You open Instagram, her profile is the first suggestion, she's posted new stories, but you don't dare watch them. You refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing you're checking up on her. So, you settle for mindlessly scrolling through her feed, trying not to linger on any one post for too long, until you remember Twitter—X, as you don't like to call it.

The one platform you still use regularly. You tell yourself it’s just to check the news or see what your friends are up to, but before you know it, you’re scrolling through Yunjin’s tweets.

“Some guys are so oblivious it’s cute 🙄💖”

Your heart skips a beat. You scroll down, only to find more.

“It’s kind of cute, though. Watching him pretend he’s not into me. Playing hard to get? Or just clueless?”

Another tweet.

“Bet he’s thinking about me right now. ;)”

You swallow hard, your thumb hovering over the screen. Is she… talking about you? No, that’s ridiculous. She’s a student. You’re her TA. But the way she’s been acting—the teasing, the flirting, the way she always seems to have you off-balance—it’s hard not to wonder. Still, you tell yourself it’s just a coincidence. There’s no way she’s—

And then it happens. Your thumb slips, tapping the heart icon before you even realize what you’ve done.

“Shit,” you mutter, staring at the bright red heart like it’s mocking you. Your pulse spikes as you fumble to undo it, the screen blurring for a second as you scramble to fix your mistake. You tap the heart again, the red disappearing, but the damage is done. But has she already seen it? Does Twitter even notify people that fast? Your heart is pounding, your brain racing through worst-case scenarios.

You toss your phone onto the couch, running a hand through your hair. Maybe she didn’t notice. Maybe she’s busy. Maybe, for once, luck will be on your side.

But as you sit there, the room spinning slightly, the thought nags at you. What if she knows? What if this is exactly the kind of confirmation she’s been waiting for?

The alcohol isn’t helping. It’s making everything feel bigger, heavier, more immediate. You grab your phone again, staring at the screen like it might offer you answers. But there’s nothing. No notifications, no messages.

You drop your head into your hands, groaning softly. You’re not helping yourself in this situation.

—

The door feels heavier than usual as you push it open, the familiar office waiting for you inside. You’re gripping your bag tightly, trying to shake off the nerves that have been building since last night. The tweets, the like, the un-like—it’s been on your mind nonstop. But you keep telling yourself she didn’t notice. She couldn’t have.

The air is warmer today, and as usual, Yunjin is already seated, legs crossed, phone in hand. She’s wearing a fitted blouse with the top buttons undone and a pleated skirt that rides high on her thighs, her usual flair for turning any setting into her personal stage.

“Good afternoon,” you say, your voice coming out strained despite your best effort to sound composed.

“Hey, professor,” she greets, glancing up with a lazy smile before setting her phone down. “Oh, wait. Not a professor. Just my very dedicated teaching assistant.”

You ignore the tease, sitting at your usual spot across the table. “I assume you’ve brought the research I asked for?”

Her expression shifts, and she gives you a sheepish smile, leaning back in her chair. “About that…”

“Yunjin. Don’t tell me—”

“I didn’t finish it,” she says quickly, holding up her hands as if to ward off your reaction. “The deadline was so short! And I had other stuff going on. It’s not like I didn’t try—I just couldn’t get it done in time.”

You lean back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You promised to take this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously,” she insists, though her tone is more casual than apologetic. “It’s just… you didn’t give me much time.”

“That’s because this is supposed to be a priority,” you snap, unable to hide your frustration.

She pouts slightly, leaning forward. “Look, I’ll finish it. I’ll email it to you later tonight. Then we can talk about it during the next session. Deal?”

You exhale sharply, clearly irritated, but you nod. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to waste today.”

“Thanks, professor,” she says, her smile returning, bright and unbothered.

You pull out her last exam, sliding it across the table. “Let’s go over this instead. Your answers weren’t terrible, but they were surface-level. You’re missing depth, and that’s going to hurt you in the final.”

She groans softly but leans forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Okay, fine. Teach me.”

As you begin reviewing her answers, pointing out areas for improvement, she suddenly interrupts. “Can you sit next to me? It’s easier to see the paper that way.”

You hesitate for a moment before moving to the chair beside her, trying not to overthink it. She scoots closer, and you force yourself to focus on the exam in front of you, walking her through the corrections.

To your surprise, she’s paying attention for once, asking questions and even jotting down notes. But every so often, you catch her looking at you, her lips curving into a small smile when your eyes meet. It’s distracting—too distracting.

“Are you even listening?” you ask, your tone sharper than intended.

“Of course,” she replies, her smile widening. “I just like how serious you look when you’re explaining stuff. It’s cute.”

You ignore the comment, pushing through the rest of the review until, finally, the session is over. Relief washes over you as you start packing up, eager to put distance between you and the lingering tension in the room.

“Well, I’ll see you next time,” you say, standing and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

But just as you’re about to leave, Yunjin speaks up. “Oh, by the way…”

You pause, turning back to her. “What?”

Her smile turns sly, her gaze locking onto yours. “I know you’ve been stalking me.”

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs casually. “Twitter, professor. You liked my tweet last night. Even if you un-liked it right after, I still got the notification.”

Your face flushes hot, and you stammer out a denial. “That was—it was an accident. I wasn’t stalking you.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, clearly amused. “Sure, it was an accident. But you’ve been watching my TikToks too, haven’t you? Don’t worry, I don’t mind. I mean, you must like what you see, right?”

“Yunjin,” you say sharply, trying to regain control of the situation. “This is inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” she echoes, feigning innocence. “You’re the one watching my videos. I’m just offering to help.”

She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a playful murmur. “There are some pictures I can’t post online, but if you’re interested, I could send them to you directly. Just say the word.”

Your throat feels tight, your heart pounding in your ears. “Enough,” you say, your voice firm despite your growing discomfort. “This conversation is over. Focus on finishing your research, and I’ll see you at the next session.”

Before she can respond, you turn and leave, the door clicking shut behind you. Your pulse is racing as you walk down the hallway, the weight of her words pressing heavily on your chest. Whatever game Yunjin is playing, you need to figure out how to stop her, because she's winning. And she knows it.

—

The meeting room is stuffy, filled with the low hum of conversation as teachers and teaching assistants shuffle through papers, laptops glowing on the table. Discussions blur together—deadlines, assignment structures, grading systems. It’s a routine part of the job, but today, the monotony feels heavier than usual. You’ve barely slept, and the endless logistics are starting to drag you down.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, a tiny lifeline in the sea of boredom. Pulling it out discreetly, you glance at the screen. The message is from Yunjin, which immediately gets your attention. Maybe she’s finally sent the research.

You unlock the screen, expecting a quick note about emailing the document. Instead, you freeze.

The photo stares back at you, and for a moment, your brain short-circuits. Yunjin is lying on a bed, her body draped in sheer lingerie that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Her lips are pouty, glossy, her eyes half-lidded as she gazes directly into the camera. The curve of her hips, the delicate lace barely covering her small breasts—you almost drop your phone on the floor.

Your stomach twists in a mix of shock and something far more raw.

You glance up quickly, scanning the room. No one’s looking at you—everyone’s absorbed in their own work. But the heat rising in your face makes you paranoid. You tilt your phone slightly, shielding the screen from view, and scroll down, hoping for clarification.

Another photo.

This time, the angle is wider, showing her sprawled on her bed with a laptop propped up in front of her. The message accompanying it reads:

Finishing my research. Thought you’d want proof I’m working hard 😉

The sheer lingerie is even more revealing in this shot, the delicate fabric hugging her curves, the way her breasts press against the lace, the faint outline of her nipples—it’s too much. Your dick stirs in your pants, completely out of your control, and you have to shift in your seat to keep yourself from reacting further.

You type back quickly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

You didn’t need to send pictures. Just the research would’ve been fine.

Her reply is almost instant.

But I wanted to show you I’m putting in the effort. Don’t you think I deserve a little reward?

Your pulse spikes, and you grip your phone tighter. What the hell is she doing? You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to focus.

Your reward will be getting an A on the exam. That’s the goal, right?

Her response is teasing, playful.

Oh, I’ve got another exam I want an A on. And I know I can ace it.

Your jaw clenches, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral as you glance around the room again. No one seems to notice your distraction, but the heat creeping up your neck makes you feel exposed.

You type back, your fingers moving quickly.

Just focus on finishing the research. That’s all that matters right now.

She doesn’t back down.

Fine, but don’t forget about my reward, professor. I worked really hard on this, you know.

Before you can think it through, your fingers type a reply that surprises even you.

I’ll think about it later.

Her next message comes with a string of emojis—a cheer, a wink, a heart. Then:

Yay! You’re the best 🥰. Don’t stress too much, okay?

You set your phone down, turning it face-down on the table like that might somehow erase the conversation from existence. But the damage is done. Your heart is pounding, your mind racing, and the tension in your body is impossible to ignore.

What the hell are you doing? You’re losing control of the situation—of yourself—and Yunjin knows it. She’s toying with you, testing your boundaries, and the worst part is, you can’t seem to stop her.

—

The air feels charged the moment you step into the office. Yunjin’s sitting there, but there’s something different about her today—her confidence is practically radiating off her. She’s wearing a strapless crop top that clings to her figure, showing her toned stomach, and a skirt so short it rides high on her thighs when she crosses her legs. Her hair is styled to perfection, glossy and smooth, and her lips are painted a shade of red that’s just subtle enough to feel dangerous.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. The memory of her last text conversation is still fresh, and you can feel the weight of it pressing down on you. But this is supposed to be a professional setting. You remind yourself of that as you set your bag down on the table and pull out her research paper that you printed.

“Well,” you begin, keeping your tone steady. “I have to say, I’m impressed. You really outdid yourself with this.”

Her smile widens, and she leans forward slightly in her chair. “You really think so?”

“I do,” you admit, holding up the paper. “You dug into the material, analyzed it well. It’s thorough. If you put this much effort into your exam, you’ll have no problem passing.”

She stands then, smooth and deliberate, and your chest tightens as she closes the distance between you. “When I thought about how proud you’d be,” she says, her voice soft and teasing, “I couldn’t help but try a little harder.”

You lean against the table, trying to create some distance, but it doesn’t help. She’s right there, standing just close enough for you to catch the faint scent of her perfume.

“This is our last session before the exam,” you say, your voice tight. “Let’s focus on going over your research. We’ll review the points you brought—”

Before you can finish, she reaches out and snatches the paper from your hand. Her eyes gleam with mischief as she steps even closer, tilting her head to look up at you.

“What about my reward?” she asks, her voice dropping into a lower, sultrier tone.

Your blood heats instantly, your pulse pounding in your ears. You take a sharp breath, trying to push the rising tide of desire back down. “Yunjin,” you say, your tone edged with warning. “We don’t have time for this. Your exam is right around the corner—”

“Forget about the damn exam,” she interrupts, her voice firm but still teasing. “I don’t care about that right now.”

Her finger presses lightly against your chest, trailing downward over your shirt. The touch is electric, sending sparks down your spine, and for a moment, you can’t move.

“Yunjin,” you whisper, her name catching in your throat.

She steps closer, her body brushing yours, her lips curving into that maddening smile. “Stop pretending you’re not into me,” she murmurs.

“This is unethical,” you say, your voice strained, but even you can hear the weakness in it.

“No one has to know,” she counters, her finger still moving slowly down your chest. Her voice drops again, turning into a near whisper. “What did you do with the pictures I sent you? Hm?”

You freeze, your breath catching.

“I bet you jerked off to them,” she continues, her words deliberate and slow. “I bet you imagined me on that bed, in that lingerie. I bet you imagined fucking me.”

It’s too much. The tension, the temptation, the way she’s looking at you with those half-lidded eyes—it all boils over. Before you can stop yourself, you grab her, your hands gripping her waist as you kiss her hard.

She gasps softly against your mouth, her body tensing in surprise, but she recovers quickly, her hands sliding up to your shoulders as she kisses you back with just as much heat. Her lips are soft and plush, tasting faintly of gloss, and the way she moves against you is intoxicating.

Your hands move instinctively, one sliding up her back while the other presses against her hip. Her skin is warm beneath the thin fabric of her top, and the closeness of her body only stokes the fire burning inside you.

Without breaking the kiss, you guide her toward the door, fumbling with the lock until you hear the satisfying click. It’s only then that you let yourself acknowledge what’s happening, fully giving in to the need that’s been building for weeks.

She pulls back slightly, her breath coming in quick gasps as she looks up at you, her eyes wide and dark with desire.

“This what you wanted?” you ask, your voice rough, your hands still holding her tightly.

She smiles, slow and wicked. “Yes,” she whispers.

Your grip tightens on her waist, and you push her back against the wall, your lips finding hers again with even more urgency. Her hands slide up into your hair, tugging lightly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

This girl—she’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You’ve never wanted someone this badly, never felt this out of control. And for once, you don’t care.

Your hands fumble with the belt at your waist, the leather slipping through the loops as you tug it free with an urgency that borders on desperation. The metal buckle clinks loudly in the otherwise silent room, and Yunjin smiles, leaning back against the wall, looking so damn pleased with herself. Her lips are parted, her chest rising and falling in anticipation, and that smug expression on her face only makes the heat inside you burn hotter.

“You have no idea how much you’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” you growl, your voice low and rough, barely able to contain the frustration and desire that have been building for what feels like forever.

Her smile turns into a wicked grin, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Then show me,” she whispers, her voice soft but daring. “Show me how crazy I’ve made you.”

You shove your pants down, along with your boxers, kicking them off with your shoes in one quick motion. Your cock springs free, hard and aching, the weight of it hanging heavy between your legs. The cool air against your skin only heightens the tension crackling in the room.

Yunjin’s eyes drop immediately, her tongue flicking over her lips as she takes you in, and for once, she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. The look on her face says it all.

Your hands move to her hips, and you yank her skirt up roughly, the fabric bunching around her waist. That’s when you see it—she’s not wearing any panties. Nothing at all. The curve of her bare ass, the glistening heat between her thighs, it’s all there, shamelessly on display.

“You little whore,” you hiss, your fingers digging into her soft flesh.

“Yes,” she breathes, arching her back and pressing her ass against you. “I am. I’ve been waiting for you to finally notice.”

“Well, you’ve got my attention now,” you snap, your voice heavy with a mix of irritation and raw lust.

Without another word, you drop to your knees, grabbing her hips to steady her as you position yourself behind her. Her ass is sticking out, her body pressed against the wall, her legs slightly parted. The sight of her like this, so willing, so ready—it’s almost too much.

You spread her cheeks, exposing her fully to you, and you’re met with the sight of her pussy, already slick and glistening, her arousal shining in the dim light of the room. The smell of her hits you instantly—sweet and musky, intoxicating.

Leaning in, you drag your tongue over her folds, slow and deliberate, tasting her for the first time. She gasps, her body jerking slightly at the contact, and her hands press against the wall for support.

“Fuck,” she moans, her voice high and needy. “More.”

You don’t hesitate. You bury your face between her thighs, your tongue sliding through her wetness, exploring every inch of her. You flick your tongue over her clit, and she lets out a loud, breathy moan, her hips grinding back against your face.

Her taste is addictive, her slick heat coating your lips and tongue as you work her over. You grip her thighs, spreading her wider, giving yourself more access as you suck her clit into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the sensitive nub.

“Shit, that feels so good,” she whimpers, her voice breathless. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

You hum against her, the vibration making her gasp again, and you dive back in, fucking her with your tongue before moving back to her clit. She’s dripping now, her juices slicking your chin, but you don’t care. All you can think about is how good she tastes, how perfect she feels under your tongue.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, her fingers curling against the wall as she pushes her hips back, practically riding your face. “Yes, fuck, just like that,” she cries, her voice breaking. “More. I need more.”

And you give it to her. Your fingers dig into Yunjin’s soft, perfect ass, the same one you’ve seen flaunted all over Instagram and TikTok—dancing, teasing, making you want something you shouldn't. But now it's here, in your hands, trembling under your touch as your tongue drags through her soaked folds again. She's moaning, gasping, her body pressing harder into the wall, and you can feel the way she’s falling apart, unraveling under your mouth.

“Oh fuck, professor,” she gasps, her voice dripping with something between amusement and desperation. You know she’s doing it on purpose—calling you that even though you’re just the teaching assistant, pushing buttons, seeing how far she can take it now that you’ve finally snapped.

You don’t care anymore.

Your grip tightens, fingers sinking into her flesh possessively, your tongue working faster, harder. Yunjin’s hips jerk, her thighs quivering, and she whines, that high-pitched, needy sound that makes your cock throb painfully with desire. Her juices are all over your mouth, dripping down your chin, and you don’t stop, don’t let up, because you need her to know she’s not in control anymore.

“I knew you'd be good at this,” she breathes, pushing her hips back into your face, rocking against you shamelessly. “All that self-control... gone.”

You groan into her, the vibrations making her moan louder, her fingers clawing at the wall for support. She's a mess, squirming, panting, but you pull back suddenly.

She gasps, looking over her shoulder with a half-lidded, fucked-out expression. “W-why’d you stop?”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your lips glistening with her slick, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Because I need more.”

Before she can say anything, you're standing up, pressing your body against hers, the heat of her skin making everything more real, more alive. Your hands grab her hips roughly, and you feel her shiver when your cock, hard and aching, presses against the dripping heat between her thighs.

She lets out a sharp gasp when you slide the tip in, her pussy so tight, squeezing you instantly, and yet so slick from your mouth that you slide deeper without resistance. Her hands slam against the wall, her mouth falling open in shock. “Oh, fuck, you—you're so—”

You don’t let her finish. You grip her waist and thrust in deeper, stretching her inch by inch, and she melts against you, her breathy moans echoing in the small office. Her tight heat wraps around you perfectly, and it’s fucking perfect, the way she clenches down, her body welcoming you with every movement.

“You didn’t think I’d actually fuck you like this, did you?” you murmur against her ear, your voice rough, dark.

She whimpers, pushing back against you, her nails scratching the wall. “I hoped,” she gasps, her voice breaking when you thrust harder, slamming her hips against the wall. “I wanted you to, so fucking bad—”

Your grip on her tightens, your hands roaming over her body, gripping her hips, her waist, her ass—claiming her, branding her. She’s yours now, and she knows it.

“Then take it,” you growl, pounding into her harder, your hips slamming against hers. Yunjin cries out, her body arching, her head falling back against your shoulder as she surrenders completely.

She's giving herself to you, and you take everything.

Your hips snap forward, slamming into Yunjin’s tight, slick pussy with a rhythm that grows rougher, harder, more desperate by the second. Her moans are high and breathless, rising with each thrust.

But it’s not enough.

Your hands slide up her body, greedy and possessive, until they reach her small, almost-flat chest. The crop top she’s wearing clings to her like a second skin, and it’s been driving you insane since you entered the room. She had to do this—she had to tease you, prance around in those tiny fucking tops like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

Gripping the hem, you yank it down roughly, baring her breasts in one swift motion. They’re small, just barely enough to fill your hands, but perfect. Perfect in a way that makes your head spin. Her nipples are already hard, tight little buds that beg for your attention, and you don’t hold back.

“God, I’ve been imagining this,” you growl, cupping her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers. The soft gasp that leaves her lips only spurs you on, your voice dark and raw. “Ever since the first day I saw you in one of these slutty little tops. I wanted to do this. I wanted to see these tits—these fucking perfect tits you love to show off.”

Yunjin cries out, arching her back, pushing her chest into your hands. “Fuck,” she gasps, her voice trembling with pleasure. “I knew you wanted me, professor. I could feel it. And now you’ve got me. You’ve got me so fucking wet.”

Your cock twitches inside her at her words, and you thrust harder, making her yelp, her thighs shaking against you. “You’re the kind of girl who drives me insane,” you admit, your hands still kneading her breasts, tugging her nipples, making her moan louder.

“Yeah?” she pants, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder, her eyes dark with lust. “Am I your type? Is that it? You like slutty girls like me?”

You groan, your hands sliding down to her waist, gripping her tightly as you fuck her harder. “Yes,” you growl through clenched teeth. “That’s the fucking problem. Girls like you—slutty little teases who know exactly what they’re doing—drive me out of my goddamn mind.”

She lets out a choked laugh, her head dropping forward as you hammer into her, her body jolting against the wall. “Then go crazy,” she whispers, her voice dripping with challenge.

Something in you snaps. You pull out suddenly, ignoring her whimper of protest, and grab her roughly by the hips. Turning her around, you lift her onto the table in one swift motion, throwing her onto her back with no hesitation. Her skirt is still bunched around her waist, and her crop top is shoved down, her bare tits on full display as she sprawls out in front of you.

You lean over her, grabbing one of her breasts and taking the nipple into your mouth, sucking hard. Yunjin cries out, her back arching off the table, her hands flying to your hair as she holds you there.

“Oh my god,” she moans, her voice shaking. “Yes, yes, suck them. Fuck, that feels so good—”

You switch to the other nipple, your tongue flicking over the hardened peak before you suck it into your mouth, drawing another loud, breathless moan from her. She’s squirming under you, her thighs spreading wider as her hands tug at your hair, desperate for more.

When you finally pull back, her chest is heaving, her skin flushed, her lips parted in a way that makes your cock throb. You grip her hips, dragging her to the edge of the table, and position yourself between her legs.

The sight of her like this—her skirt pushed up, her top pulled down, her bare tits rising and falling with every shaky breath—is enough to make you lose what little control you have left. She looks like a slutty schoolgirl, and you can’t stop yourself from imagining her like that, teasing every teacher she’s ever had until she found one who finally gave in.

“You look like such a fucking slut,” you growl, lining yourself up and slamming into her in one hard thrust.

Yunjin cries out, her head falling back against the table, her hands flying to your arms as you grip her hips and start fucking her again. “I am,” she whimpers, her voice high and desperate. “I’m your slut.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

Your hips move like they have a mind of their own, pounding into Yunjin’s tight, soaking pussy with a relentless rhythm that leaves no space for hesitation. The way she moans—high, breathless, desperate—fuels you, makes you fuck her harder, deeper, chasing that feeling of being completely lost in her.

She’s gripping the edges of the table, her knuckles white, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes are hazy, lips parted, and the way pleasure takes over her face is fucking intoxicating.

“F-fuck,” she gasps, her voice trembling as you keep slamming into her, your cock stretching her perfectly. “If you keep—keep going like this, I’m gonna—”

“That’s the point,” you growl, leaning over her, your hands tightening on her thighs as you thrust even harder. “Cum on my cock, Yunjin. I want to feel it.”

“Fuck, professor,” she moans, rolling her hips up to meet your every thrust, and hearing that word spill from her lips so naturally drives you fucking crazy. She loves calling you that, loves the way it sounds when she’s this desperate and fucked out.

Your thumb finds her clit, still sensitive from the way your mouth had worked her over earlier, and the second you press down, she nearly jumps off the table.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers, squirming under you, her body tensing. “Too much—fuck, that’s so—”

But you don’t stop. You rub tight circles over her clit, making her thighs tremble around your waist, and the louder she moans, the harder you fuck her. You forget everything—where you are, what you’re doing. You don’t care that you're in a office, on campus, where anyone could hear. All you care about is making her cum.

“Cum for me,” you demand, your voice rough, your cock throbbing inside her. “Come on, slut. Cum all over my cock.”

“I’m—I’m almost—” Her voice breaks, and her whole body tightens, her pussy clenching down around you so hard it makes your own pleasure spike.

Your thrusts grow even faster, each one hitting so deep it leaves her gasping, and her wetness makes everything filthy, each slap of your hips against her sounding louder, slicker. The obscene noise fills the room, but you’re too far gone to care.

And then she breaks.

Her entire body shudders, her back arching off the table as she covers her mouth with one trembling hand, muffling the scream that threatens to spill out. Her pussy clenches around you, pulsing with each wave of pleasure that rocks through her, and you keep fucking her through it, driving slow, deep thrusts into her shaking body.

Each slow pull out, each hard thrust back in, sends a jolt through her, making her whimper into her palm, her eyes squeezed shut as the aftershocks keep rolling through her.

You finally slow down, your cock still throbbing inside her, soaked in everything she’s given you. You pull out slowly, watching the way her pussy clings to you, reluctant to let go.

“On your knees,” you order, your voice thick and wrecked.

She’s still trembling, but she slides off the table, her legs shaky as she sinks down in front of you, eyes dark with lust, lips swollen from all her moaning. She looks up at you through heavy lashes, her skirt still bunched up, her top still tugged down, her tits out and flushed.

She grabs your cock with both hands, stroking it once, twice, and the sight of her, kneeling, covered in her own arousal, makes you think you should have fucked her sooner.

Then her lips part, and she wraps them around the head of your cock, sucking you in with that perfect, practiced mouth.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your hand tangling in her hair, guiding her as she takes more of you in. Her lips leave smudges of lipstick along your shaft, marking you, staining you with that perfect, slutty red.

She moans around you, her tongue swirling, and you watch as she bobs her head, her mouth stretching to accommodate you. It’s hot—so fucking hot—the way she’s so eager, so desperate to taste herself on your cock.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your grip tightening on her hair as you guide her pace. “Suck it all, baby.”

Yunjin hums in response, the vibrations making you groan, and you know you’re not going to last much longer.

Yunjin’s mouth is a fucking masterpiece. Her plump, wet lips glide over your cock with a skill that has you gripping the edge of the table for support. Drool drips down her chin, slick and messy, pooling at the corners of her mouth as she takes you deeper, her throat flexing around your length. The obscene, wet sounds echo in the quiet room, each suck, each moan sending shockwaves straight to your core.

She’s a mess, lipstick smeared, saliva glistening on her chin and trailing down her neck, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, she gets sloppier, filthier, letting spit dribble down your shaft as she strokes you with both hands, twisting, squeezing, making sure you're soaked in her mess.

“Fuck, Yunjin,” you groan, your hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements. “Just like that. Keep going.”

She hums around you, the vibration making your thighs tense. Then, without warning, she moves lower, dragging her slick tongue down to your balls, sucking one into her mouth while still jerking your cock. The way her tongue swirls around them, wet and warm, sends you reeling, your cock twitching in her grip.

Your head falls back, a low, guttural groan slipping past your lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing, taking her time, teasing, drawing it out until you’re on the verge of losing control.

Then she’s back on your cock, focusing on the sensitive head, sucking hard, her tongue flicking over the slit, drawing out beads of pre-cum. Wet, obscene noises fill the air, her lips working you with relentless precision.

“I’m close,” you grit out, your muscles tensing, your whole body tightening in anticipation.

But just when you think you’re about to explode, she pulls off with a pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her lipstick smeared across her flushed skin, drool glistening on her chin. She looks up at you, eyes dark and needy, lips swollen and shining.

“Cum inside me,” she says, her voice dripping with sin. “I want it. I’m on the pill, so don’t hold back.”

That's all you need to hear. No hesitation. No second thoughts. You’re on her in an instant, hauling her up off her knees, your hands gripping her thighs as you carry her to the chair in the corner of the room. You drop into it, pulling her onto your lap, her legs straddling you.

She doesn’t waste a second. She reaches between you, grabbing your slick, throbbing cock and guiding it back inside her dripping pussy. The heat, the tightness, the way she sinks down onto you in one smooth motion makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your hands gripping her hips, feeling the way she clenches around you, wetter than before thanks to the sloppy blowjob she just gave you.

Yunjin smirks, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding down on you in a way that has you seeing stars. “Feel good, professor?” she purrs, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance. “You like when your little slut rides you?”

You groan, your grip tightening, but she doesn’t let up. She starts moving, bouncing on your cock with an intoxicating rhythm, her tight pussy swallowing you over and over. The way her hips roll, the way she grinds down between thrusts—it’s hypnotic, like she was made for this. Like she’s done this a million times before.

“Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing,” you pant, your head falling back against the chair.

“Of course I do,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “I know how to fuck. I know how to make you cum.”

Your whole body tightens, the pressure building to a breaking point as Yunjin rides you with that perfect, relentless rhythm. Her hips roll in slow, deep circles, grinding down on your cock like she owns it, like she knows exactly what you need. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room, her slick pussy squeezing you with every bounce, pulling you deeper, tighter.

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her voice a low, breathy whisper. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

Your grip on her hips tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin, trying to hold on as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you. “Fuck, Yunjin,” you groan, your voice rough and strained, barely holding it together.

She bites her lip, looking down at you with dark, knowing eyes. “I can feel it,” she purrs, rocking her hips down hard, her wet heat swallowing you to the hilt. “You’re so fucking close.”

You nod, chest heaving, your breath ragged. “Yeah—shit, I’m—”

“Cum inside me,” she interrupts, grinding her hips down with a sinful twist that sends sparks shooting through your spine. “I want it, professor. Fill me up.”

Her words make you moan, tearing down whatever restraint you had left. Your cock throbs inside her, and you feel yourself teetering right on the edge, so close you can’t even think straight.

“Creampie this tight little pussy,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice dripping with need. “I want to feel your hot, thick cum deep inside me. Come on professor, give me my reward.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

A strangled groan rips from your throat as you finally let go, your cock pulsing inside her, thick, hot spurts of cum spilling deep into her. Your whole body shudders, muscles going tight, and you bury your face against her neck, holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Yunjin gasps, feeling every pulse, every drop of warmth filling her. Her body trembles against yours, her nails raking lightly down your back as she moans into your ear, soft and breathless. “Oh my god,” she whimpers, her hips still moving, riding out your release, grinding slow and deep to milk every last drop from you.

You grip her tighter, pushing her down onto you as deep as she can go, wanting to make sure she takes every bit of it. “Fuck, Yunjin,” you pant, feeling the way her pussy clenches around you, still so impossibly tight. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moans in response, rolling her hips lazily, a satisfied, dazed smile spreading across her lips. “Mmm, I can feel it,” she whispers, her hands sliding up your chest, her fingers tracing over your skin. “You came so much.”

You groan, your hands slipping to her ass, gripping her firmly as you thrust up into her one last time, pushing your cum deeper inside. She lets out a sharp gasp, her head falling forward against your shoulder.

A few long moments pass before she finally stills, collapsing against you, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. Your hands stay on her hips, holding her in place, keeping yourself buried inside her even as your cock twitches with oversensitivity. You can feel the warmth between her legs, the way your cum is starting to trickle out, leaking down onto your thighs, but she doesn’t move—doesn’t seem to care.

You don’t say anything for a moment, just holding her, feeling her heartbeat against yours. But then she lifts her head, that familiar, wicked grin spreading across her face.

“Guess I should call you professor more often,” she whispers, rolling her hips lazily.

You groan, your head falling back against the chair. “I can't believe I fucked a student.”

Yunjin laughs, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your lips. “And you loved every second of it."

She stays perched on your, her bare thighs pressed against yours, her pussy still warm and slick around your softening cock. The lazy rise and fall of her chest, the way her messy hair frames her flushed face—it’s all so goddamn perfect. She looks at you with that smug little smile that’s both adorable and infuriating, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across your chest.

“So,” she purrs, tilting her head slightly, “what grade do I deserve for all my... hard work?”

You smirk, running your hands up her sides, feeling the heat of her skin beneath your fingertips. “An A,” you admit, your voice still ragged from everything she’s just put you through.

Her smile widens, and she leans in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “I know,” she whispers, cocky as ever. She fucking knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and that little glint in her eyes makes your heart race again.

She shifts slightly, grinding down just enough to remind you that she’s still there, still wrapped around you, and then she lowers her voice. “So... can I get an A on the exam too?”

And just like that, reality comes crashing back.

You freeze, the post-orgasm haze clearing just enough for the weight of what she’s asking to settle in. This was bound to happen, wasn’t it? The teasing, the flirting, the fucking—it was all leading to this. A transactional undercurrent beneath every sultry look, every professor she moaned while you fucked her in the office.

You swallow, your hands hesitating on her waist. “Yunjin,” you start, shaking your head slightly, “I... I can’t do that. I mean, I—”

She cuts you off by pressing a finger against your lips, her eyes locking onto yours, dark and full of something dangerous. “Yes, you can,” she murmurs, leaning in just enough for her lips to brush against your cheek, teasing, distracting. “Because you like me.”

You feel your resolve wavering, your mind screaming at you to push her away, to get up, to say no—but your body? Your body’s already leaning into her, already craving more.

“And,” she continues, trailing her finger down your chest, her voice dripping with sweet, poisonous temptation, “because I know you’ll want to fuck me again. Don’t you?”

Fuck.

She’s right. Of course she’s right.

Your jaw clenches, the internal battle raging inside you—ethics, professionalism, responsibility. But what are those compared to the feel of her? The way she’s looking at you, promising so much more with just a glance? You’ve already crossed a line so thick and deep there’s no point pretending you can step back now.

She senses your hesitation, and like the predator she is, she pounces.

Her lips are back on yours, slow and sensual, tasting like sin and triumph. She rolls her hips against you, and your cock twitches, traitorous and eager. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she whispers, lips brushing against your ear. “You think today was wild? I’ll show you things that’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

Your grip tightens on her hips instinctively, and your mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “What... what kind of things?”

Yunjin grins, leaning back to meet your gaze, her fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. “Oh, professor,” she teases, eyes gleaming, “you’ll just have to say yes to find out.”

You exhale sharply, your moral compass spinning wildly, but the truth is, it’s already broken.

Fuck ethics.

Fuck responsibility.

You want her. You want her more than you care about some stupid fucking exam.

Surrendering, you nod, a shy whisper. “Fine.”

Her eyes light up, and she lets out a delighted little laugh, her arms wrapping around your neck as she rocks her hips against you. “I knew you’d come around,” she purrs, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’re too easy.”

“You’re fucking evil,” you mutter, your hands gripping her ass tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

She just grins. “And you fucking love it.”

You can’t argue. Not when she’s looking at you like that, like she owns you, because fuck—it sure feels like she does.

Yunjin shifts on your lap, moving in a slow, sensual grind that makes your head spin, and you groan, already hardening inside her again. “I guess I always manage to pass,” she murmurs, kissing along your jaw, “but in my own way.”

You shake your head, but there’s no fight left in you, only a deep, gnawing hunger for her. “You’re trouble,” you murmur, hands roaming her body again, already wanting more.

She smirks, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I’m your trouble now.”

[nebulaeternal]

「 ✦ Play by Play ✦ 」

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: f!xm, porn w/little plot, guided masturbation, edging, teasing, size kink, overstimulation, dirty talk, pussy play, vulgar Caleb, absolute brainrot.

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: Caleb had returned from Skyhaven, eager to see your face as always. Trying to sneak up on you, he finds a more pleasant surprise waiting to welcome him home.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 1.9K

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: Here's some more of my brainrot writing, this might be a little more accurate now that I have a better idea of his character. This is a multi-part fic, I'm not sure how many parts but its likely it'll be 2. Hope you all like it, let me know what you think! Enjoy! (Did wanna add once more that if you wanna join my taglist, to make sure your settings allow me to tag you and that your username is correct.)

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @noone-png, @kicupo, @rafayelsplush, @imissnanami

Your legs were clenched tightly, the man before you held a gaze so hot it burned holes through your body. What were you doing before? You had been in your room, trying desperately to get off for the last hour, frustration etched in your movements and moans as you rubbed your clit, a groan of irritation leaving your lips as yet, another orgasm slipped through your fingers, literally. 

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb had come back from Skyhaven to visit you like always. He walked through the door quietly, hoping to catch you by surprise. Gently, he shut the door behind him and carefully set down his things, looking eagerly for you till he heard the sighs and moans that came from behind your door. He knew he shouldn’t be listening in but he couldn’t help it, you sounded heavenly. “Caleb~“

His heart thumped hard in his chest, did you know he was there? “Right there-“ the sighs spilled from your lips as he listened to you. Caleb crept closer, realizing now that your door was cracked just barely, giving him a good enough view of you.

The sight he saw before him made his body burn, his skin prick with sweat, and his pants unbearably tight. There you were, draped in one of his many shirts, not an uncommon occurrence for you, but seeing your legs spread and your hand on your cunt, it made something inside him stir. 

He stayed there for a while, debating whether to stay or walk away. Unable to let himself indulge in such a guilty pleasure he began to slink away, that is until he heard your frustrated groan followed by a whine.

Sneaking back to the door, he watched you throw your head back in defeat. A pout of frustration wore on your lips, the same pout he loved so much and couldn’t resist. Without even thinking he pushed your door open.

Startled, you gasped and scrambled under your sheets. Your face burned hot as you tried to compose yourself. “Caleb-“

“Ah ah.” He said, catching you somewhat off guard. He was so serious…Taking the chair from the middle of your room, he pulled it up beside your bed and took a seat.

Your eyes flicker down at his crotch to see the strain in his pants, before quickly looking back at his face, hoping he didn’t notice the shift in gaze. “What are you-“

“I know now. You can’t hide it anymore, there’s no need to.” When he said those words your heart dropped to your ass, beating fast as you stared at him almost in horror “Caleb I’m so fucking sor-“

“Open.” He commanded. You couldn’t quite read him and you stared at him bewildered. “Your legs, open your legs.” He said more gently now. “Wha-“ His fingers graze your legs through the blanket.

“You want me right? Want my help?” Gnawing your lip, you nod slowly but surely. “Good, then spread those legs, princess.” Your face burned hot as his words reached your ears.

Doing as he asked, you peeled the blanket away and exposed your bare lower half to him. He inhaled sharply through his nose and scooted closer, the vein in his neck straining.

He leaned in, his scent infiltrating your nostrils, almost instantly short-circuiting your brain. “Sit back for me and show me how you do it, yeah?” Shyly you nodded, positioning yourself to be right in front of him.

You wanted to desperately start up again, feeling your core begin to leak once more but you were almost scared stiff. “Relax, close your eyes, and listen to my voice.” You nodded, to which he was pleased. “Good girl…now play with your clit.”

Trying your best to calm down, your fingers crept lower, eyelids fluttering shut. A strangled moan left your lips when you reached your clit. You heard a shaky breath from Caleb, which only managed to spur you on further.

His eyes were trained on your face, flicking between the bliss you exuded and the way you worked yourself. His voice was husky and breathless, “Keep going just like that..” Caleb watched intently, savoring the whines that slipped past your lips. 

Seeing how slick your entrance had become, he wanted more. “Slide your fingers inside.” He rasped out, breath growing heavy. He watched your two middle fingers slip into your cunt, stretching the flesh around it. It took absolute restraint for him to stay seated, seeing the way your chest heaved, the moans that spilled from your lips, and the shallow thrusting of your fingers. All while draped in his shirt that was way too big for you.

As you continued, a creamy white ring started to form around your fingers, the noises lewd made your ears burn. “Caleb~ Please.” you whined out, not quite sure what it was you were begging for, but he knew.

Your moans only got louder, your fear and worry long forgotten as you sank into the pleasure. Slumping back onto your elbows, you instinctively spread your legs wider, seeking more. As you neared your peak, your movements became urgent, your moans more desperate–until his next command cut through your haze “Now stop.” What? Your body betrayed you, obeying him almost instantly. Though you didn’t stop entirely, your pace did slow down, a whine of frustration escaping your lips as your pleading eyes met his.

As much as he wanted to bend at your whim, and give you what you wanted, he didn’t. He had other plans for you. Leaning back into his chair, legs spread wide, he silently shook his head. “But why?” You whimpered, fingers still moving at a torturously slow pace.

“I told you to stop, princess. Why are you still moving them, hm?” you flashed him another pleading look to which he exhaled deeply. “Alright—go on.” With his permission now granted, you eagerly resumed your previous activities, slumping back into your elbows as the world around you faded into nothing but the intense sensations he had so carefully put together.

Lost in the indulgence, you barely noticed the faint rustling and shifting sounds nearby. Every ounce of focus was consumed by your approaching climax, your sole objective now was to reach it.

Then there it was, a moan that didn’t belong to you, a very strangled, guttural moan. You paused your movements, sitting up to look at him, only to find him palming himself through his pants. His gaze was lidded, staring at you through the fringe of his hair.

You stared at him almost in awe, forgetting your pleasure for a moment. Then he got up, his body moving almost completely beyond his control. Quickly he closed the distance, pushing you flat against the bed. Leaning down he whispers in your ear, “Don’t stop now, you’ve been doing so good.” 

Before your mind could process his words, you felt his fingers rest atop yours, aiding to push them deeper into your pussy, causing you to shut your eyes and moan loudly. Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him chuckle softly.

He continued to guide your fingers, his larger hand almost completely covering yours as you stared deep into his irises, purple and sparkling with mischief. You felt his finger start to intrude your entrance, sliding in right next to yours, causing you to gasp out.

“Caleb—oh fuck.” You tossed your head back into the sheets, absolutely blissed out. He studied your face closely, watching every change in your expression as he fingered you. Suddenly he stopped. Your head whipped up as you pouted but before you could protest, he hoisted you up and sat you in his lap, your back resting against his chest.

One of his arms hooked under your knee, bending your leg, while the other snaked over your waist and rested on your hip, forcing your thighs apart. You hadn’t realized the scene before you, till you saw the glint of his necklace chain in the mirror in front of you.

That’s right, the mirror that you look into every single day, making sure you were stylish before heading out, was now reflecting something far more obscene. Your cunt was on full display for him to see and his hand was only snaking closer to your clit.

Unable to deal with the embarrassment it brought upon you, you whipped your head away, trying to hide your face in his arm as best as possible. “Eyes up, baby girl.” 

“I-I can’t-“ you whined, almost pleading to let you off. Attempting to bury your face further, your body shifts slightly. He pinches your clit lightly, causing you to gasp out and arch your back.

“Yes, you can. Now eyes up.” He instructed soft and low into your ear. You managed to look up, finding his face nestled in the crook of your neck, peeking out over your shoulder as he slipped his fingers inside you.

“Oh my god—“ you sighed out, body tensing in his hold as he worked you slowly. Caleb watched you through the reflection of the mirror, loving how you squirmed and whined for him. The grip on his forearm was rough, nails digging crescents into his skin. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You practically sobbed out after being denied an orgasm for so long.

Your other arm managed to find its way to his hair, gripping him tightly and pulling him even closer to your neck, moaning shamelessly as his teeth sank into the flesh of your neck.

He chuckled darkly, quite amused with your desperation as your hips bucked up to meet his fingers. Your pussy was a leaking mess, fluids and juices flowing down onto the bulge of his pants—that sat right below your cunt.

He continued to tease you, bringing you too close to your high and refusing to let you fall. A tortuous tug of war ensued with your body. Tears of frustration streamed down your face as you babbled and begged him. and as much as he loved the sound of your pleading whines, he couldn't help but give in to your pleas, he wanted to have fun too after all. 

Slowly, he slipped his fingers out of you, squelching in the process. Gently pushing you onto your feet, he spun you both and dragged you onto the mattress. He slowly removed his shirt, exposing the expanse of muscle that lay beneath the fabric.

Your face grew hot with each inch of skin exposed, eyes trailing down to the ‘V’  that dips right under his beltline. You were staring so hard you didn’t even realize his shirt was fully taken off till his hands reached for his belt buckle, slowly unclasping it.

“Like what you see?” He teased, watching the way your eyes followed his movements, how you subconsciously gnawed on your lip, absolutely mesmerized. You’re not quite sure how, but you were suddenly possessed with the courage to walk up and touch him, but you did and something inside him snapped.

Caleb laid you down eagerly, sprawling you out on the mattress, admiring the view below him—you wearing his shirt, looking up at him flushed and desperate.

“Such a perfect mess for me.” He murmured, running a hand along your thigh, and pulling your hips flush against his crotch— loving the way you gasped and jolted at merely his touch. “You’re so sensitive, Princess~” he teased, emphasizing the nickname that had your knees weak.

Unconsciously you clench your legs, which elicited a reaction from him. He leaned down, dog tags clinking before resting on your neck as he whispered into your ear. “You love being called princess, don’t you? Princess.”

「 ✦ Part 2. Coming Soon! ✦ 」

[crimeboys]

hello! my name is cyrus, i have been living in a room with a closet overgrown with mold for at least a year and i did not realize how bad it was until i put two and two together that the health issues i've been suffering with that have been getting worse and worse since i moved into this room are literally the exact symptoms of mold toxicity! so that's awesome. i live in the living room now which is fun for both me and my roommate aka my brother.

but recently i had a mold specialist come look at it, he said that it was not a safe living environment (which i knew but was still fun to hear from a professional) and he was very kind and tried to knock the price down as much as he could for me because he knows i am having money struggles but it still came to an estimated 1800 dollars. which is quite a lot for me to have to pay all at once, and i certainly could not for a few months. however, he did offer a payment plan of 500 dollars upfront and 400 per month afterward, which i cannot afford immediately and is where the 900 comes from. my family are also unfortunately unable to contribute because everyone is kind of incredibly broke. anything you can give is much appreciated, thank you so much 🫶🫶

[wileys-russo]

three little words II a.russo

three little words II a.russo

you smiled down contentedly at the blonde whose head rested in your lap, your fingers raking gently through her hair as you laid together watching a movie, as was your newfound monday night tradition.

you'd met alessia in a coffee shop not far from your apartment a few months ago. the girl so caught up in her own thoughts she'd failed to see you coming through the door as she was on her way out, leading to her coffee no longer being in her hand but rather all over you.

she'd of course almost fainted with humiliation, especially when her first instinct had been to try to blot it out as she rambled out a million and one apologies.

however when she'd quickly realized she was unintentionally fondling a strangers chest as she tried desperately to wipe away the muddy brown coffee stains on your shirt she'd darted backward as if you were charged up with electricity.

that in turn then lead to her losing her footing and tumbling backwards, hurtling to the ground and knocking both her head against the door frame, and one of the servers down to the ground with her.

you'd meant to help her up, really you had. but the entire series of unfortunate events was so sudden and strange that you couldn't help but laugh, covering your mouth as alessia looked up horrified and thoroughly embarrassed.

but as its been said, laughter is infectious.

so despite the way her stomach churned uncomfortably and her cheeks burned red with shame she found herself laughing along with you, as if the two of you were old friends and this was a completely normal occurrence.

however coming to your senses and remembering your manners you'd surged forward to offer her a hand up which she'd profusely denied, awkwardly getting to her feet of her own accord and turning to utter another round of apologies to the young girl who'd already helped herself up.

the blonde immediately offered to pay for the coffee you'd arrived to buy as an apology, refusing to take no for an answer but the only catch being she'd begged you both go to literally anywhere else, as she was sure she could never ever step foot in this place again.

with a laugh you'd agreed, and then one coffee turned into two, and then a walk around a park nearby so you could continue talking about everything and nothing. then dinner, and gelato, and with hours having flown by like minutes the striker had eventually insisted on seeing you home safe.

then almost four months later here you were striding around her home like it was your own, making the blonde a tea exactly the way you knew she liked it and curling up together to watch a film alessia had been waiting to for days now.

"babe do you want to go out for dinner tomorrow? i know you have wednesdays off so you could stay over afterwards?" you were pulled out of your thoughts as alessia sat up and paused the movie, stretching as you hummed, only half having heard her.

"dinner. tomorrow, maybe japanese? there's that new place with all the pretty lights inside and the little red bridge we keep saying we'll try." alessia repeated with a soft smile of amusement at your daydreaming. "yeah that sounds nice baby." you agreed as the striker cracked her neck and you winced at the obnoxious popping noise which followed the action.

"i'll call and make a reservation in the morning then." your girlfriend promised, leaning in to press her lips softly to yours. "perfect." you mumbled against them, her hand slipping up the oversized shirt which belonged to her, but you'd claimed as your own.

"your hands are freezing russo!" you whined trying to push them away as they only creeped up higher. "well then let me warm them up." she grinned, ducking and pressing her lips back to yours before you could respond.

you weren't quite sure what it was, maybe just the swelling of emotions you felt as the blonde pulled away and smiled down at you like you hung the moon and stars.

or the shiny bubble of comfortable domesticity around the pair of you as she settled again and rested her head on your shoulder, arm still draped protectively across your midsection as you leaned your body further into hers.

maybe it was the way your senses were overridden with the intoxicating combination of her body wash and the lavender face masks the pair of you had done earlier.

or the way she grabbed your free hand in hers, lacing your fingers together and pressing a feather light kiss to your knuckles, but you felt a surge of something wash over you as your girlfriend clicked play on the movie again.

"i love you." you spoke suddenly with a confidence, eyes raking over your girlfriend burning with adoration, alessia's head shooting up off your shoulder and her gaze wide with surprise at the words neither of you had said yet, until now.

"i love you less." you repeated a little softer now, hand letting go of hers and moving to settle on her cheek as you leaned across to sweetly peck her lips, a slight frown creasing your eyebrows at the way she was rigidly frozen in place.

"i-thank you." alessia blurted out awkwardly, and at that response it was like all the air was sucked from the room, and you felt an awful sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, instant regret bubbling up in your throat like bile.

the two of you sat in the uncomfortable silence for a beat too long, staring at one another as alessia looked like a deer caught in headlights and you like you wanted the ground to swallow you up whole.

"should we keep watching the movie?" "i need to use the toilet."

the differences in the sentences spoke volumes as did the tones of your voices as alessia opened her mouth to say something and you darted off the sofa, legs unable to get you away from her fast enough before the door slammed shut and you could finally breathe.

alessia winced hearing it, knowing her reaction was quite literally the worst one it could have been, but in the moment it was all she could get out, even if that was far from how she actually felt.

you were in the bathroom for long enough your girlfriend knew you weren't actually using it for anything other than probably hiding from her, until finally the toilet flushed and the lock clicked open.

any sort of apology she planned to make was futile as you awkwardly shuffled back into the living room, looking anywhere but directly at the blonde whom a few moments ago you'd been unable to take your eyes off of.

"uh its late, i should go." you grabbed your car keys off the kitchen counter as alessia immediately frowned. "wait but i thought you were staying over?" she questioned confused as you moved to put your shoes on where they sat dormant by the front door.

"my boss called, they need me to cover someone tomorrow so i should probably head home." you lied quietly, which alessia knew given your phone had sat beside her on the sofa the entire time you were in the bathroom.

"oh, okay. well did you want to at least finish the movie?" your girlfriend quickly jumped to her feet with a glimmer of hope as you shook your head. "no its fine, watch without me." you flashed a clearly forced smile and withheld a wince as you accepted your phone she held out to you.

"well do you want me to come stay with you tonight instead then? i can just grab my stuff for training and-" alessia moved as if to go pack a bag as you shook your head and grabbed her hand, stilling her.

"no no, i know you have your routine. i'll uh, i'll talk to you tomorrow." you paused for a second as you let her hand go, fully ready to lean forward and kiss her goodbye as you normally would.

but not feeling that at all you instead settled for a tight lipped smile and turned to leave, alessia left a little shell shocked before you felt her grab your wrist as you opened the front door.

"baby no wait just let me-"

"don't less, please." you shook your head quickly, pain evident in your eyes which had alessias stomach lurching knowing she was quite clearly the cause of it.

"i'll call you tomorrow." you forced out, gently tugging your wrist free from her grip, then faster than alessia could even blink the front door was closed and you were gone.

but she couldn't help but worry that when you did call tomorrow, if you did, it wouldn't be to organise what time she was picking you up for dinner.

~

and sure enough it wasn't a call that came for alessia that next day, it was a simple text.

a text that cancelled your dinner plans all together, an excuse she saw right through that you'd double booked and forgot you had plans already with your parents.

but she didn't feel like she had much room to say anything about it, until a few days of awkward unresolved tension and profound lack of you in her life, and someone else pushed her to it.

"alright alessia. out with it!" the blonde looked up shocked, snapped out of her daydreaming to find leah stood in front of her, hands on hips and prominent scowl on her face as she looked down at her.

"sorry?" the striker questioned, confused where this was coming from and more than ready to go home and sulk after you'd made yet another excuse not to see her tonight.

"you've been moping around here like a sad sack for the last two days less, you're pleasant but you're not your usual bubbly lovely self. so whats happened then?" leah raised an eyebrow in questioning as alessia sighed.

"nothing leah, i'm fine. just tired!" alessia forced a smile as leah scoffed, seeing right thorough it, though before she could call her out on it someone beat her to it. "liar." kyra chimed in, appearing seemingly out of nowhere as alessia shot her a look.

"kyra don't-" "right! you, out with it." leah ordered shifting her glare to the young australian now.

"her girlfriend told her she loved her and less just said thank you and didn't say it back and now her girlfriends avoiding her like a bad smell." kyra let the truth come tumbling out as alessia groaned and leahs eyes widened.

"you've got a girlfriend?" leah near gasped as kyra suddenly paled beneath alessias near murderous glare. "that was private, kyra." the english girl grumbled as the australian mumbled an apology and took off back to her own locker.

"okay less? breathe. how about you come over for dinner? i think we have some catching up to do." "is this just so i'll cook for you?" "no! but if you want it to be edible..."

~

"so. this wonderful girl tells you she loves you, twice, and you say..." leah baited wait a raised eyebrow, empty plates sat on the table in front of them.

"-thank you." alessia admitted as leah visibly cringed, whistling under her breath. "no wonder she's avoiding you. the poor girl probablys died of embarrassment less!" leah warned as the younger blonde groaned. "i know that! she shouldn't be embarrassed though."

"shouldn't she?" leah urged for the girl to continue as alessia dragged her hands tiredly down her face. "i've just-this is all very new for me." the striker started, leah nodding on encouragingly.

"its not that its because shes the first girl i've dated. its just that...well the feelings i have for her are different than what i've felt before." alessia seemed to struggle to explain as leahs eyebrows creased together in mild confusion.

"different how?" "its hard to explain." "well at least give it a try less."

"i just-i've never worried this much about someone i've been seeing before. like when she's not with me i'm always wondering what shes doing and hoping shes okay, when she goes on trips for work i always worry something will happen to her, which is ridiculous because she sells coffee beans!" alessia scoffed with a roll of her eyes as leah hid a small smile with her hand.

"then whenever i'm waiting for her to message me back i check my phone more, because i want to talk to her, i want to hear her every thought and know what shes up to, even if shes just spent the last three days with me and i already know what shes been doing." alessia admitted, throwing her hands up with a huff.

"we try to keep a healthy balance of time with one another and apart, but whenever we don't spend the night together i don't sleep as well because i wish she was with me. we watch movies together on facetime for hours even when she lives five blocks away!" alessia rolled her eyes and leah snickered quietly.

"and i just-i've never cared so much for someone leah. and caring so much means if anything were to happen, it would hurt, a lot, and that terrifies me! it terrifies me how much-" alessia began but the older girl finished her sentence for her.

"-how much you love her." the defender spoke with a knowing smile as alessia gave in with a deeply troubled sigh and a nod of her head.

"but did i tell her any of that? no! i just said 'thank you' like she'd just made me tea not as if she'd just confessed her love for me!" alessia groaned again dropping her head into her hands as leah reached over to rub her back.

"well. then go and tell her how you feel less! before she thinks you don't love her, or that she's made a mistake by telling you she does." leah warned gently as alessia sat up properly and nodded.

she knew what she had to do.

~

"no i won't i'll just have to-" you paused hearing your doorbell go, a quick check of the ring camera your brother had insisted you have installed showing the very topic of your current conversation.

"hey liv? i'll call you back later." you cut your friend off and ignored her questions as to what was happening as you pressed end call, cautiously making your way over to the front door as the bell went again.

unlocking it you pulled the front door half open, mostly because it was freezing and you weren't too keen on letting the hot air out or the cold air in, but maybe a little because you were worried the blonde was here to break up with you for moving too fast.

"alessia? is everything alright? its late." you questioned with a frown of concern as the striker rocked back and forth on her feet, hands shoved deep into the thin grey adidas jacket wrapped around her.

"come on, you're gonna freeze wearing that!" you decided before she could speak, already seeing the hints of red creeping up onto her nose and cheeks as you opened the door wider and waved her inside.

"thank you." your girlfriend exhaled shakily as you closed and re-locked the door behind her. "theres been a lot of those going around." you didn't mean to say it out loud, but when the realisation that you had dawned on you your own face flushed red.

"i didn't mean to-" "no no, i deserved that."

you both shared an awkward smile as you cleared your throat. "do you want a tea? you're still shaking." you noticed the slight tremble in her shoulders and before she could even answer you were off to the kitchen as alessia scrambled to follow you.

"have you eaten?" you asked once you'd flicked the kettle on to boil, alessia nodding quickly as she stood hovering on the edge of the room shifting on the balls of her feet.

"you can sit down." you cracked a small but seemingly sincere smile, nodding to the stools by the bench as alessia did just that. "yeah i was round leahs for dinner." she answered your previous question as you gave her a look.

"isn't that the one you said can't cook?" you quizzed as now alessia cracked a tiny smile. "yeah well, i was round there for dinner but i cooked." she admitted as you both exchanged a shy glance and another small smile, not really having met too many of one anothers friends just yet.

a somewhat tense silence followed as the kettle boiled and you turned your back to the striker while you made the pair of you a tea, alessia caught up rehearsing what she'd come here to say in her head while you did.

"than-cheers." alessia quickly diverted making you hide a smile as you placed down the cup of tea in front of her and she exhaled in relief as her freezing cold palms met the warm ceramic of the mug.

"this is...perfect." alessia managed out after she'd taken a few mouthfuls. "i bought that sugar replacement you like, and i pinched a few tea bags from your place, and its got oat milk." you confessed quietly as alessia just stared at you.

"but you hate oat milk." "well yeah, but you like it."

those words left hanging in the air you began to worry once again you may have overwhelmed or scared off the footballer but before you could even begin to think about apologizing she was up and out of her seat.

then without even a beat of hesitation her lips were pressed against yours, stomach tensing as cold fingertips held either side of your face and just like every single time alessia kissed you, you melted.

"i love you." the blonde pulled away and confessed suddenly, bright blue eyes piercing into yours which were wide with shock at those three little words.

"you don't have to-" you began to backpedal, afraid she'd only said them out of obligation but she was quick to shut you up with another kiss that had your head spinning and your lips tingling.

"i'm not. please, i promise i'm not." alessia shook her head quickly as all you could do was nod, the taller girls hands gently letting go of your cheeks as they shifted to place themselves on your hips instead.

"i love that you know how i take my tea perfectly. i love that you always come over with my favorite snacks. i love that even if i say i'm not hungry you know to order extra because i'll eat yours." alessia started, a soft smile curling into your features at her words.

"i love that our days are so different because it means we don't run out of things to talk about. i love the way your nose twitches whenever you're trying not to laugh, and i love the way you sound when you do." alessia continued, squeezing your hips gently.

"i love that whenever you buy flowers at the markets you take like half an hour choosing which bunch is best. i love that you always fall asleep during movies even when its your turn to pick. i love that you hate cooking but love to clean up because i love cooking and i hate cleaning up!" alessia grinned as you let a small laugh escape.

"i love when you wear my clothes or my kits with my name on the back, i love when we fall asleep on facetime and i still get to wake up with you. i love when you get those little frown lines after pouting about something ridiculous." alessias voice softened as she stepped even more into your space, her face a hairs breadth away from yours.

"i love that you've shown me what it feels like to be loved for exactly who i am, how i am and in a way i never even thought i could have. i love that i want to be the best possible person i can for you and make you feel just as loved and as seen as i do. i love you, all of you, and i'm so so sorry i didn't say it back." alessia practically whispered the last few words, a deep frown of remorse present in her features as you reached up to smooth out her eyebrows gently with your thumbs.

"i'm sorry ive been avoiding you and cancelling plans, i was just worried i came on too strong and i'd scare you off." you admitted, hands resting either side of her face which shook rapidly from side to side.

"never. i promise, i just-all of this, you, the thought of ever losing any of it, scared me and i got overwhelmed and weird and i-" now it was your turn to shut her ramblings up with a kiss, tracing shapes softly against her cheekbones.

"its okay less, really." you promised, the striker visibly sagging with relief and you couldn't help but laugh as her taller form came tumbling into yours, arms wrapped tightly around one another as she pressed her face into your neck.

"thank god." you felt her grumble as you smiled, sneaking a hand up her jumper and rubbing up and down her back as her own hands mirrrored the motion on your sides.

"less?" "mm?" "this is very cute but you're sort of squashing me into the counter top." you admitted with a slight wince as the edge of it rammed into your back further with each passing second.

"sorry!" the blonde leapt away from you with wide eyes as you pushed off and assured her it was fine, a few more pecks and sweet words exchanged before you nodded for her to finish her tea before it went cold, the pair of you migrating to the living room.

"where are you going?" her hand clutched at your top as you didn't join her on the sofa. "to get a blanket, your hands are still like ice russo." you laughed, her grip never loosening.

"no need." the striker shook her head, pulling you down practically on top of her, empty mug sat on the coffee table as she wiggled and wriggled until she seemed to find a comfortable enough position with you laid half on top of her and half between her legs.

"alright then?" you snickered at the manhandling as your girlfriend nodded happily, gesturing for you to grab the remote. "is this your way of asking to stay over?" you teased, leaning forward to grab it and settling yourself against her again.

"maybe." alessia grinned, ducking down to steal a kiss which you were more than happy to give her, flicking on the television and leaning your head on her shoulder, her hands messing about with your hair.

"i love you." alessia spoke once you'd both agreed on a film, one hand moving to tilt your head back to properly look at her, a face filled with adoration staring right back down at you.

"thank you baby." you reached up to gently pat her cheek, turning back to the opening credits as alessia scoffed. "fine, guess i deserved that." the striker mumbled, though as seconds passed you could almost feel her stroppy look burn through the top of your head.

"i love you too." you eventually gave in, alessia sighing dramatically with relief, not clocking you now had your mug of tea in your hands as she jerked her body a little too fast to pepper your face with kisses.

"oh less!" you moaned as the hot liquid sloshed all over you and you sat up, almost headbutting the poor girl whose face flushed red with embarrassment.

getting up to change your top you were stopped as her hand grabbed your wrist and you raised an eyebrow curiously. "well since i'm so cold and you're now all wet..." alessia nodded with a suggestive smile in the direction of the bathroom as you met her with a grin.

"last one there gets the left side of the bed and the extra pillow!" your girlfriend announced, already on her feet and racing off as you gasped and sprinted after her.

"alessia thats not fair thats my side and my pillow!"

[hellfire--cult]

Actor!Steve Harrington x BFF!Fem!Reader

wc: 15k

Summary: Your best friend asks for a huge favor when an extra calls out a day before filming a scene. A kiss scene. You have never been in front of a camera, unlike him, so you ask if you could practice... and also test the waters because you never kissed your best friend. The man you've been in love with for the past years.

+18, friends to lovers, idiots in love, steve is not that famous yet, lots of friendly banter, reader is a bit self conscious, kissing, smut, p in v (protected), 69, handjob, fingering, a little bit of dirty talking

a/n: this wip has been in my docs for months. I recently got back to it and finished it in just days. It was supposed to just be the smut, but as always, your girl can't help herself. Thank you @andvys and @ghost-proofbaby for proofreading, god knows that if i do that myself i would just delete it all.

Please reblog. Be kind.

NOT JUST AN EXTRA

“Absolutely fucking NOT!” 

Steve knew you would react like that, it wasn’t a small favor, he also knew that. Your eyes were wide, bewildered, looking at him as if he had grown a second head or a palm tree at the top of it with a monkey dangling from a leaf. He could only sigh as he shook his head at you.

“Come on, you’re gonna get paid, and we’re tight on time to do an audition for this. It’s just a few seconds, ten tops!” You gritted your teeth together as you crossed your arms over your chest. He winced, knowing you were about to increase the tone of your voice. He knows you too well, you aren’t his best friend for nothing.

“Ten seconds! Ten seconds of me being on the big screen for the first time!” You yelled and he closed his eyes and nodded.

“I know, I know–” He opened his eyes to look into yours, pleading, begging. “I– It’s just that small scene. Small, tiny, and we can do it fast.”

He could see how your eyes showed how you wanted to blow him off, but also the tenderness of caring for your best friend. Eyes he always appreciated. Eyes he adored. Eyes he loved with all of his heart. You rubbed your forehead in thought as you looked down at the floor.

“I– Are you sure you can’t get someone else?” You asked and he sighed, shaking his head. Steve’s hope started rising as you deliberated until you finally looked up at him and nodded. “Okay… Okay… Fine.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around your frame, squishing you and lifting you up to twirl you around. You squealed, a giggle escaping your lips, a shenanigan he never stopped doing everytime you did something he was happy about. Since middle school, he twirls you around whenever he is proud, delighted, or you help him with stuff.

You’re put back on your feet, shaking your head as you take a step away from him, a smile on your face, but you notice a nervous chuckle come out of his lips. You frowned because wasn’t he happy? He cleared his throat and nodded once more, looking down at you.

“Alright– I will talk to James to tell him you’ll do it–” And something was not right. He was nervous, you noticed it, so you squinted at him.

“Steve… What’s the scene about?” 

He let a choked laughter out, a fake one, rubbing the back of his head. You felt a certain anger growing inside of you as you looked at how he was reacting. You tilted your head, waiting for him to stop being stupid for a second.

“Um… Well, you see… It’s just– It’s just this small scene–” You glared at your best friend as he kept rambling. You know that when Steve is nervous he rambles… or when he is about to ask for a big, big, HUGE, favor… One you might not like.

“And what is my part in this scene?” You pressed on as he cleared his throat and looked down as he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t hear, making you frown. “What did you say?”

“It’s… and well…” You still couldn’t hear him, your irritation only growing each second as you started tapping your foot on the floor. 

“Speak clearly Steve, stop mumbling, or I swear to god–”

“We have to kiss while you pretend to ride me.” 

And your mouth dropped at that as Steve saw how your confused frown turned into one of shock and your whole body froze on the spot. He gulped as he waited for your response, but you were still looking at him as if he had just told you the most shocking news there is to exist. 

He took a deep breath as he looked away for a second, still waiting. He knows he is asking too much. He knows it, he is not stupid, and he knows this was selfish. He is very much aware of how selfish he is, asking you to play this part but–

Steve just wants to kiss you at least once in his life.

While you’re still in front of him, mouth agape, you fail to notice just like you did all these years, how much the man you call your best friend loves you. You have failed to notice. How he looks at you, how he worships you, how he is willing to kill and die for you. How jealous he is of anyone that looks your way, how jealous he was of all the lovers you took, your ex.

And he knows you have failed to see his feelings, and he assumes that you have been unable to see them because you have never seen him in the same light he sees you. So, for once in his life he will take something he always wanted from you. A kiss. A simple kiss. Of course he wanted to do so many other things with you, but a kiss already means the world for Steve.

“I have to do what?” You asked as you stared at him and he took a sharp intake of breath and nodded, wincing as he talked.

“Yeah… That’s why I’m asking you because– It’s kind of an intimate scene, and I don’t really want to kiss a stranger they had to hire at the last minute…” He lied. He did many times before, but he needed the excuse, he just hopes you don’t see through the lie.

You could only stare at him for a few times as you felt your heart wanting to burst out of your chest. You would kiss your best friend. Intimately. Even if fake, you would still kiss him. After all these years of friendship, of shared moments… and after all these years of harboring this burning love and desire you feel for him.

Feelings you had buried, feelings you were managing to leave behind the closer he got to stardom. Knowing you would see him less, that he would start dating another celebrity sooner or later, that he would forget about you and that would give you the freedom to move on, despite feeling completely destroyed.

But you would have been free.

And now, he is giving you this chance. An opportunity you don’t want to miss, but it might just break you. Ruin you for anything and anyone that might come after him. A ten-second kiss, maybe twenty seconds if a second take is required. Perhaps you could fail the scene many times… get him for a whole full minute… 

It’s risky. Your heart is at stake, your feelings are going to be crushed after it, knowing you will never taste his lips again, or have him as close as you did. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t but you won’t ever have this chance again.

“Fine.” Your voice was small yet his eyes lit up the moment you agreed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, almost choking him up but he kept a poker face as best as he could. He forced a smile on his lips as he appeared relieved at your response, but that’s why Steve became an actor.

It’s a smile of happiness yet filled with sadness because Steve Harrington promised himself something if you agreed on this little favor of his—something that would rip a part of him, who he is and has been his whole life.

He would let go of you.

It was time to let this love for you die.

—-----------------------------------------------

You could feel yourself sweating as you scanned the document in your hand. The script. It was just one stupid action line, no words in between, just the description of what was happening in the scene.

Kristoff passionately kisses a random girl at a motel, and she is rubbing herself on him while they sit on the bed. He gets a call and the kiss gets interrupted. He excuses himself and leaves promptly.

“Seriously… random girl. That’s my name.” You scoffed as you threw the script on the bed while Steve sat cross-legged, at the feet of the bed. He looked at you over his glasses and he put down his own papers as he sighed.

“Well, it is just a random scene to reveal my character’s personality at the beginning of the movie.” He softly replies to you and you sigh, leaning against the headboard behind your head. You were at his loft in New York City—one that gladly remains hidden from the fans, and paparazzi.

“So your character is a playboy.” You smile at him and he huffs, shaking his head at you with a smile on his face.

“Yes, but then it is revealed–”

“Yeah, the trauma, the unloved boy, blah blah blah–” Your voice became muffled with an ‘oof’ as your face was squashed by a pillow being thrown at your face. You groaned as you pulled it off only to see Steve chuckling at you, biting his bottom lip that only made you gulp the nerves you didn’t know you were holding in your throat.

“Shut up. I mean… Mouse, this could be it. The one movie that will… skyrocket me to higher opportunities.” His smile faded slightly as your face softened… and your heart slowly broke. You knew this movie was going to be good, and you knew this was going to be the chance for his career to take off. 

Your time with him now is limited. Once this movie is out, you know the internet will go crazy over him. Fans will increase, paparazzis will be more insufferable, more interviews, more articles, more shows– And where do you fit in all that?

“I know… And it will be a hit, I just know it.” Your eyes went back to the script and you got hold of it again, pretending to scan over the words just so you wouldn’t look at him, just so you wouldn’t feel like you’re already losing him. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he licked his lips and tilted his head.

“How do you know?” He asked and you didn’t look up at him as you shrugged, letting your heart speak your truth. He was still your best friend, and the love you feel for him is still unconditional, and the words you say are honest.

“Because it’s you Steve. You are really good at what you do, and I know you will nail this role and all the ones that will be presented to you.” If only you would have raised your head, you would have noticed how his eyes were looking at you. 

Devoted. Whipped. Destroyed.

He gulped once more as he scanned you, and then he looked at the clock. It was getting late, but the scene was the next day and he doesn’t know if he should ask but–

“Hey, mouse–” But you interrupted him as realization struck you. Nerves ran all over your body, creating goosebumps, and then– fear.

“Steve… How do you kiss in movies?” He blinked a few times, and he shook his head a bit to center again as he grew confused at your question.

“Huh?” You felt your whole body beating, not only your heart. You never did this, not even on a stage. You never faked kissing before, you never acted it out. 

“You heard me! I mean, is it just lips? Pecks? Tongue? Do you fake the tongue? Do you not? Do you move a lot, or just a little? How do you know if you are overdoing it? Or what if you are not doing it naturally?” His eyes were wide as he listened to your outburst. You looked nervous, flushed, jittery… cute.

“Mouse, you need to calm down–”

“Calm–? Calm down!? You have kissed thousands of times on screen, this is my first time Steve!” His heart softened as he heard you, noticing your distress and how you scanned the line on the script over and over. His heart started picking up a pace as he felt the anticipation for what he was going to propose. 

“Well… the basic theory is to know what the scene is about… This one in particular, since it’s just the foreplay for sex, it can be just– lips moving rapidly, and maybe some tongue… It just comes naturally.” Your mouth fell agape as you stared at your best friend. He was being too casual about it, but of course he would be, this is his job and for you, it’s a world-shattering event.

“You say it as if it were the simplest of things Steve. I– Fuck, I shouldn’t have agreed, I’m gonna be so fucking awkward–” You put the script down, running your hands through your hair and Steve bit his bottom lip, not knowing if what he will say next would give him away, or if you are going to run off.

“We… I mean…” He stuttered, once again. Mumbling because of nervousness. You sighed and looked at him as he looked at his hands, playing with the ring that he still holds onto on his left index finger. One you bought for him when he graduated high school, while he gifted the matching one that resides on your right index finger.

“What?” You asked and he cleared his throat, looking up at you over his glasses, a nervous cough coming out of his lips as he tried to sound professional and not desperate.

“We can always practice.” Your eyes were looking at him as if he was the craziest man alive, but it was just because you were in shock. This means you would have two opportunities to kiss him. Today, and tomorrow when in front of the cameras. But– You can’t accept too quickly, even if you are excited, and giddy, and want to answer yes immediately–

“Practice? Like– Kissing?” He took a deep breath and nodded, hoping you would accept, hoping you would let him kiss you twice in his life, and he knew that he might be a little pathetic in his way of getting a kiss from you, but he didn’t want to lose you completely by confessing to you. He wanted to keep you in his life, even if you were his demise.

“Yeah. I can tell you when it is overdoing it and when it’s not.” He felt his mouth go dry as you looked away towards the sunset that was shining through his window. He inspected your profile, your beautiful profile. Your lips puckering out in thought, the expanse of your neck, your collarbone that peeked out of the V-collar of your T-Shirt. 

His heart was punching his chest open as his eyes kept moving, not being able to contain himself. Not being able to contain his thoughts from running wild at the thought of touching your lips for the first time. What it could be, what it could lead to… and it was probably just you scrunching your nose at the thought of kissing him.

“You… Don’t mind kissing me?” You still weren’t looking at him, not daring to look at his eyes, getting ready for when he tells you that it’s just work and that it means nothing. Not the way it does to you.

“Mouse, you are fucking beautiful. Of course I don’t mind.” And you didn’t expect that from him at all, and in all honesty, he didn’t even process the words coming out of his mouth just now, but they weren’t any less true. Your eyes slowly found his as your head turned to face him. The orange hues of the sunset hit his irises just right, making his brown eyes turn hazel, clear, and honey-like.

His freckles are basically sparkling at you right now, contrasting with the light, and his short stubble shining as well. He looks so beautiful. Just like that summer all those years ago, the summer you realized you were in love with him. He had only offered you some ice cream, and the sun was just like the one shining through the window right now. He was smiling, younger, and boyish.

And now, he is a man. Your best friend is a man.

“I’m happy to know you won’t vomit on my face the moment you kiss me then.” You giggled, trying to loosen the tension, to loosen your nerves a little bit as you tried to act as his best friend, the way you’ve always been. Maybe you should become an actress as well. He scoffed at you with a shake of his head and then he looked down at his hands, those big hands that grew from one day to another in your freshman year.

“And what about you? You gonna vomit on my face?” His voice was lower than before, and you licked your lips as you felt your body flushing. You suddenly felt smaller, and girlier, and you didn’t know why. 

“N-No. I’ll try to not repeat what happened when we were twelve.” He laughed at your words and you couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even if it was disgusting. He was spinning you around after you beat him in a hot dog-eating competition. He was happy you won, but he didn’t believe you when you told him you were feeling sick.

“That was on me. I deserved that.” His eyes found yours again and his smile faded slightly as he scanned your face. “So? Should we–”

“A peck.” You quickly responded and you wanted to curse at yourself. He tilted his head, confused and you cleared your throat, lifting yourself from the headboard to sit straighter, copying him as you crossed your legs underneath your body. “We um… should start with a peck. I mean… it’s like… uncharted territory. Kissing your best friend and all…” 

He felt his body sweat as he thought of just grazing your lips and he knew you were being cautious. If it’s too weird for you, you’re going to back out, that’s why you are asking for this. Trial and error. He always wanted to kiss you, even imagined you in the most obscene of positions, but– you haven’t with him. You were still looking at your best friend, the twelve-year-old boy who threw a slug over your head.

“Yeah. Let’s try that.” He moved the script away as he scooted closer to you. You straightened up the moment his knees hit yours, both of you still cross legged, just like you two always sat when telling eachother stuff, or gossip. Your heart felt like it was about to burst, but you had to act as if this meant nothing. As if this didn’t phase every single cell of your body.

You licked your lips in anticipation as you rested your palms on top of your knees. His hands slowly pressed on top of yours as he looked at you over his glasses. Your eyes gazed at his lips momentarily and his eyes did the same with yours. Years of oblivious pining over one another, and you two didn’t know it, didn’t notice it, because you’re two idiots. 

Belittling yourselves, thinking you two aren’t right for eachother, not good enough, or not even eachother’s types. You didn’t see what everyone else saw. How everyone bet behind your backs to see when you two would get together. When Steve would succumb and drop to one knee, or when you would simply profess your love for him. 

Yes, two oblivious idiots.

He leaned in, squeezing your hands for you to do the exact same, as if reassuring you it was alright. You followed his pace, leaning forward to meet him in the middle. You closed your eyes but he didn’t, wanting to burn the image to memory. He wanted to remember your eyelashes, the moment they fluttered shut, your breath hitting his lips, and then finally, his lips clashing with yours.

He closed his eyes then, so he could focus on the kiss. You knew your heart stopped in this second, in this small yet eternal second. Or two. Maybe three. You felt as if you were being lifted off the ground, clouds gathering around you, and you felt lightweight. A cold sweat invaded his body, or was it warm? He didn’t know, he just felt as if water washed all over him.

He tried to calm down, knowing his blush would show if he didn’t. He pulled away from the kiss and opened his eyes again. You blinked a few times, zoned out, and you straightened up as you realized you were acting nervous, or, rather the opposite. You were happy, or floaty. You gulped as you cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, or as normal as one could.

“That… wasn’t as weird as I thought it might be.” And he was relieved to hear that, yet also disappointed by the fact you thought it would be weird at all. He didn’t know it was just you playing the part. You wanted to lick your lips to see if you could taste him even further, but you knew that was to come now. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t.” His voice was lower than before, and there was a certain shift you felt in the air. Something that unconsciously was making your pulse go faster. He said it with… a certain tone that you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. He cleared his throat and tilted his head at you. “Ready to experience my amazing, expert, professional lips?”

You giggled, yes, out of nervousness, and trying to mask the fear, or the excitement. You shook your head as you looked at him.

“Oh please, we both know I kiss better.” You smirk proudly at him and he rolled his eyes at you.

“Eddie’s not the best to judge it.” You scoffed at that, squinting your eyes at him. You remember that night, Steve, you, Eddie, Robin, and Argyle drank in Robin’s room, and Eddie wanted to know who was the best kisser out of all of you. Robin didn’t indulge, but out of the three Eddie got to kiss, he said you were the best kisser. He said you were ‘tender’.

“You can’t keep saying that it’s because he likes women better than men, he is going out with Billy now, so my point still stands.” You sat there proudly, not noticing his fingers were slowly intertwining with yours over your knees. He huffed and then laughed, his head tilting to the side as his voice became low in a whisper, and he slowly leaned in.

“I’ll be the judge of that now Mouse.” It didn’t sound like your best friend talking just now. It sounded like a man talking to a girl he really wanted to kiss. Maybe your imagination is running a little too wild. You need to tell your hope to squash down just a tiny bit, or you will get hurt.

And now came the nerves. What if you overdid it now? What if you did it too roughly or too desperate? You have to calm down and let him lead. You will just follow, that’s all you have to do. You swallowed harshly, your eyes closing as his breath hit your lips, your hands tightening around his.

He could smell your perfume, and he was so nervous. He is nervous about being obvious, because, how does he stop the kiss from becoming real? How does he do it? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t. But he won’t stop even if a gun is pointed at his head right now.

His lips came in contact with yours once again, softly. You held in your breath as he exhaled when you kissed him back, your head pressing forward as well. His lips then smacked against yours as they moved once. You followed his movements, slow, and enticing, and you felt your body heat up instantly as your heart threatened to kill you at any second.

You were touching the stars and Steve was on the moon. He couldn’t believe he was kissing you, even if it was ‘fake’, he couldn’t believe it. You weren’t pulling away in disgust, and that for him is already a win. His lips started moving with more determination, kissing your bottom lip as you kissed his top lip.

The smacking of lips bounced on every wall in the room, and Steve felt the temperature rise inside of him. He could feel your fingers intertwining with his over your knees and all he wanted to do was to slide his hands upwards, slide them beneath the hem of your shorts, touch your skin, grip you, and mark you with his fingernails. 

With every tilt of head you both did in between the kiss, your mind kept sending images of what you wanted to do to him. How you wanted to push him onto the bed and kiss his neck, his freckles, his biceps, the scar on his belly from the time he protected you against a cat that for some reason wanted to kill you. Then you wanted to take him into your mouth, show him how much you grew up. How much of a woman you are. How a woman like yourself could please a man like him.

But your imagination is cut off when you feel him pull away and you open your eyes to see him looking at you already. His pupils were dilated, and he hoped you wouldn’t see them because of his glasses, which were a bit foggy because your nose bumped into them everytime you turned your head to kiss him. 

The tension was palpable around you two, and you wanted more, you needed more. Your breath was a bit quick, and you had to calm down before you gave yourself away. You straightened up once again, clearing your throat. His lips were plumped because of the kiss, and you wanted to kiss them again, but you just raised your eyebrows in question.

“Well?” You asked and Steve was kicked out of his daydreaming as your voice rushed through his ears. He chuckled nervously and nodded, biting his bottom lip in order to keep tasting you.

“Can’t believe Munson was right. You do kiss well.” You were about to give a triumphant ‘Ha’ but he stopped you by raising a hand towards you to shut you up with a smirk to his lips. “But I never kissed myself, so I don’t know if you are a better kisser than me.” 

Your mouth fell open at that, but he was right. You huffed afterwards, and you looked down, seeing your fingers intertwined with his over your knees. You felt your blood rushing through your ears and wanted to keep going. Would you sound desperate if you proposed to keep practicing? Would it give you away?

You pulled your hands away from him and he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Maybe he overdid it himself? Maybe you did get weirded out? Maybe it wasn’t something you enjoyed at all? Your hands grabbed the script again and he tilted his head, opening his mouth to ask what you were doing but you interrupted him first.

“Um… can we practice with the actual scene?” Oh, your words just sent him to heaven. You would sit on top of his lap. You would be kissing him and rubbing yourself against him– Oh fuck, you would rub yourself against him… or maybe you didn’t? But shit, he was already half hard from the stupid pecks on the lips and the innocent kissing, how is he going to be able to handle this?

And you didn’t have a hard-on to show it off, but you weren’t any less horny than he was. You knew that if you put the least bit of friction on the seam of your shorts and onto your clit, your wetness would sip through. He might notice, but maybe you just pretend to rub yourself? Maybe you just don’t press down?

He felt his veins pulsing, specifically the ones that coursed through his wrists. His fingertips were burning with the idea of being able to hold you the way he’d always wanted to do. His eyes traveled over your body until you looked up at him when you received no answer to your question. He gathered himself and nodded with a shrug.

“Sure…” He gulped as he threw the script to the floor and moved on the bed, his shirt riding up as he crawled and sat next to you. He pressed his back against the headboard and straightened his legs to lay flat on the bed. He patted his lap with an innocent smile on his lips which only made your heart stop. “Hop on.”

You pretended to be annoyed by him, rolling your eyes, pretending you weren’t about to pass out right then and there. You uncrossed your legs and moved to throw one knee over his lap, landing next to his hip. Your eyes connected with his as you hovered over him, not wanting to press down.

“Um… should I…–” Your words were small, not really knowing what to do with your posture. His hands hesitantly grabbed your hips and guided you to sit on his thighs, avoiding his crotch. He hissed inwardly when you brushed over it for a split second, cursing at himself for how sensitive he was right now.

“There. Tomorrow they will ask us to do crotch to crotch though. The camera angle will move from the hips, towards our profiles.” You could feel your face catch on fire at the mere thought of rubbing yourself against Steve. He smiled reassuringly at you, his hands moving to your waist. “It’ll be fine. I’m a professional, you know that.”

“That does nothing to calm my nerves.” You rolled your eyes and he squeezed you slightly as you adjusted yourself on his thighs. You cursed inwardly when the seam of your shorts rubbed on you by accident, right on your clit. “What if you pop a boner for me, huh?” 

“And what if you get dripping wet for me Mouse? I can’t see it but it can happen.” His words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he felt himself combust. He felt as if he were on literal fire. Your eyes locked with his over his glasses and you didn’t know how to react to it. He was right, but– is this something normal best friends say to eachother? You broke the tension by clearing your throat.

“You are too sure of yourself.” You saw how his tongue darted out to lick his lips for a second and you took a deep breath in as he pointed to the floor next to the bed.

“It will move from here–” and he moved his hand, passing over the end of the bed, over your thighs, both of your hips and then up towards your profiles, his fingers wiggling on the side of your face, “– to here.” 

“Got it… So…”

“Follow my lead, mouse.” You gulped the lump you were holding back as the butterflies in your stomach exploded, burst into flames, or they set an atomic bomb in there as he leaned close. His hands squeezed your hips as yours grabbed his shoulders. His nerves were a definite match with yours, completely out of control, berserk, but he was the professional here, he could pretend, even if it would leave a bad aftertaste.

His lips found yours again, making your breath hitch slightly, but you kissed back just like you have before. The seam on your shorts was pressing against you and now you really wondered if your wetness would sip through. What if it did and he felt it? You were far from his pelvic area, and you didn’t want to be obvious in looking down at it to check if he was as afflicted as you were.

Your lips moved together, your heart jumping in your chest while he was already bungee jumping off the empire state building. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, making him hum in the kiss and slowly pull away, making you open your eyes to look at what you had done wrong. He was smiling softly at you, his eyes darting to his right shoulder for a second.

“If you grab at me like that, your nervousness will show. Let your hands roam. Wrap your arms, or your hands can go through my hair.” He was being straightforward, but he was desperate for you to relax. He was desperate to feel as if this were real, to feel you close once and for all, to feel you against him and for your nails to rake into his hair. 

You slowly nodded, trying not to feel your entire body burning at the prospect of messing your best friend’s hair with your fingers. You took a deep breath in as you stretched your fingers over his shoulders and gave him a nod. His eyes darted to your lips again before leaning back in, kissing you once more.

You let your hands rub his shoulders, and you thought that, if this had to be as natural as possible, then you should just kiss him the way you always wanted to. If it is too much, you can just play it out that this is how you normally kiss. Giving yourself one last push of encouragement, you moved your lips against him, your hands moving to the back of his neck and then up into his hair. You have played with Steve’s hair many times before, but never in this manner. You want to pull on it, you want to rub yourself on him, but you have to keep yourself in check before you give your true intentions away too easily.

Steve on the other hand, he was being way too cautious and you were driving him fucking insane. He doesn’t know how he is capable of holding himself back but he is trying, and finding himself slowly failing at each scratch you do on his head. It was more than he bargained for, and now he is paying the consequences of it. He could smell your perfume, taste the cherry flavored chapstick you were wearing, the feel of your bare thighs under his hands as he rubbed on them, slowly, pretending this is how he is going to move for the shot of the next day.

Was it okay for him to have some hope by the way you were kissing him? Was it okay for him to just fuck this game and kiss you for real? Was it okay for him to think you felt affected as he was? For a while? All this time?

So maybe he just needs to take this chance. If you pull away, he can pretend he is used to doing his kisses a bit harsher, or something, he can do it, but he needs you. He fucking needs to feel your tongue on his. He turned his head and poked your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Your body flinched but he felt your body roll slightly against him, sending him into a mess of nerves and excitement when you opened your mouth for him. 

And when you felt his tongue going into your mouth to dance with yours, you knew you were gone. You are going to do what you always wanted to do, and for some reason, and it might be the temperature of the room or maybe his own body heat, but you think Steve might be feeling the same way you are doing right now. You could feel it in the way you have his hand running up towards your hips, the tips of his fingers going under the hem of your shirt, just a little bit.

So, you take the leap as well. 

You wiggled a little closer to his crotch, pretending to move to sit more comfortably, and that’s when you felt him. He groaned into the kiss the moment you rubbed yourself, slightly, over him. You weren’t fully seated on him, but you knew he was hard and was that a sign that this was okay? That this was something you both wanted? 

His tongue moved against yours, both of your heads turning as you kept kissing, rubbing, touching, not even noticing that minutes had passed, when the scene was only going to be ten seconds. Then, he suddenly pulled away, breathless, and you feared for the most until he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Closer.” And you only nodded, his hands helping you move to fully sit on him, your chest against his, and you couldn’t even gasp that his lips were on yours again the moment his bulge came in full contact between your legs. 

He was letting himself be guided by his lust and his love for you. He couldn’t let you go, not when you are giving him all the green lights there are. You could have questioned him just now, told him no, that it was too much, but you just nodded and followed with nothing to say. He hoped he wasn’t misunderstanding anything, but fuck, you were rubbing against him. You could fully feel his hard on and instead of shying away, or jumping up in disgust, you were rubbing yourself even more against him.

His hands travelled upwards, going underneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers touching your bare waist, sending shivers down your spine, the butterflies multiplying in your belly as the heat he radiates from his fingertips travels into your body. You could smell his cologne, the distinctive scent he’s been carrying for years now, one you detect the minute he crosses a door and into a room. 

Your breaths are heavy against eachother as you keep kissing, desperately, eating one another like you’ve always wanted to do to one another. His glasses hit you every once in a while at each turn of head, and the more you sway your hips against him, the more you forget the fact that this was supposed to be practice. He wasn’t supposed to be into it the way he is, and maybe… 

You slowly pull away from him, noses still touching, lips still brushing, breaths mingling with one another’s and you manage a small whisper towards him.

“Are we still practicing, Steve?” And that made him open his eyes to find yours. Their eyes, clouded with lust, desire, love, tenderness, and pent-up feelings, met. Feelings that can be talked and discussed later on. He pulled his head back and with a swift movement, you were now facing the ceiling as he got on top of you, settling between your legs. He ripped the glasses off his face and threw them god knows where as he planted his hands on each side of your body and leaned down, his eyes dark and determined, something you never thought would be directed your way.

“Like hell we are.” And you burst in happiness as his lips crashed with yours again. He could be just thinking of where to stick his dick in right now, but you’ll take it. This is being done rationally, sober, with complete consciousness. Your tongues met again, your hips clashed, and he began rutting into you, his bulge hitting your clit perfectly now at every thrust.

You let yourself moan into his mouth as your hands ran through his hair, your legs spreading even more for him to rut harder and he touched heaven the moment he heard your sweet voice react to him like that. You were accepting him, encouraging him and he couldn’t be more grateful to whatever god has heard him. He groaned into your mouth as a particular thrust sent a wave of heat all over his body, feeling himself twitch in his pants, and he knew his boxers were already stained with precum. 

He wasn’t going to last, and if he keeps rutting himself into you, he is going to blow his load in three minutes or less. He has been waiting for this moment for far too long, just as much as you have. Your belly was already burning with his dry humping, and it was becoming harder to hold your noises back.

He moved to rest on his elbows so he could move his right hand downwards, underneath the hem of your shirt. You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt his fingertips grace your belly, and then went upwards, touching the soft cotton of your plain bra. You weren’t expecting anything today, and now you were wondering if he would think you are too common for him. Not extravagant enough. Yet all doubts were thrown out the window when he pulled away, his lips pressing to the side of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw, and his voice mumbled into the skin of your neck before he started kissing it.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck– Tell me you want this Mouse, that you wanted this as much as I have…” Your breathing was jagged as he started sucking, licking, kissing your neck. You gasped when he hit your pulse point and pressed his tongue on it, making you press your hips upwards and into him. He just confessed to you he wanted you. He has wanted you for a while from what you could decipher, but questions could come later. 

“Yes– God, Stevie, yes–” No turning back now. The friendship was ruined, passed onto a better life. He hummed in delight into your skin, finally daring to move his hand to cup your breast. He couldn’t believe how dumb and blind he was. You wanted him. How did he not see it? Maybe he wasn’t the only actor between the two of you.

Your back arched against him as you felt him grope your breast, rub on it with his big hands. Hands you couldn’t stop staring at everytime he took notes down on his scripts or on his agenda. You had mentioned to him before his hands were ridiculously large, which only made him joke to you about how he never got any complaints about them. You have touched yourself to thoughts of those hands on you and now you get to live it. 

He sucked onto your skin, ready to mark you up finally, make you his. You were not pushing him away from it, or denying him from doing so, so that was a great sign for him. Your mouth was open as one hand was still tangled in his hair, the other dragging your nails on his back. You were letting out small sounds, little huffs, but then you felt his fingers go underneath the elastic of your bra, finally cupping your breast completely bare. He moaned into your skin when he felt your nipple perk up against his palm, and he immediately got it in between his fingers and pinched.

You let out your first loud moan of the night and that made him thrust into you quite desperately. He was going to cum in his pants. He can’t have that. He pulled away from your neck, sitting up and ripping his hand away from you, making you pout slightly. He smirked at how fucked you looked already, and all thanks to him. He crossed his arms in front of him and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one movement, his hair now more disheveled than what your fingers had done to it. 

You were flushed all over as you looked at him, his arms, his chest, his abdomen… his fucking chest hair. That chest hair that sprouted out of nowhere from one summer to the other and it completely made your hormones go a little crazy. 

“Am I going to be the only one getting undressed here?” He asked as a joke, yet not entirely. It was one last chance for you to step out. For you to go back to what you two were minutes before. You licked your lips as you sat up, taking your shirt off in front of him and throwing it away just like he did. He was still kneeling up in between your legs, staring down at you as if you had hung the stars for him. And that you did.

“Don’t be a crybaby.” Your voice was teasing and small, showing how nervous you were. You couldn’t help it. Steve had other experiences now, and you wondered if you could really compare at all. He gulped as his eyes ran over your chest, and he has seen you in your bra before. But those times cannot compare to what this means right now, because that bra will be taken off in, what he hopes, a few seconds.

He ran a hand through his hair as your hands ran over his chest, inspecting him, experiencing him. He moved his free hand to hold your cheek and make you look up at him. Your eyes were glossed over and he couldn’t stop himself that he was already leaning to take your lips with his as his other hand went to your back and touched the clasp of your bra, which made you jump slightly. He immediately pulled away, looking at you, his nose still bumping into yours.

“You okay?” How do you explain that you jumped because of your excitement and happiness? Of how sensitive you were because all your senses were heightened up because of him. How do you not sound in love? 

“Yeah, just got surprised, that’s all…” You gave him a peck of reassurance and he hummed into your lips, his hand moving to the clasp of your bra once again and in one swift movement of fingers, it snapped open. A pang of jealousy and anger hit you for just a few seconds until he pulled away from you, his hands grabbing both straps of your bra, his eyes glued to your breasts as he sat back, taking your bra with him.

And, well, Steve is staring. His breathing ragged as you saw how he dropped the bra on the bed, his eyes going left and right, not knowing in which one to focus on. He never saw your bare breasts before and now that he does–

“They’re so fucking perfect Mouse… You’re so perfect for me, jesus christ–” You couldn’t even process his words that he was making you lay back on the bed again, his body over yours and his mouth came in contact with your collarbone as his left hand held the back of your neck and the other your waist.

You sighed in pleasure when his kisses started moving downwards towards your chest, then moving to the right. The left hand moved from the back of your neck to rest on your right breast, nipple immediately fitting between his fingers. You were about to arch your back at the feeling, only for another sensation to override it. His lips on your left nipple. 

“Steve–” You gasped as your back arched towards him, your hands flying to his head, running your fingers through his hair to pull him even more into you. He loved his name on your mouth like this… And he wanted to hear you scream it. Cry it. Breaking through your vocal cords as he made you come undone.

His lips moved on your right nipple, sucking on it as he pinched the left one. He looked upwards to see you, his hair blocking his view a bit, but he saw how your head was thrown back on the pillow, mouth open as little breaths left it. He hummed into your breast and then he got the nipple between his teeth, and softly pulled on it, inflicting a bit on pain on you to taste the waters and–

This moan was your loudest yet.

“Oh, you didn’t lie when you said you might be a masochist.” And he remembers that conversation. A drunken night where he almost kissed you. You two talked about your sex lives but never in detail, that is, until you asked him if you were a masochist because you liked being spanked and choked, to which his response was, ‘yes’. Since that night, he had very graphic dreams that had you as their protagonist. The dreams were sweet and domestic before, and then, after that… they were pure filth.

“You remember that?” You ask breathlessly, smiling a bit as you feel him nod as he sucks on your right nipple. “I was embarrassed after saying that… my drunk brain thought it would catch your attention and blurted it out…”

“It did more than catch my fucking attention.” And with that confession, he rubbed his hips against you once more, proving his point as you felt his hard bulge still intact, if not, harder than before. You moaned as he tugged on your nipple one last time before changing places, giving the same attention to the left one as his hand kept grabbing your breast there.

“Oh, does it mean you’ve been having some dirty thoughts about me, Stevie?”

“Thoughts?” He chuckled against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he pulled away to look at you after giving a bite to the round of your breast. “Try dreams. Lots of them.”

The confessions kept pouring out, realizing this was more than just attraction. Both of you now know this goes beyond physical. Beyond wanting to try it out with your best friend. Beyond trying a new experience.

“What did I do in those dreams?” And you saw his face flush, leaving him speechless finally as you looked up at him. You bit your bottom lip as you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him to the side, rolling on top of him as soon as his back hit the bed. Your legs now straddled him, hips pressing against him, provoking a groan out of his lips. 

“You were like this in one of those, certainly.” Your ears couldn’t be happier to hear that. You couldn’t contain the smile that spread on your lips as you imagined Steve waking up sweaty to a fantasy he dreamt where you were the main lead. 

“Hmm…” And your eyes went down, looking at his belt. You gave yourself a mental pat on the shoulder for encouragement as you decided you wanted to engrave yourself into his memory. “What about this?”

His eyebrows met in the middle as you moved from his pelvic area to rest on his thighs. Only then his eyes widened, when your fingers unbuckled his belt, then undid the button of his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He twitched only by the grace of your fingers over the expanse of his bulge. Oh, fuck.

You were biting your bottom lip with need as your fingers hooked in the hem of his pants and boxers. You were going to do it. You were going to cross the line. A line you were terrified of since the moment you discovered you felt physically attracted to him. One thing is to be only feeling something emotional over someone, but once you start having physical attraction to them, you know a line is suddenly drawn between the two of you.

His breathing hitched in his throat as you started pulling his clothes down. He raises his hips up in order to help you, the nerves flying all over his body, a bit of self consciousness running through his veins as he looks at the ceiling, wondering if you would think it’s weird, or too much, or too little. He never received any complaints but, who knows? This was you. He had to be perfect for you. 

But he couldn’t be more wrong. The moment he came out from his boxers, his shaft slapping on his belly as it bounced out, and your mouth fell open. You– You knew Steve could be big. You’ve ogled him, multiple times. In his gym shorts, in his swimming trunks, in his underwear whenever he was getting ready in front of you, and you caught sight of it having a little hard on just very few times. Your imagination gave it no justice.

“What the hell Steve…”

“What– What’s wrong?” His eyes found your face which was locked on his cock, and worry filled his brain as he thought you were looking at him in disgust or something. But, actually, your mouth was salivating. You were put in automatic pilot as you shuffled downwards, your thighs now straddling his shins. 

Your hands rubbed on his inner thighs, making him choke on his breath, and you saw how his shaft twitched at your touch. You clenched around nothing as you anticipated how he would sound with your lips wrapped around him. Fantasies of him moaning your name as you showed him just how much you wanted him, now, about to become a reality. 

Your upper body bent down, his eyes widening when he saw you let a blob of spit fall from your lips and onto the tip of his cock. He saw how it dribbled down his shaft and before he could stop you, your hand wrapped around him. He sighed instantly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he gripped the sheets beneath him. Fuck– Fuck, how can he stop you now? 

“You’re so big…” Your voice was sultry, low, filled with pure lust and he noticed it. You were talking to his dick, not him. All his worry about how it looked was thrown out the window, but when you started moving your hand up and down on him, slowly, another worry filled him, and that was that he was going to cum in just a few strokes if he didn't concentrate.

“Baby–” He called out your name, but then he felt your thumb press onto the tip and then pass it on his frenulum which sent a jolt of electricity all over his body. “– Oh god.”

You were relishing in his sounds. You looked up to see his head thrown back, the veins and freckles on his neck being the stars of the show for you. He looked so good right now and you were flushing all over just by giving him pleasure. You looked back down, and your body went downwards just a little bit more, and you lolled your tongue out. A growl was torn out of him as you licked his tip, slotting it right into his slit before kissing it.

You were sucking him off. You were going to suck him off and oh my god, he is going to die. Or he is already dead and gone to heaven. He sighed in delight as he felt your mouth engulf the head of his cock. Your pretty cherry-flavored lips that will now have his taste, smearing your spit all over him. You hummed in delight as you went further and he had to grip onto the sheets as he closed his eyes, taking his mind far away so he wouldn’t blow his load right now.

You could hear his grunts, how he was holding himself back as your left hand was on his hip for leverage while the right one helped you engulf the places your mouth couldn’t reach. You let your mouth salivate around him as you started bobbing your head up and down, slowly, slightly twirling your head from side to side, while your right hand jerked him up everytime your mouth went up.

“Oh– Fuck–” He drapped an arm over his eyes as his back arched a little bit off the bed at a specific tongue press along the shaft. You want more of that, you want more of Steve breaking underneath you, so you quicken your movements, just a little bit. His breathing turned heavy and you looked up to see his chest heaving, and you knew he was holding himself back from making noises.

You pulled away with a soft pop, making him take his arm away from his eyes and raise his head to be able to look at you as you kept slowly jerking him off. His cock was right next to your lips as you stared at him.

“Don’t hold your voice back Stevie…” His eyes rolled to the back of his head when you used his nickname in a situation like this. Goddamn, you had him wrapped around your finger. He shook his head as he sighed, his belly flipping at how your thumb slotted itself in the slit of the head of his shaft.

“It’s not that– It’s– I’m not going to last if you keep sucking me off, and to be honest? I want to fuck you stupid, Mouse.” Your mouth fell open at that, suddenly flushed all over at his dirty words, at the dirty talk you never thought would be directed your way. It made him smirk, and an idea popped up in his head. “– But… I do want to taste you as well.” 

You tilted your head as he slowly moved his hands to grab your hand and one touched your cheek. He nodded upwards for you to pull away from him.

“What–”

“Turn around. Shorts and panties off.” You felt your heart in your throat as you gulped, his eyes dark, never leaving your figure as you climbed off the bed in order for you to do as he commanded. As you did that, he took the opportunity to take the rest of his pants and boxers off, throwing them to the side. You bit your lip as you pulled the button in your shorts open and then pulled the zipper down. 

You would be completely naked to him right now. You two would finally cross the line, completely. He would see you in all your glory just as how you just sucked his. You had to stop overthinking this. You had to. He wants you. You want him. And you could see how he was biting his bottom lip, how he was expecting this, how desperate he was to see you naked for the very first time.

So, defeating your nerves, you slowly pushed your shorts and panties down, not wanting to show the bland cotton panties to him, but you made a show of sticking your ass out a bit as you swayed your hips to take off your clothes. His head rolled back as he let out a groan, and you saw how his dick twitched at the sight of you and you wanted to smile at the small win. 

You were naked. He was naked. You were both naked. You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment with both your hands. It was still Steve. Steve who came to your house to play in the tree house in your garden. Steve who climbed into your room whenever his mom and dad fought and he wanted to get away. Steve who helped you get your first part time job with him at Scoops where you two met Robin. 

And it was the man you have loved for the past years. 

“Hey– We don’t have to–” He was looking at you worriedly, feeling as if you had realized what was about to happen but you cut him off by jumping towards him, getting on top of him and kissing him on the lips to steal his breath away.

“I’m just nervous…” You confessed and he smiled at you, caressing your cheek as he nodded, completely agreeing with you.

“Me too… and if it’s too much–” And you shook your head at him, biting your bottom lip as you kneeled up, towering all over him. His heart picked up a pace once again as he saw how you turned around, your ass in full view for him and he couldn’t help but sigh dreamily. “God… I want a picture…” 

“Steve!” You giggled as you looked down at his length, still hard and waiting, despite the sudden interruption the two of you just had. You took a sharp breath in so you could gather up the courage and you started moving backwards, Steve’s abdomen starting to show the more you moved.

“Can you blame me?” He was already becoming pussy drunk the more your center came closer to him. His hands rubbed the back of your thighs, and then he smacked your right cheek with his hand, making you jolt and gasp, your pussy clenching around nothing. He smirked at the reaction, his hands grabbing onto your hips as you looked down at his red tip, begging for attention, twitching for it.

“S-Stevie…” He groaned, looking up at your glistening folds. Something he has dreamed of doing so many times. He couldn’t wait for you, to taste you, to finally make you scream. He needed to hear you. He needed to let you know just how good he can worship you, and how good he can make you feel. 

“Lower on me, baby, I can take it. I can take whatever you give me.” His words came from his heart because he didn’t even process them. Not that they weren’t any less true. You felt his hands gripping your hips, pressing on you so you would finally move down towards him. You took a deep breath in, and you moved your hips downwards, your hands gripping his thighs in anticipation. 

Steve could smell you and it was delightful. He is going to become addicted to you. He already was, but this would seal the entire deal. He couldn’t wait anymore, and his head left the pillow, raising up so he could dart his tongue out and finally lick in between your folds, taking a gush of your slick with him. You shivered on top of him, letting out a sigh out of your pretty lips and his eyes closed as he tasted you.

You were sweet, everything he needed and desired in one simple lick. You were the most delicious and addicting thing he has ever tasted. More than nicotine, alcohol, candy itself. You were perfect. You gasped, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs as you felt him lick at you, slurping your slickness away.

“So delicious… please…” He was begging for you to lower down, and after having a bit of what he could offer, your body lowered, his head laying back down on the pillow as your cunt slotted over his mouth. He smirked right before he darted his tongue out to rub it against your clit and then your folds. Your back was arched as you leaned down, moaning as you felt him all over, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. 

He groaned into your folds as your hand wrapped around him again, pumping him for a few seconds before he felt your hot mouth all over the head. You could feel the vibrations of his noises when you started taking him in your mouth, and then moving up and back down. It was making you feel so good. He was making you feel so fucking good. Your Stevie.

You moaned into his cock when he slapped your thigh, the sound echoing throughout the room and he sighed as he felt your moan vibrate all over. He kept licking you away, slurping on your clit thanks to how you were arching your back against him. You were giving him great access to that sensitive button of yours and he was having the time of his life tugging at it, making you cry out a few times as he felt your body tremble on top of him.

He jerked his hips upwards when you went a little further with your mouth, taking him even more. He was surprised and he stopped lapping at your center for just a second, trying to gather up his thoughts once again. You gagged, pulling up from him slightly, but continuing to suck him off. He had to distract you. He had to make you stop because if you didn’t he was going to finish. It’s been an ongoing battle with himself all night, and he was not going to give up now.

He decided to hold your ass cheeks, spreading them and then he entered his tongue inside of you. You pulled away from him with a gasp, the side of your face falling to a rest on his left thigh as you kept pumping him right in front of you, your chest against his abdomen. 

“S–Steve–!” You couldn’t believe how thick his tongue was. Everything was overwhelming you, and you couldn’t keep your mouth on him because you just needed to moan. Your hand was still jerking him off and even if he was delighting himself with his tongue inside of you, he had to keep distracting you. 

He moved one of his hands, elbow bent between your legs and bicep against his chest in order to aim properly into your core. He pulled his mouth away from you, letting you catch your breath, only for then to be completely washed over by a gasp when you felt two of his fingers sliding over your folds, gathering up your slick in order to lube them up. Those fingers you always fantasized with. Fingers you pretended you were fucking instead of your own. 

“Pretty. My pretty girl.” His praises were coming out of his mouth nonstop. Your mouth fell open and your hand stopped moving on his cock as you felt him invade your cunt with two of his fingers. His index and middle finger, in the position of a finger gun. This will give him better access to that special spot of yours, considering the position you two were in, but fuck, his dick twitched in your frozen hand when he felt just how warm you were inside. He felt it with his tongue, but with his fingers, it felt like something else entirely.

He wanted to give you the utmost pleasure, and he knew he was succeeding by how still you stayed on top of him, cunt a few inches away from his face, seeing his fingers start to slowly pump in and out of you. He could hear the squelching, oh fuck. Maybe he is just going to cum like this. He might cum just by fingering you and listening to your sweet little moans and sighs.

You were drooling on his thigh, and you didn’t have the power to care. You were feeling good as he changed the pace and started literally fucking his fingers into you, making you choke on your own moans. You couldn’t even move your hand on him, too distracted as he kept moving his fingers in and out of you, and when you tried to move your hand, you felt him press his ring finger against your clit, rubbing it back and forth as he finger fucked you.

“Oh Stevie–” You couldn’t help the moans you were letting out, pornographic, and it was everything Steve ever wanted. For you to moan his name this way. For you to come undone under his touch. 

“You feel good, baby?” You nod against his thigh, as your eyes remain closed, your hips starting to slowly sway against his thrusts. “Oh fuck, yeah, move against me, that’s it–” 

He couldn’t help talking to you. He wasn’t very talkative when having sex, but you? You were bringing a new whole side of him. He wanted to know if you were feeling good, wanted to make you do things to feel even better, and most of all, praise you. Worship you. 

You raised yourself from his thigh, holding yourself up against it with your left hand, shaking on top of him as you felt him move his wrist slightly, hitting your G-spot even if slightly, but enough to make you cry loudly. Your right hand tightened around him, making him groan but he didn’t feel the intense burning in his belly any longer. It was there, but not as threatening. 

He smirked as he flutter around his fingers, knowing you were coming close as you kept fucking yourself on his fingers. Your belly was burning, tightening, your walls starting to clench as you decided to finally let go of his dick, slamming your hand on his right thigh, and now you were just riding his fingers. 

You looked so fucking perfect right now, and he couldn’t wait as he felt you clench even tighter around his fingers, feeling your clit throb underneath the length of his ring finger.

“I’m– Shit, Steve, please, I’m gonna cum– You’re gonna make me cum–” Your head dropped as you felt your belly starting to turn into itself and he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine, only for them to start rubbing against your clit, making you clench around nothing at all.

“Cum on my tongue. Come on. I want it–” And you felt his tongue immediately dive into your folds, swirling inside of you as his fingers kept working magic against your sensitive clit. Your breaths were coming out in short little gasps as you felt tears building up your water lines in anticipation and lust. You felt yourself wanting to separate from him but he held you close with his other hand, not letting you move an inch away from him.

“Fuckfuckfuck– Steve!” Your nails dug into his thighs as you finally felt yourself tighten all around his tongue, your hips swaying desperately against him, not even considering you might suffocate him, but he wasn’t. He was actually in heaven as he kept drinking you, rubbing your clit in order to help you ride your orgasm out. Your cries were of his name, moans he never thought would be as high pitched as that, and you just felt hot all over.

He has to make sure he didn’t cum just now.

You twitched on top of him as you felt yourself start to untense, unclench, and your nails let go of his thighs. You felt him still swirling his tongue and sucking on your folds, eliciting a small wince as you pulled your hips up. You gulped as you breathed heavily, scooching away from his face, his hands leaving you completely. Your knees were wobbly against the mattress as you pulled your leg over his legs in order to turn around and face him.

He was breathing heavily, your slick all over his mouth and jaw, even down his neck, mixed with his saliva. You covered your mouth as you looked at the view before you. He looked utterly fucked just by eating you out. A sense of pride surged inside of you but you still bit your lip as you crawled close to him, looking down at his face.

“Steve…?” 

“Holy shit…” He was all dopey smiling up at you. “I’ve wanted to do that since… forever.” 

“Oh?” You smiled as your arms felt like complete gelatin as you kept your body up. You looked down to look at his cock, seeing how hard it still was, biting your bottom lip to look at him. “Um… you… want me to help you?”

He raised his eyebrows at you and lifted his head to look down and thankfully, gladly, he didn’t cum. He smirked, wiping his mouth away with a bit of the bedsheet as he turned to look at you once again.

“No.” Your eyes shot up in surprise and you were about to talk as he rolled on top of you, his hands on either side of your face, his pupils completely dilated as he stared down at you. “I want to fuck you, if that’s fine by you.”

You couldn’t nod quicker even if you wished. Your heart was gone already, you didn’t even know if you still had a beat or if it exploded and somehow blood was still pumping, but, sex. You were going to finally have sex with Steve. He licked his lips as he reached over for his night stand and opened his drawer to take out a condom foil. He inspected it, his eyes squinting slightly, making you frown.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking the expiration date.” Your eyes shot up in surprise at his words. Why would he need to check that?

“I… Huh?” He chuckles as he rips the foil open with his teeth, making you stupidly clench like a bitch in heat.

“I don’t exactly bring many women. This is my house and… it’s where most of you are… I didn’t want to taint it. I didn’t want anyone else but you in here for this… kind of thing.” He chuckled nervously as he rolled the condom on himself, and you were just staring at him. He has been waiting for you, all this time. He wanted you all this time. He saved this place for you, even if you two were never doing this. Even if you two were just friends like an hour ago. 

“Steve…” He looked at you and connected his eyes with yours, a feeling of warmth invading the both of you, and you two knew this was right. This was meant to happen at one point or the other, you just were too blind or stupid to realize this. Your arms wrapped around his arms as he leaned down to take your lips in his. You could taste yourself in his mouth, and you couldn’t believe that it actually was turning you on. 

Your legs spread even more for him to slot easily between them, his hard cock rubbing against you, making the both of you groan into the kiss. Your tongue danced with his as you two danced around that line that is now a spider’s thread of silk. He moaned into the kiss as he kept kissing you, but he needed to be honest with you, in order to not disappoint, so he pulled away, his breaths heavy against your lips.

“I gotta tell you, I’m not gonna last… I waited too long for this and I’ve been holding back from cumming the past thirty minutes and–” You giggled and pecked his lips with reassurance as you nodded at him.

“Don’t worry… We can go again later…” That gave him all the encouragement he needed, which he really didn’t anymore than what he already had, to grab his shaft in order to guide it to your entrance. He gave you one last look and you could feel the joy. The same joy that resides in your chest, a joy that makes you want to almost cry, but it got interrupted as his hips started pushing in. Your mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape as you felt him stretch you out, inch by inch, and– fuck, his fingers did their best but there’s no comparison at all.

He groaned loudly as you engulfed him in your heat, slowly, and all he wanted was to slam into you, go crazy with it, but he had to be patient. He wanted it perfect. Everything has been going perfect till now, and it shouldn’t stop. It should never stop for you. Nor with you.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good, you feel so fucking good for me, Mousy.” His head fell to the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent, your perfume, and he placed a kiss onto your skin. And his hips were not stopping, already going halfway in but you already felt full. You couldn’t believe you could keep taking him but maybe you were just made for him.

“B-Big– It’s so fucking big, Steve, what the fuck…” You couldn’t help the curse that came out of your mouth, a breathy chuckle vibrating in your neck thanks to him.

“I’m sorry– Do I–”

“No, don’t stop, I’ll kill you…” And you would, and he nodded. He took a sharp intake of breath as he tensed for a second before he dove his hips all the way in, making you gasp as his pelvis finally slammed against yours. He bottomed out and you felt him in your throat. Your nails were digging into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to him. It wasn’t painful at all, it just felt like too much, and you felt yourself pulsing around him, trying to get used to it. He pulled away from your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up on your jaw, to then move to your left cheek. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was a whisper, concerned and you wanted to cry by how attentive he was over his own pleasure. You smiled even if he wasn’t seeing it and you nodded. “Tell me when I can start moving, alright?”

And you wanted to be brave and say right now, but you actually waited for a minute, and in that minute you knew this wasn’t a one time thing. A ‘satisfy your curiosity’ kind of thing. Because Steve was peppering your whole face and neck in kisses, soft little pet names leaving his mouth for you.

‘My baby. My sweetheart. Darling. My sweet. Honey. My love.’

And the last one was the one that caught you by surprise. It seems he noticed what he had done because the moment you opened your mouth, he started to move. A moan left your lips as he started thrusting slowly in and out of you, halfway out, and then in. It was slow tempo, yet deep, but not rough.

“Stevie–” You were letting out pretty sighs as you closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling him rub against your walls with each thrust. He cradled your head in his arms, looking down at your face, his hair falling over his eyes as the sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Perfect. Can I go faster?” It was a plea, a beg, the lust for you inside of him igniting once again, and with your nod, his hips started rolling quicker, a little further than before, making you moan louder, your head tilting back on the pillow, your neck being exposed to him, to which he immediately attacked with his lips.

He started listening to the slamming of his hips against yours as he sucked on the skin of your pulse point, listening to your moans and his dick was twitching nonstop. He couldn’t believe he was having you like this, that you were letting him have you like this at all. His sweet mouse. His sweet, perfect girl.

It was paradise. He was in paradise. You were in heaven. You two felt like everything made sense for the first time in your lives. Why didn’t you do this before? Why were the two of you so scared? Those are questions you two can ask eachother later because right now all you want is to finally let Steve rail into you the way he’s always wanted to.

And to do that, he had to pull away and kneel up, his arms leaving your head so his hands could grab the back of your knees. He looked down at you for just one second as his chest heaved up and down. Your eyes were filled with tears, your gaze finding his and as you opened your mouth to call for him, his hips started snapping into yours, the bedframe hitting the wall at each thrust of his.

You moaned loudly as your right hand shot upwards, holding onto the headboard, while your left one was in a tight fist in the pillow below your head. He was moaning your name as he saw your entire body bounce against his thrusts, and he could hear how wet you were as well. He growled as he felt his belly burn instantly at it, and he wanted to last longer, to have you in more positions, to make this night unforgettable, but he had a feeling that you would not care. It would be memorable no matter what he did or happened.

“Steve, you feel so good–” Your words were like sirens singing in his ear. You were making this very difficult on him as he started rolling his hips in long and deep thrusts, making you gasp and breathe out everytime the tip of his cock hit the deepest part of you, brushing against your g-spot perfectly. Your eyes were wide, looking at the ceiling thanks to how intense he was being and how much you were loving it. 

“Yeah? Tell me how much you love it, baby, I want to hear it–” He didn’t know where all this dirty talking really came from. He was still surprised by this. 

“I love it– I love it so much– I love you– I love you!” His eyebrows met in the middle as his mouth fell open, and he was done for. He fell forward as his heart exploded inside of his chest, and he knew you were cockdrunk and it came out of your mouth unwillingly, but the feeling was there and he knew it. 

You couldn’t believe you said it. You couldn’t believe what you just did but you just let yourself go and this happened. He fell forward, his hands caging your head between them as his hair tickled your forehead, his lips brushing over yours as he kept panting into your mouth, his hips unrelenting in their pace.

“I love you… Fuck, I love you too Mouse, so fucking much, you have no idea–” He kissed you, and you felt your stomach flip, your heart set aflame. “For so long, even before the auditions–” Another kiss and his hips became desperate, not letting you reply to him at all as your breaths were being knocked out of you, thrust after thrust. “-- You’re mine, you’ve always been mine.” 

Your arms wrapped around him again, your walls clenching around his length making him moan your name as he got his hand in between the two of you. His lips smashed against yours as his fingers came in contact with your puffed up clit. Your eyes widened when you felt overwhelmed with sensations, your belly coiling at feeling him brush your g-spot at the same time he rubbed your clit.

“Please, please– Stevie, you are so good–” Your praises fell on his lips and he had to hold on for a bit longer, just a bit longer. He could feel you fluttering all around him so he needed to make you cum around him. He needed to feel you. He was begrudgingly going to admit defeat on not making you cum again, but now, now it was a need. Now it’s a must. After your confession, it’s the least he can give you for having the courage he didn’t have.

“C’mon, one more… One more and I’ll cum…” You knew the climax was going to hit you sooner or later, but the fact Steve was feeling as good as you were feeling was just, making you go a little feral.

“Okay– Okay, pleasepleaseplease–” He didn’t know you were this vocal in bed, but he hoped it was because of him, and he was. You two were vocal and just with eachother. A detail you will learn later on. You felt him rub your clit a little faster than before and you threw your head back on the pillow as you dug your nails into his hair. He moaned as he looked between your bodies, seeing himself disappear inside of you as his fingers played with your soaked button.

He felt you flutter around him and fuck, he was going to cum. He can’t hold it in anymore but he can’t change the pace of anything. He can’t. He needs to feel you around him before he gets to cum. He wants to do it at the same time you do. He wants this with you. This memory. Your eyes widen when you feel your belly burning and your back arched towards him, your walls clenching around his cock.

“I feel you. I can feel you baby, come on… Come on–” And without further encouragement, you clenched tightly around him like a vice, which knocked the breath out of him, his hips stuttering as you came all around him, his name coming out of your lips in a cry of pleasure. He looked at your contorted face for a few seconds before his hips finally stopped and twitched when he came into the condom. You were still gripping him tightly, milking every single spurt of cum he had to give. He gave a few thrusts for good measure to help you ride your orgasm out, until his fingers stopped rubbing your clit.

His head fell, forehead hitting your chest as he breathed heavily, wincing as you slowly started to unclench around him, coming down from your high. He took his hand away from your sensitive nub, and he felt your heartbeat against his head. It was so quick. He is scared your heart will burst at any second.

You on the other hand, you were so exhilarated. You could die right now and you would go happily. Death could take you and you would tell it sure why not. A smile displayed on your face as your tight grip on his head softened, slowly starting to rub circles on his scalp with your fingers, which he responded with a satisfied hum. You were breathing heavily, and he was holding most of his weight up with his hands and knees, but you still felt him all over you.

He gulped as he raised his head from your chest, smiling at you as you connected your eyes with his. He kissed your chest once, then moved up and kissed your collarbone, then your neck, which was all marked up by him, then your jaw, and finally he pecked your lips.

“Hi Mouse.” You give him a content huff, panting into each other's lips.

“Hi, Stevie…” He smiled at you, clearing his throat as he felt his cock soften slowly, moving his hips to pull out from you, eliciting a groan out of the two of you. “Fuck…”

“You can say that again…” Your hands were still in his hair and he chuckled, pecking your lips softly. His heart couldn’t pump more blood than it was right now even if it could, but he had to ask. “Did you mean that?” “What?” He gulped and continued with his question.

“That you love me…” You blinked a few times and you bit your bottom lip as the nerves returned like a bulldozer.

“I… Yeah… for a long time… Did you mean it?” Steve smiled widely, his lips coming in contact to every inch of your face, making you giggle because it tickled in some places, and your heart never felt more warm than it was now. 

“Absolutely… fuck, baby, I– How could I not want you? You’ve… been with me even when I was a loser.” You rolled your eyes at him and giggled, shaking your head.

“You were prom king!”

“And a loser! I was an ass! And had no dreams! Well, except one.” Your eyebrow raised in question, wondering what he meant.

“What was that?”

“You. You were.” You felt your eyes fill with tears as the emotions overwhelmed you, realizing the two of you could have had this for so long, and neither of you acted on it. Made something happen, and it only prompted the both of you to waste time.

“You were mine… You are mine, Stevie.” A fond smile spreads on his lips as he leans down and kisses you softly, warmly, with the intent of a forever. And he keeps kissing you. He keeps giving you sweet words, until it's time for the two of you to clean up. The moment he gets up from the bed and you wobble to take a look at him, you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“What!? What is it!?” His eyes were worried as he looked at you, and you pointed at his body. 

“I– Oh, did I fuck it up!?” 

“Huh?” He tilted his head at your question, only for him to look down at himself and for his eyes to widen. “Oh… fuck.”

Your fingernails had scratched him all over. His shoulders, his neck, his back, his arms, his fucking thighs. He’ll get killed, or his scene will be postponed till these go away, though, he doesn’t know if he just wouldn’t forbid you from making more. 

But the next day, when the director saw the scratches on his body and the hickies on your neck, he thought it was natural looking. That the makeup artist did an amazing job on the two of you, and the director didn’t even know you two didn’t even go to the person in charge of that. You rolled out of bed because you were running late and you rushed to the studio.

You were happy to be here with him. That it took a practice kissing lesson to be able to be with him. You were nervous, but at least not in the way you were yesterday afternoon. Not in the way of kissing him and him thinking you were disgusting, or deciding it was a bad idea to ask you for this. You were nervous because of his career, because of how this could be seen by his fans, but– You cannot give him up now. Not after all these years of missing out. 

He wasn’t going to give up on this either. The moment the movie comes out, the moment this debuts, he will go on the carpet of his premiere with you by his side. He will tell everyone that the woman he kisses for ten seconds at the beginning of the movie is his best friend and the love of his life. He will show you off. He wants everyone to know who was there with him from the very beginning and through every instance of his life, even since he was a kid.

“ACTION!”

And the scene was done in one take, the director praising you both with a–

‘Good job you two! It felt natural!’

end

a/n: i want to be fingerbanged by steve harrington

[inkedbybarnes]

none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

junior.

synopsis: holding your child for the first time is always the first step to becoming a good parent. and…what now?

ft; itoshi rin, mikage reo, barou shouei

a/n: my tiktok is cryinggirlnamedhelen with a thanos pfp from squid game season 2. follow me if you want to.

itoshi rin

rin didn’t know how to feel about the cries and yells inside of the delivery room.

it wasn’t common for husbands in japan to stay with his wife during labor, so rin waited outside, pacing around with beads of sweat rolling down his temple. sae and rin’s parents sat on one of the benches while your parents sat on another, hands clasped together and mumbling prayers.

god, rin wasn’t even this nervous during the finals at the world cup.

stupid isagi and bachira had begged to come, and when they came, they just kept on asking what rin’s thoughts were on some stupid names for the baby that they had come up with. rin had shooed them away, and the two were now in the cafeteria, getting food for you when you would finally be done with the painful labor.

rin’s palms began to sweat; why was it taking so long? was it really normal for you to be screaming bloody murder in there? rin didn’t like hearing you in pain, not at all. each of your yelps and cries felt like a stab to rin’s heart. if he could be in there and stay by your side, he would in a heartbeat. but the doctors didn’t want him to be there, and rin trusted the doctors more than himself.

and finally, the high pitched cries of a baby erupted.

everyone stood up, and isagi and bachira came just in time with mountains of food on each plate that they held. the moment a doctor came out of the door with a smile, rin sprinted through the door and kneeled down by your side.

he placed a hand over yours, your skin pale and your breaths shallow, although to rin, you still looked like an angel. “rin. he’s healthy. he’s got your lashes.” a shaky smile made way to your lips before a doctor gently handed rin your newborn baby.

a tuft of dark green—almost black—hair was atop his head, and long underlashes that has been in the itoshi family for generations made way onto his eyes. rin felt his chest tightening, and his eyes began to water.

why did he feel so prideful of someone who he had just met?

the baby boy’s eyes opened; a bright teal, the color of sea glass. rin stiffened; was his kid going to cry? was rin holding him too tightly? did he fail at a father already?

but the small boy just smiled up at rin.

rin’s eyes gleamed, tears glossing over his turquoise irises like the most expensive porcelain china. “hey,” rin whispered softly. rin smiled gently when his son giggled softly. “you must’ve recognized my voice from when i used to talk to you through your mom’s stomach, huh? your mom’s amazing, she just delivered you through so much effort.” isagi and bachira stared from the doorway with their jaws dropped, although isagi’s eyes soon softened.

rin didn’t know why he loved this child so much. he didn’t know why a smile crawled to his lips the moment he saw him. he didn’t know why he felt the need to protect him forever. it scared him a little, but rin knew this feeling well, and he welcomed it.

after all, it was how rin felt when he had first met you.

mikage reo

reo once again winced at the sound of your screams, holding in even more tears and begging that your pain will end soon. once again, he asked his butlers and secretary the same thing as a few minutes again. “is everything there? her favorite foods? her favorite video games and snacks? her favorite movies? that one drink that the nurse recommended that was good for women who just gave birth?”

nagi, who was sitting on one of the benches and was dragged here by reo, replied tiredly, tapping away at his console. “reo, we just checked 3 minutes ago. they’re all here. even your butlers seem tired of this.” reo sent him a glare.

“reo, honey, you should sit. the nurses didn’t want you in there for a reason.” reo’s mother’s attempts at coaxing him were weak, and reo wouldn’t budge from his position standing right next to the door of the delivery room. “they knew that your crying during her pain would distract them.”

reo ignored his mom’s words. he had even tried bribing the nurses into letting him in before realizing that he really would just be a hindrance to deal with in the middle of trying to deliver a baby. a crying husband probably wasn’t a good addition to a screaming and wife.

suddenly, the screaming became higher pitched, more wet, more���alive.

your daughter was born.

without needing any confirmation from the doctors, reo shoved the door open and ran in, sitting on the chair right next to your bed that was placed by the doctor who had cleverly predicted his intrusion. “love, are you okay? does it still hurt? are you hungry? tired? how are you feeling? do you—“

“reo, im okay. thank you. and…” you weakly gestured to the nurse who held your baby wrapped in a bundle of purple blankets. instantly, reo stood up and took the baby into his arms, his eyes brimming with warmth.

“she looks just like you. she’s just as beautiful as her mom.” reo whispered, sitting on the chair again and gently cooing at his newborn daughter. he gently tickled her cheek with his pointer finger, and she giggled. reo’s heart melted and his eyes began to water again before he sniffled. “you’re like an angel. both you and your mom.”

reo’s parents walked in, discussing something about the future heir of the company, although reo ignored them for now. he’ll have to talk to them about how he wanted his daughter to follow her own path at another time. but for now, he just wanted to value this beautiful moment with his wife and newborn daughter.

nagi walked in, reading the room and shoving his gaming console into his jean pocket. he walked to you. “reo panicked a lot, and you screamed a lot. was it really that bad?” at your weak nod, nagi’s eyes widened a little bit. “wow. im suddenly really glad im not a woman.” a glare was sent from both reo and a few nurse.

reo glanced down at his daughter again, and his eyes softened, as if his daughter were the most precious thing in the world. “i love you so much.”

reo barely even knew this newborn girl for a few minutes, but she was always tied for the most beloved person in his heart: tied with you.

barou shouei

barou grew up with two younger sisters. he tolerated and loved them through temper tantrums, periods, puberty, boy heartbreak, and girl problems. he’s been changing their diapers, teaching them how to walk, feeding them, and cooking for them ever since they were infants.

so why was he so nervous about his own daughter, who was soon to be born?

barou didn’t tremble as he waited outside of the door, nor did he cry when he heard your wails and moans of unease. however, he was awfully stiff and overly snappy, even for barou. even when his beloved sisters tried to talk to him to ask about you and your soon to be born daughter, barou was practically already yelling.

when barou’s mother tried to calm him, barou couldn’t bring himself to reply, knowing that he would say rude things that he would regret later on to his own mother. he’d rather not risk it, and instead just nodded, trying to believe that you’re okay in there and that you’re trying your best, which he knows you are.

when the wails of a newborn baby daughter reached barou’s ears, he pushed open the door without even using the handle and instantly stood by your side.

“are you okay? was it too bad?” barou knew that he was being weirdly gentle, but how could he not when his wife just gave birth? you were pale, panting, and beads of sweat rolled down your face and neck, but you were still drop dead gorgeous in barou’s opinion.

“no, not at all.” you whispered. “you know what they said? they said that she’s one of the healthiest they’ve ever seen, maybe the the healthiest. you really did spoil and pamper me during the pregnancy, huh?”

“well, what else was i supposed to do? mistreat you? im not heartless.” a nearby nurse offered barou to hold his daughter, in which he accepted. same colored hair as him, and when she looked up, the same ruby red eyes as him. only difference? her eyes were soft and full of warmth like yours.

barou didn’t think that anything could ever be more perfect than you, but maybe he just found a tie.

[gottencents]

CAUSAL - Yu Jimin

part two.

pairing. mean girl!karina x star soccer player!reader

synopsis. at Changryeo University, Yu Jimin or just Karina is the ultimate “mean rich girl” — popular, wealthy, and always seeking ways to stay on top. After setting her sights on Sunghoon, the charming soccer captain, Karina shifts her focus to Y/N, an up-and-coming soccer star with an unexpected breakout season. Unlike the polished Sunghoon, Y/N is more of an outsider who got by on talent but doesn’t fit the typical college elite mold.

Realizing that Y/N is the only one who doesn’t care about the social hierarchy, Karina proposes a deal: they’ll fake date so Karina can boost her popularity, while Y/N gets protection from relentless attention. Reluctantly, Y/N agrees, and the two navigate a world of social manipulation, only to find that their fake relationship might lead to something more real than either expected.

Changryeo University was everything Y/N despised about high school, except on steroids. The social hierarchy was alive and thriving, fueled by wealth, good looks, and the kind of academic and athletic achievements that could only be purchased or inherited. Y/N, on the other hand, had gotten in on her soccer skills alone. And while she was proud of her co-captain status, it came with one massive downside—people were starting to notice her.

One of those people was Karina Yu .

Karina was the embodiment of every “mean rich girl” stereotype that Y/N had tried to avoid. She was the queen of Changryeo’s social pyramid, the head cheerleader, and the reigning queen bee. The worst part? Karina wasn’t just popular. She was strategic. Every move she made was calculated, designed to keep her at the top.

So when Y/N walked into the campus coffee shop one afternoon and saw Karina waiting for her with a smile that could freeze fire, she immediately knew something was up.

“Y/N,” Karina said smoothly, her manicured nails tapping on the table in front of her. “Sit.”

Y/N sighed. “What do you want, Karina? I’m kind of busy.”

Karina tilted her head, giving her an incredulous look. “Busy doing what? Pretending to ignore the fact that you’re the most talked-about soccer player on campus right now?”

Y/N frowned, adjusting the strap of her soccer bag. “I’m just trying to focus on my grades and practice. I don’t really care about all… this.” She gestured vaguely to the bustling café, full of students whispering and staring.

Karina smirked. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You can’t just ‘not care.’ You’re part of this world now, whether you like it or not.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And let me guess—you’re here to welcome me to the ‘world’ with some sort of deal?”

Karina’s smile widened. “Exactly. I knew you weren’t as slow as you pretend to be.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Here’s the thing, Y/N. I need someone who can keep my social status intact until graduation. Someone who’s popular enough to keep people talking but also low-maintenance enough that I don’t have to babysit them. You, unfortunately, check both boxes.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait… what?”

Karina sighed, as if she were explaining something painfully obvious. “Fake date me. You get everyone off your back—because trust me, no one messes with what I call dibs on—and I get to ride your… what do they call it? Soccer hype?”

Y/N stared at her, trying to process what she was hearing. “You want me to pretend to date you? For popularity?”

Karina rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. You get to focus on your precious soccer and grades, and I stay on top where I belong. Everyone wins.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Except I don’t care about popularity, Karina. And I’m not sure why you’re even interested in me. I’m not exactly your type.”

Karina’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “That’s exactly why you’re perfect. You don’t care about any of this. You’re not going to embarrass me by trying too hard or starting drama. And honestly? People love an underdog. It’s… charming.”

Y/N scoffed. “Charming? You’ve spent the past two years pretending I don’t exist.”

Karina shrugged. “I didn’t need you then. Now I do.” She leaned back, crossing her legs. “Look, you can say no. But I guarantee the attention you’re getting right now? It’s only going to get worse. And when people start digging into your past or spreading rumors about you…” She trailed off, her expression smug. “Well, let’s just say it’s easier to let me handle it.”

Y/N hesitated. She hated everything about this. But she also hated the constant whispers, the stares, and the endless stream of people trying to insert themselves into her life. As much as she wanted to tell Karina to take her offer and shove it, she couldn’t deny that it would be easier to let the queen of the social ladder scare everyone off.

“Fine,” Y/N said finally. “But I have a few conditions.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? Do tell.”

“One,” Y/N said, holding up a finger, “this ends the second I don’t need it anymore. Two, you don’t get to micromanage my life outside of this… whatever this is. And three, you don’t get to pull any of your mean girl crap on me. Got it?”

Karina’s smile didn’t waver. “Of course. I’m always nice to my significant others.” She extended a hand. “Deal?”

Y/N stared at her for a moment before reluctantly shaking her hand. “Deal.”

As Y/N walked away, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life. Karina, meanwhile, watched her go with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Karina murmured to herself, already planning her next move.

Y/N left the café feeling like she’d just signed a deal with the devil. What had she gotten herself into? Fake dating Karina Yoo? The girl who practically ruled Changryeo University with an iron fist wrapped in designer gloves? It sounded insane.

The next day, Y/N started to see the consequences of her decision almost immediately. She was walking to class when she noticed people whispering and pointing at her. Some of the cheerleaders giggled as she passed, and a group of guys from the basketball team gave her an approving nod.

Y/N sighed, pulling her hoodie up in an attempt to block out the attention. But just as she thought she’d make it to class unnoticed, she heard the sharp click of heels behind her.

“Y/N!” Karina’s voice rang out, cutting through the crowd like a knife.

Y/N froze. Here we go.

Karina strutted toward her like she was walking a runway, her designer bag swinging at her side. She was dressed to perfection, as always, in a tailored outfit that probably cost more than Y/N’s tuition.

Karina stopped right in front of her, giving her a radiant smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You were just going to class without me? What kind of fake girlfriend are you?”

Y/N blinked. “I—what?”

Karina sighed dramatically, looping her arm through Y/N’s before she could protest. “We’re supposed to sell this, remember? People are watching.”

Y/N glanced around and realized Karina was right. Half the students in the courtyard were staring at them, some openly gaping, others whispering behind their hands.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, awkwardly adjusting to the sudden closeness. “But could you maybe not treat me like a handbag?”

Karina laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’re not a handbag, Y/N. You’re an accessory. There’s a difference.”

Y/N groaned. “This is going to be a long semester.”

Later that day, the two of them walked into the dining hall together, and Y/N instantly regretted agreeing to this arrangement. The room went silent the moment they entered, and all eyes turned to them.

Karina didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, she seemed to thrive under the attention, walking with her head held high and a confident smile on her face. Y/N, on the other hand, wanted to disappear into the floor.

They made their way to a table where Winter and Ningning were already sitting. Winter raised an eyebrow as they approached, her expression somewhere between confusion and amusement.

“Wow,” Winter said as they sat down. “So it’s true. The queen of Changryeo has a new trophy.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Please don’t start.”

Karina, however, looked completely unbothered. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked at Winter. “Jealous?”

Ningning snickered, nudging Winter. “I think she’s just surprised. Everyone is. Y/N doesn’t exactly scream ‘Karina’s type.’”

“Hey,” Y/N protested. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Winter shrugged. “You’re not… polished. No offense.”

“None taken,” Y/N muttered.

Karina leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs. “Y/N is refreshing. She’s not trying too hard to impress me, unlike certain people.” She gave Winter a pointed look, and Winter rolled her eyes.

“This is going to be fun to watch,” Ningning said, her grin widening. “You two are so different it’s almost funny.”

“Almost?” Karina asked, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. It’s hilarious,” Ningning admitted.

Y/N groaned again, slumping in her seat. “This was a mistake.”

Karina reached over and patted her hand in an overly dramatic gesture. “Oh, sweetie. It’s not a mistake. It’s an opportunity. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

Winter and Ningning burst into laughter, and Y/N could only sit there, wondering how she was going to survive the rest of the semester with Karina Yoo as her fake girlfriend.

Meanwhile…

Karina was already planning their next big “date.” She knew Y/N wasn’t going to make this easy, but that only made it more interesting. Y/N wasn’t like the others—she didn’t care about status or appearances, which made her unpredictable.

For Karina, it wasn’t just about maintaining her social status anymore. There was something about Y/N’s unwillingness to play by the rules that intrigued her. Maybe this arrangement would end up being more fun than she’d originally thought.

But for Y/N, this was already a nightmare. The attention, the whispers, the constant proximity to Karina—it was overwhelming. All she wanted was to get through college quietly and focus on her future. But now, thanks to Karina’s scheme, she was front and center in the social spotlight.

And whether she liked it or not, there was no turning back now.

Y/N was convinced she was cursed. It was the only explanation for why her life had spiraled into this chaotic mess. Before the fake dating arrangement, she was invisible—just a girl who played soccer and tried to keep her head down. But now, every step she took was met with stares, whispers, and the occasional wide-eyed double-take.

Even her teammates had started treating her differently.

At practice the next day, Y/N barely had time to put her cleats on before her co-captain, Sunghoon, jogged over, smirking.

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “So, you and Karina Yoo, huh?”

Y/N groaned, already dreading the conversation. “Don’t start, Sunghoon.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he teased. “You’re dating the most popular girl on campus. You’re practically royalty now.”

“She’s not really my girlfriend,” Y/N muttered under her breath, lacing up her cleats.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sunghoon said, grinning. “You know she’s sitting in the bleachers right now, right?”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “What?”

He pointed over to the stands, where Karina was lounging in her designer coat, her legs crossed as if she were attending a fashion show instead of a soccer practice. She was scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to the curious glances from the rest of the team.

Y/N marched over to the bleachers, her heart pounding. “Karina!” she called, trying to keep her voice low enough so the entire team wouldn’t hear. “What are you doing here?”

Karina looked up, smiling innocently. “Watching my girlfriend practice, of course. Isn’t that what supportive partners do?”

Y/N resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. “You didn’t have to come. This is just practice.”

Karina tilted her head, pretending to be hurt. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

“Yes,” Y/N said immediately. “I mean, no! I mean—ugh.” She ran a hand through her hair, already regretting her decision to agree to this arrangement.

“Relax,” Karina said, waving her off. “I’m just here to make sure the other girls on your team don’t get any ideas. Can’t have them thinking you’re single, now can we?”

Y/N groaned. “Karina, no one on this team thinks that—”

“Y/N! Who’s your friend?” one of her teammates called from the field, cutting her off.

Karina turned and waved, flashing a dazzling smile. “Hi! I’m her girlfriend.”

Y/N could feel her teammates’ collective jaws drop.

“Oh my God,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Later that day…

After practice, Y/N trudged into the dining hall, fully prepared to eat her dinner in peace. Unfortunately, peace wasn’t on the menu.

Karina was already sitting at their usual table with Winter and Ningning. She waved Y/N over as soon as she walked in, her smile bright and attention-grabbing.

Y/N reluctantly joined them, sliding into the seat next to Karina. She immediately noticed the looks from other students in the dining hall. Some were staring openly, others whispering behind their hands.

“Everyone’s staring,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“Of course they are,” Karina said, flipping her hair. “We’re Changryeo’s new power couple.”

“We’re not a couple,” Y/N said quietly, picking at her food.

Ningning leaned forward, grinning. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N. Karina is selling this so well it’s practically an Oscar-winning performance.”

Winter snorted. “I’ll give it to her—she’s committed. But Y/N? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

Y/N sighed, slumping in her seat. “That’s because I would be.”

Karina reached over and patted her hand, her touch light but deliberate. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re doing great. And for the record, you’re lucky to have me as your fake girlfriend. Most people would kill for this opportunity.”

“Most people don’t have to deal with you,” Y/N shot back, unable to stop herself.

Winter and Ningning burst out laughing, and even Karina cracked a smile.

“You’re lucky I find your sass endearing,” Karina said, leaning back in her seat with a smirk.

A few weeks later…

The fake dating arrangement had started to feel like a full-time job. Karina was everywhere—showing up to Y/N’s practices, dragging her to parties, and insisting on coordinating outfits for their “dates.”

But the weirdest part? Y/N was starting to get used to it.

Karina was still Karina—bossy, overconfident, and annoyingly good at getting her way. But every now and then, Y/N caught glimpses of something deeper. Like the way Karina would soften when talking about her younger sister, or how she’d quietly help out a classmate who was struggling without making a big deal about it.

It didn’t make her any less infuriating, but it did make her… interesting.

One night, after yet another party where Karina had spent most of the time pretending to be the perfect girlfriend, Y/N finally spoke up.

“Why are you doing all this?” Y/N asked as they walked back to their dorms.

Karina glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

“This whole fake dating thing,” Y/N said. “You’re already popular. You don’t need me to stay on top.”

Karina was quiet for a moment, which was rare for her. Then she shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I just like having someone around who doesn’t kiss up to me.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You… like having me around?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Karina said, smirking. “You’re tolerable. That’s all.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

Karina smiled, and for once, it wasn’t calculated or forced. It was just… genuine.

Over the next month, the lines between their fake relationship and reality began to blur in ways Y/N hadn’t anticipated. Karina was still annoyingly bossy and dramatic, but Y/N couldn’t deny that she was also surprisingly attentive. She remembered little things, like Y/N’s coffee order or how she hated when her cleats weren’t broken in yet.

Y/N, for her part, started to see sides of Karina that no one else seemed to notice. Like how she’d subtly steer conversations away from Winter’s nervous stuttering in class presentations or how she always brought snacks for Ningning, claiming it was “just in case” but always ended up handing them over.

And then there were the moments when Karina’s carefully constructed mask slipped entirely. Like the night of the big soccer game against their school’s rival, where everything changed.

Game Night

The stadium was packed, buzzing with energy as Changryeo prepared to face its fiercest rival. Y/N felt the weight of the crowd’s expectations as she warmed up on the field. Being co-captain was no joke, and all eyes were on her to deliver.

Karina was there, of course, perched in the VIP section with Winter and Ningning. She was decked out in Changryeo colors, her designer coat somehow perfectly matching the school’s logo. She looked like she belonged on a billboard, not in the stands of a college soccer game.

But even from the field, Y/N could feel her presence. Karina’s gaze was sharp, focused entirely on her.

As the game began, Y/N threw herself into it, blocking out everything but the ball, her teammates, and the roaring crowd. By halftime, they were tied 1-1, and the pressure was mounting.

In the locker room, Y/N sat on the bench, trying to catch her breath. Sunghoon clapped her on the back. “You’re doing great out there. Just keep your head in the game.”

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, wiping sweat from her face.

But her focus was shaken as soon as she stepped back onto the field. The rival team’s captain, a cocky player named Minjae, smirked as he jogged past her.

“Your girlfriend’s got the whole stadium staring,” Minjae said with a sneer. “Must be nice having the queen of Changryeo cheering you on.”

Y/N gritted her teeth. She knew he was trying to get in her head, but it still worked.

By the time the second half ended, the score was still tied, and they were headed into overtime. The tension was palpable.

As Y/N lined up for a crucial penalty kick, she glanced at the stands and locked eyes with Karina. Karina gave her a small nod, her expression serious for once.

“You’ve got this,” Karina mouthed.

Y/N took a deep breath and focused. The world seemed to slow as she approached the ball, her foot connecting perfectly. The stadium erupted as the ball sailed into the net, securing their victory.

Post-Game

After the game, Y/N was mobbed by her teammates and the crowd. She barely had time to breathe before Karina appeared, pushing through the chaos like it was nothing.

“There’s my star player,” Karina said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Before Y/N could respond, Karina grabbed her face and kissed her.

The crowd went wild.

Y/N froze, her brain short-circuiting. When Karina finally pulled back, she smirked. “You looked like you needed some motivation out there.”

Y/N blinked, still processing. “Motivation? I just won the game.”

“Exactly,” Karina said, flipping her hair. “You’re welcome.”

Winter and Ningning appeared behind her, both grinning like they were enjoying the show way too much.

��Wow, Karina really went all in,” Winter said.

“I’m living for this drama,” Ningning added.

Y/N groaned. “You guys are the worst.”

Karina, however, looked entirely unbothered. She leaned closer, her voice dropping so only Y/N could hear. “Relax. You’re a hero now. Everyone’s going to be talking about this for weeks.”

Y/N glanced at her, a mix of exasperation and something she couldn’t quite name. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep agreeing to my plans,” Karina said, smirking.

As the night went on and the celebrations continued, Y/N found herself smiling despite the chaos. Maybe this whole fake dating thing wasn’t as fake as she’d thought.

Later That Night

Back at their dorms, Y/N sat on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Karina was perched on the armrest, scrolling through her phone.

“You didn’t have to kiss me, you know,” Y/N said suddenly.

Karina glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “It worked, didn’t it? The crowd loved it. You’re basically a legend now.”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s not the point. You keep doing all this stuff like it’s some kind of game.”

Karina’s expression softened, just for a moment. “It’s not a game,” she said quietly.

Y/N turned to look at her, surprised by the shift in her tone. “Then what is it?”

Karina hesitated, her walls cracking just enough for Y/N to see something real beneath them. “It’s… complicated.”

Y/N studied her, realizing for the first time that maybe Karina wasn’t as confident and untouchable as she seemed.

“Complicated, huh?” Y/N said, her voice soft.

Karina gave her a small, almost shy smile. “Don’t overthink it. Just… go with it.”

For once, Y/N decided not to argue.

“Alright,” she said. “But if you pull another stunt like that in public, I’m kicking your ass.”

Karina laughed, and the sound was lighter than Y/N had ever heard. “Deal.”

And for the first time since this whole thing started, Y/N felt like maybe, just maybe, they were onto something real.

The Morning After the Game

Y/N woke up the next morning to chaos. Her phone was blowing up with notifications—texts, Instagram tags, even a few congratulatory emails from professors who were clearly too invested in Changryeo sports. She groaned, rubbing her eyes as she scrolled through the messages.

Her teammates had turned the group chat into a full-on meme fest. Screenshots of Karina’s dramatic kiss at the game were plastered everywhere, complete with captions like “Changryeo’s new power couple” and “Karina really said, ‘My girlfriend won the game.’”

Just as Y/N was about to bury her face back into her pillow, there was a knock at her door.

She opened it to find Karina standing there, holding two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries.

“Good morning, star player,” Karina said with a smirk, pushing her way into the room without waiting for an invitation. She set the coffee and bag on Y/N’s desk before sitting on the edge of her bed like she owned the place.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked, still half-asleep.

“Damage control,” Karina said, scrolling through her phone. “Your PR image is my responsibility now, remember?”

Y/N blinked. “PR image? What are you talking about?”

Karina rolled her eyes, turning her phone to show Y/N the flood of posts on social media. The school’s official athletics account had reposted a photo of their kiss, and the comments were a mix of admiration, jokes, and speculation.

“Karina Yoo kissing Y/N on the field after the game? Iconic.”

“Never thought I’d see the day Y/N gets swept up by Changryeo’s queen bee.”

“Plot twist: Karina’s actually soft for her.”

“I thought Karina only cared about status. Maybe this is real???”

Y/N groaned, sinking onto her bed. “This is a nightmare.”

“It’s a dream,” Karina corrected, sipping her coffee. “The PR is gold. You’re officially untouchable now.”

“I didn’t ask to be untouchable,” Y/N said, rubbing her temples.

Karina tilted her head, her expression softening slightly. “You didn’t have to ask. That’s what I’m here for.”

Y/N looked at her, trying to figure out if Karina was joking. But her tone was serious, and for once, there wasn’t a trace of her usual sarcasm.

“Thanks… I guess,” Y/N said awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it,” Karina said, waving her off. Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Oh, and don’t forget—we’re going to that party tonight.”

“What party?”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “The victory party, obviously. The soccer team’s throwing it, and as your girlfriend, I have to be there.”

Y/N sighed. “Do I have a choice in this?”

“No,” Karina said with a smug smile. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”

“Gee, thanks,” Y/N muttered.

The Party

That night, the victory party was in full swing by the time Y/N and Karina arrived. The team had rented out one of the biggest event spaces on campus, and the room was packed with students. Music blasted from the speakers, and the energy was electric.

As soon as they walked in, all eyes turned to them. Y/N felt her shoulders tense under the weight of the stares, but Karina didn’t seem fazed at all. She grabbed Y/N’s hand, lacing their fingers together as she led her through the crowd.

“You’re doing great,” Karina whispered, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but didn’t pull away.

They joined Sunghoon and the rest of the soccer team near the bar, where Winter and Ningning were already waiting with drinks in hand.

“Well, well,” Winter said, raising her glass. “If it isn’t the couple of the century.”

Ningning grinned, nudging Y/N. “You look so uncomfortable. It’s adorable.”

“Glad you’re enjoying this,” Y/N muttered.

Karina, however, was in her element. She charmed the team effortlessly, laughing at their jokes and pretending to be genuinely interested in their stories. Y/N couldn’t tell if it was an act or if Karina was just naturally good at winning people over.

At one point, Sunghoon leaned over to Y/N, his voice low. “She’s really something, huh?”

Y/N glanced at Karina, who was animatedly telling a story to the rest of the group. She was gesturing wildly, her face lit up in a way that made it hard to look away.

“Yeah,” Y/N said softly. “She really is.”

Later That Night

As the party wound down, Karina and Y/N found themselves sitting on the steps outside the event space. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the chaos inside.

Karina leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the stars. “You survived your first official event as my girlfriend. How do you feel?”

“Exhausted,” Y/N said honestly.

Karina laughed, her voice soft and melodic. “You’ll get used to it.”

Y/N studied her for a moment, the glow of the streetlights casting shadows across her face. “Do you ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“Being… you,” Y/N said. “Always in the spotlight, always being perfect for everyone.”

Karina was quiet for a moment, her confident facade slipping just enough for Y/N to see the vulnerability underneath.

“Sometimes,” Karina admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s the only thing I know how to do.”

Y/N frowned. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know. You’re allowed to just… be yourself.”

Karina turned to look at her, her expression unreadable. “And what if I don’t know who that is?”

Y/N hesitated, then reached over and took her hand. “Then maybe it’s time you figured it out.”

Karina stared at her, and for once, she didn’t have a clever comeback.

The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, and for the first time, Y/N felt like she was finally seeing the real Karina—the one who hid behind all the glitz and glamour.

Life didn’t slow down after the victory party. If anything, it picked up speed. The school was abuzz with gossip about Y/N and Karina’s “relationship.” Everywhere Y/N went, people whispered or stared. Some congratulated her on her game-winning goal, but most wanted to talk about Karina.

“So, is it real?”

“How did you even bag Karina ?”

“Are you two, like, for real-for real?”

Y/N tried to dodge the questions, but Karina seemed to thrive on the attention. She’d casually wrap an arm around Y/N’s shoulder in the cafeteria or bring her a coffee in the middle of class, always with a knowing smirk. It was like a game to her—a game Y/N wasn’t entirely sure she was winning.

By the end of the week, Y/N was exhausted. She trudged into her dorm room after soccer practice, still sweaty and aching, only to find Karina lounging on her bed like she owned the place.

“Do you not have your own dorm?” Y/N asked, dropping her bag onto the floor.

Karina looked up from her phone. “Mine’s boring. Yours has personality. And snacks.”

Y/N sighed, pulling off her cleats. “What do you want, Karina?”

Karina sat up, crossing her legs. “We need to strategize. There’s a gala next weekend, and we have to make an appearance.”

“A gala?” Y/N repeated, groaning. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Karina said, standing up and walking over to her. “You’re my girlfriend, remember? People will expect us to be there together. Plus, it’ll be fun.”

“Your definition of fun is very different from mine,” Y/N muttered.

Karina tilted her head, a sly smile on her lips. “You’ll survive. And who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

The Night of the Gala

The Changryeo University gala was nothing like the sweaty chaos of the victory party. It was a high-class affair, with students and faculty dressed to the nines in designer suits and gowns. The event hall was decorated with glittering chandeliers and pristine white tablecloths, and a string quartet played softly in the background.

Y/N felt completely out of place. She adjusted the cuffs of her borrowed suit, glancing nervously at the crowd.

Karina appeared beside her, radiant in a sleek, black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. She looked every bit the queen bee, her confidence practically oozing from every pore.

“You clean up well,” she said, eyeing Y/N with an approving nod.

“You mean I don’t look like a sweaty soccer player for once?” Y/N asked, tugging at her tie.

Karina smirked. “Exactly.”

She grabbed Y/N’s arm and led her into the crowd, greeting people with effortless charm. Y/N tried to keep up, but it felt like Karina was operating on a completely different level.

At one point, they were cornered by a group of Karina’s friends, who bombarded Y/N with questions.

“So, how did you two meet?” one of them asked, batting her eyelashes.

Y/N froze, her mind going blank. She hadn’t prepared for this.

“Y/N heroically saved me from a terrible date,” Karina said smoothly, looping her arm through Y/N’s. “It was love at first sight.”

The group burst into laughter, and Y/N shot Karina a look. She just winked at her, clearly enjoying herself.

Later That Night

After hours of mingling, Y/N finally managed to escape to the balcony. She leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

A moment later, Karina joined her, holding two glasses of champagne.

“You’re not hiding, are you?” she asked, handing Y/N a glass.

“Maybe,” Y/N admitted, taking a sip. “This whole thing is… overwhelming.”

Karina leaned against the railing beside her, her expression unusually soft. “You’re doing fine.”

Y/N glanced at her. “Why do you even care about all this? The parties, the popularity, the drama. What’s the point?”

Karina was quiet for a moment, staring out at the city lights. “Because it’s easier to play the game than to let people see the real you,” she said finally.

Y/N frowned. “And what’s the real you like?”

Karina turned to her, a small, almost shy smile on her lips. “I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but didn’t look away. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone quiet, leaving just the two of them standing there under the stars.

“You’re… complicated,” Y/N said eventually, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Karina laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

As the night went on, Y/N realized that maybe, just maybe, being stuck in Karina’s world wasn’t as bad as she thought.

[luvyeni]

MAKE HER TAP OUT ♱. ── ( 엔하이픈 )

it’s too much , but you can take it?

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 엔하이픈 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. word count. 1k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ did this with skz so i decided to it with enha … also this has jungwon so … links are nsfw

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 희승 : heeseung ﹚ .ᐟ

heeseung being so deep inside you that you began to shake; but does he stop? absolutely not , he goes deeper , watching you shake like crazy; it turns him on even more. “fuck baby.” he chuckled against your ear , he skin warm against yours. “you’re shaking so much.” he pressed your back into a deeper arch. “so-so deep.” you stuttered , his hand came from behind , and around your neck. “so deep inside your pretty little cunt you’re shaking so fucking much.” he cursed. “to-too much.” you stuttered out , eyes rolling to the back of your head. “but you looks so cute all fucked dumb on my cock.” he said. “you can take it baby.”

“take my fat cock like a good girl.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 제이 : jay ﹚ .ᐟ

jay having a stressful day at work and coming home pressing you against the bed , pounding into you. his hips slapping against your ass as he presses your face deeper into the pillow , letting out all his frustrations. “stu-stupid fucking job.” he growled. “fucking employees don’t listen for shit.” holding the back of your head as the pillow muffles your screams. “don’t want to hear anything you say right now princess.” he said , you could grip his wrist and he would stop , but you loved when he treated you like this. “just want you to shut up and take my fat cock like a good cock sleeve.”

“can you do that? can you be a good cocksleve and take my dick princess?”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 제이크 : jake ﹚ .ᐟ

jake eats you out for sport; like that’s his second job and if he’s not holding you down , as you scream out his name , pushing at his head to release your poor sensitive bud from his plump lips — then he’s simply not doing a good job , he’s losing the game. the taste of your wet cunt on his tongue , you tugging on his hair; he’s in heaven and he shows no signs of stopping. meanwhile you’ve cum so many times you can’t even remember when he first pulled you down , getting in between your legs. “fuck i can’t cum anymore!” you moaned , but jake new you could , you haven’t squirted yet , that’s what he was waiting for. “fuck baby , you can do it , come on squirt for me.” you scream as he sucked on skin , covering him in you. “sh-shit baby, that's it keep cumming for me.” he said.

“you can do that again , fuck i want you to squirt just like that in my mouth.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 성훈 : sunghoon ﹚ .ᐟ

sunghoon overstimulating you; closing your legs, only for him to pry them back open , forcing another orgasm out of you , your juices covering his hand. “su-sunghoon fuck!” you squeal as he pushed his cock back inside you after making you cum for like the umpteenth time. “stop running from it.” he growled , holding your ankles. “you had a lot to say earlier now you’re struggling to take me.” he spat out. “you said you can take what i give you -fuck- so fucking take it.” cumming once again , he pulled of you , was he stopping? no , he was slipping his fingers back inside you. “sunghoon ! fuck please no more.” you screamed , but you knew you wanted more and so did he. “you know the safe word.”

“until you say it im gonna keep making you take my cock and my fingers.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 선우 : sunoo ﹚ .ᐟ

you and sunoo both being in a subby mood; you were on top , bouncing on his cock , him rutting his hips up trying to match each other but. “oh fuck you got tighter.” he whimpered out his hands shakily coming to your waist. “sun , m’gonna cum.” you moaned out he sped up, his thrust uncoordinated. “oh fuck my love me too — im gonna cum.” he said. “su-sunoo.” the way you said his name doubling over as you came, him following shooting his load deep inside you. “oh my god im cumming.” he kept going , riding your orgasm.

“cum please , please cum so i can make you cum again.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 정원 : jungwon ﹚ .ᐟ

most of the time sex with jungwon is soft and sweet; but there is sometimes where he is as ruthless as he can be. your arms tied up , legs spread open as he presses a vibrator to your clothed sensitive bud; pushing closer and closer to edge — only to move it away leaving you a sobbing mess. “pl-please.” you cried , he smiled , but not his normal sweet smile. “please what , what are you begging for?” he teased. “please let me cum.” you cried. “i never said you couldn’t cum did i?” he pressed the vibrator down on your clit hard. “ah fuck! please don’t move it.” you moaned. “im gonna cum.” you scream , you could feel the nearing of your sweet release; until you couldn’t anymore. “no , no please.” you sobbed , you could’ve said the safe word and he would let you cum , but you didn’t .

“on second thought maybe i should make you beg me to let you cum .. yeah , beg for baby , let me hear you.”

©️LUVYENI

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"

Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.

Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:

The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.

Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.

You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.

But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.

You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.

“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory

“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”

They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.

And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.

“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.

You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”

Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”

You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?

“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.

Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”

You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”

Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.

They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.

Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.

“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”

You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."

Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.

Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.

“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.

You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”

At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.

You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”

A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.

You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?

You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.

Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”

You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"

Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.

Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.

Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”

Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.

You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”

Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”

You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.

As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”

You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”

He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.

“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”

You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.

You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.

He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.

You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.

“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.

Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"

You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."

"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"

Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.

You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.

“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”

Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”

You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.

“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.

But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.

“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”

It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.

“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.

You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”

Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”

Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.

It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.

The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.

You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.

It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.

“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.

“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.

“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.

“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”

Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.

“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”

He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”

The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.

The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”

For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.

Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.

One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.

"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?

“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.

"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."

“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”

When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.

He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.

You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.

And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.

He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.

And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.

You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.

Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.

Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.

He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.

At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.

But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.

You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.

Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.

“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”

It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.

Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.

After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”

In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.

Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.

The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.

Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.

Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.

Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.

Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.

And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.

You couldn't wait to leave.

The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

You stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”

Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.

“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”

“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”

“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!

But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”

“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.

You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.

There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.

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[my-castles-crumbling]

sea - January 29 - black brothers - background jegulus - word count: 370

Rolling over with a groan, Regulus opened his eyes to find the source of the noise that had awoken him from his peaceful slumber. Quickly, he realized his phone was ringing.

“Don’t you know it’s three in the morning?” he hissed after answering.

“Reg? You’re alright?”

Instantly, Regulus’s scowl faded. He could tell from Sirius’s tone that something was wrong.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said softly, not wanting to wake a sleeping James that lay next to him. “Why? Are you?”

“Yeah, I-” Sirius’s voice cut off, and it sounded like he was holding back tears. “It’s nothing. I’ll go.”

But Regulus knew that it was clearly not nothing. “Sirius, just tell me what’s wrong,” he said flatly.

“I just…I had a dream. You were drowning, Reg. Being pulled down into the sea by all of these…these hands. And you were calling out for me. Asking for my help. Apologizing,” Sirius whispered, voice trembling.

Regulus’s heart sank a bit. Sirius used to get nightmares a lot when they were younger and still living with their parents. It wasn’t nearly as common, now. “It’s just a dream, Sirius,” he mumbled, trying to make his tone soothing. “It’s not real. Promise. I’m here with James in bed, okay?”

He heard Sirius sigh with relief. “Yeah…yeah I know. I just…I had to be sure.”

“I know,” he responded softly. He never knew what to do when Sirius showed his love for him like this. He wasn’t as overly affectionate, but he did care. “I love you, okay?”

“I- I love you, too,” Sirius replied, and it sounded like he was crying. “You- you would come to me? If you needed my help?”

“No,” Regulus answered honestly, rolling his eyes. “I would probably try to hide it. But James would figure it out and tell you, and you would force it out of me. Don’t worry, Sirius, I’m just fine.”

“Alright,” the older man nodded.

“Try to get some sleep, alright? Make Remus hug you or something,” he suggested.

“Okay. I love you, Reg.”

“I love you too, you annoying prat,” he said affectionately. 

And after he hung up, he placed the phone back on his bedside table before curling into his husband’s arms.

[rhyrhy]

Head of this house

After one too many bickering sessions with Abby about her long hours, you fell asleep while doing laundry. Uh oh

Cw: Smut! Strap on (r! Receiving), soft dom Abby!, traditional housewife views, slight rough sex, (no major petnames! Just a few sprinkled in) added visuals, blah blah blah. Slut activities.

4k words | MDNI- mlist

You lay there, sore and beyond satisfied on your duvet. Your panting had finally slowed. The room only filled with the distant hiss of the master bedroom shower being run by your wife. As your thoughts came back to you, you couldn't help but blush at the flashbacks from just moments ago…

Abby had just walked through the door after a long day at work. Sweat clung to her skin from the hot, grueling job on the site. However, as soon as she got home you didn’t come greet her like usual. oh lord that meant either you were sleeping or still upset by the argument of her work hours.

Heading into the bedroom and seeing you sprawled out on the bed and the bonnet covering half your face just furthered her thoughts. she sighed and leaned over and gently removed the covering off your head. she took a moment to just stare at your peaceful face a small smile forming on her own as her eyes roamed all over you.

her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked around the room and noticed the mess of clothes scattered everywhere. Her smile dropped.

she knew you’d been working on laundry a while ago, but for some reason got distracted. now she had to clean up after you, something that usually didn’t happen and she didn’t like it one bit.

she couldn’t help the small flare of irritation in her chest at the sight of it. she shook her head but quickly tried to push the thought aside and instead focus on her wife front of her after missing her... but the messy clothes were just a small reminder that you weren’t the perfect housewife she thought you were. she began tidying it all up, trying to keep the grumble of annoyance from her mouth low as she continued.

A line of colorful language woke you.

“You’re home?” You sleepily sat up realizing you’d lost track of time.

“Mhm, I just got home.” As you sat up, the shirt rode up and she couldn’t help but rake her eyes down your body. her own pants suddenly feeling like too many clothes, as she leaned against the dresser.

“I came in to see you all laid out on the bed, and yet you didn’t come greet me.” she said, her voice a little gruff from the long day.

You felt your stomach twist with guilt. She’d worked all day, and you’d lazily fallen asleep… But this was also just an off day. She’d understand that, right?

“I wasn’t aware you’d be working so late tonight.” half-truth; you couldn't remember if she told you or not.

“I told you that last night. I’ve had to work late these past few days to finish up a project on time. I don’t understand why you get all bent out of shape about it.” She huffed in response, still leaning against the dresser, her toned, arms crossed tightly in front of her.

Oh, here we go. You two never fought really, but when you did? It was over; you never saw her unless the sun was down and the streetlights were on. You tried to move topics but somehow kept ending up in the same spot.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

 “You just do more overtime than needed. Is all I was saying” this was true; she was a workaholic. Yes, she took care of you, but what’s the point of you never getting to hold her, kiss her, or be near her?

She groaned in annoyance, pushing off the dresser and stalking over to the bed. She stood over you, an eyebrow raised and irritation in her voice.

“You know how important my job is to me. Do you have any idea how much pressure is on me to get this job done on time? And then I come home to find things not done the way they’re supposed to be. Maybe you should be focusing more on keeping yourself busy while I’m out working my ass off.” She hated when you brought that up; true or not, you hit low. She was going to hit lower.

“What are you talking about—Oh lord, I fell asleep! Don’t act like that.” You huffed; no way she was this pissed. You always kept the house together, but today it was being hung over your head. And you didn’t like it one bit. She had dinner on the stove waiting for her for god's sake.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips, fingers brushing her belt. You could feel the room grow hotter as both of you glared daggers. It felt like a standoff.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! I came home to find clothes all over the floor like a damn tornado went through here. I had to pick it all up for you”.

“I was between cleaning and dinner, The house is never a mess. So you have no right to throw this in my face!” You sighed. This truly felt ridiculous. Had she forgotten everything leading up to today?

“You’re damn right I’m going to throw it in your face when I come home and find it a mess. I work my ass off all day to pay the bills; the least you can do is keep the house clean for me when I get home.”

She stepped even closer, standing only a few feet away from you now. She towered over you in a way that said, ‘I dare you to keep talking back.’. You know you should stop; just explain you were having an off day, but her tone was making that hard to do. 

She huffed again, her eyes narrowing. She could see the challenge in your expression as you sat there on the bed, shirt bunched up and revealing the smooth planes of your body. She could see it clear as day, and it made the irritation in her chest grow. You were on thin ice, and you willingly kept skating.

“Do you even realize what you’re wearing right now?”

What the fuck was she talking about? It’s a sleep shirt and shorts. Did she not hear that part where you said you were doing laundry? Ugh

But your reply was unknowingly the first strike.

“What? Oh, now you are going to be upset by what I’m wearing’ to bed too?” 

It felt like hell itself in the master bedroom. You hated fighting with her; you really did. With her late hours and you spending more time with your family, it felt like a wedge was being pushed between you two. Not to mention the obvious baby fever she’d been having, and yes, she’d be a good coparent but how can she promise that if you don’t see her now? 

It was too much, too fast, too heated. 

She clenched her jaw, her patience nearing its breaking point. Her eyes were flashing with borderline anger now, her jaw set in a hard line. Her towering a few steps away, you had moved to lean on the doorframe. Honestly, maybe it was better to walk away and take a breather. You two were usually good about that; you just hoped it would reach today.

“Do you even listen to a damn thing I say? You’ve been getting more and more mouthy lately, and I don’t like it. at. all.” Mouthy? You were being a little defensive, yes, but you weren’t trying to push her buttons on purpose. Even if it did get you a little hot to see her like this on occasion.

her hands were balled into fists at her side, itching to reach out and do something about your behavior. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, but the sight of you staring back at her, challenging her, was making it hard to do.

“You need to keep that smart mouth of yours in check, understand?” She raised a hand, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look directly at her. Other hand gripped her hip, a clear sign of bubbling over irritation.

Her grip on your chin got a little tighter, a warning to stay compliant. She looked down at you, her eyes flickering all over your face, and the way your breath was coming out in shallow pants. her own chest was heaving as she stood there, trying to keep a steady hold on the anger and nagging pang of lust that was running through her.

A few moments of silence passed, allowing you both to take a much-needed breath. She began to speak again, but the sound of your own breathing and foot tapping on the floor was all you could hear. She went on and on, Jesus. 

“Are you listening to me?

She leaned down, her face now only a few inches away from yours. Her voice was low. her hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck instead. She tugged your hair, pulling your head back a little bit, forcing you to look up at her. Waiting for your answer.

“Yes, I’m listening—will you knock that off?” you spat out, interrupted by the hair tug.

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting so damn bratty lately. It’s really starting to get on my nerves—” You felt her hand tense, then ball up a bit more on your scalp. 

One thing Abby hated more than you being mouthy was an eye roll following it, and you had just done it while she was talking. She tugged your hair again, just a little bit rougher this time.

“Excuse—Did you just roll your eyes at me?” she said, pure disbelief in her voice. You were really starting to push it. The irritation and anger were only growing, and she was getting more and more tempted to put you in your place right then and there.

That was strike two. 

She took another deep breath, her balled grip on your scalp still too tight. Her words were gritted out through her teeth. She wanted you to just apologize and not let it happen again.

“You better remember your place, honey. I’m the head of this house, and I won’t tolerate this kind of attitude.

Attitude. A word she repeated like a prayer, she swore you had the stinkiest attitude she’d ever seen when you fought. It irritated you highly; it felt like she was talking down to you.  You weren’t a child; you were her wife, her equal. housewife roll aside.

“I’m only giving you attitude because you’re being ridiculous, Abbigail!” You threw your arms up.  No honey, sweetheart, or any other cute name she was used to. Her full name, 

A-b-b-i-g-a-l. Her full name. 

That’s it. That did it. She went from mildly annoyed to furious in two seconds. The sound of her full first name falling from your lips combined with that stubborn, whiny tone in your voice pushed her over the edge she was hanging over.

She let go of your hair and grabbed your upper arm, standing you up from leaning on the doorway in one swift movement. She stood in front of you, towering over you, her voice low and full of irritation.

“Excuse me? …What did you just call me?”

Ah shit. It slipped out before you could stop yourself; she hated when you used her government. A line you had just crossed, regret starting to pool along with an uncomfortable arousal from how close she was standing. This woman can bench 205 pounds; she wasn’t afraid to do some manhandling if needed. You only ever got the soft side of her, and this was definitely not that. It was best to stand down…but your mouth had other plans.

She grabbed your other arm, her grip tight on your wrists as she stared you down. She was struggling to keep herself in control; the urge to shut you up was starting to become hard to ignore.

“You wanna repeat that?” she asked, her voice louder and more authoritative this time. You were going to answer, and now. She just didn’t know how much she was going to dislike your tone when you did.

“I said. You are being ridiculous, Abigail, because you are.” She was; this was deeper than today. An unspoken conversation about the growing distance between you two. Your own frustrations began to flow out as you continued on.

That was definitely strike three. You were asking for it, and she was going to give it to you.

That did it. The continual rise of your voice and finger pointing. She pushed you backwards, slamming you against the wall with brute force. her body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall.

“Don’t you ever use that tone with me” “have you lost your mind?”

She spit out through clenched teeth, her eyes staring down at you intensely as she held you there. her breathing was labored, her body tense. the way you were pressed against her, your body soft and chest to chest, it was only making things worse. it was taking all her restraint not to throw you over her lap. Rough wasn’t really what she favored most days, but it was seeming like a beautiful idea right about now.

“You need to learn to respect me. You are my wife, and I am yours. I work hard to provide for us, and what do you do? Sit at home all day and then get sassy when I come in tired?”

She cut you off mid-sentence with some half-hearted apology, half whine.

“Unt uh! Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been acting like this for too damn long, and I’m tired of it.”

Her eyes triangled down to your mouth, her breathing labored as she fought to keep her cool. Your lips were parted, your eyes wide, and the sight of you like that was making her feel dizzy. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her lips were on yours in an instant, her body pressing against you even harder. There was no sweetness or tenderness in this kiss—it was pure, raw need.

You felt your stomach twist. Oh, she was pissed, and you...kind of liked it? No- really. Liked it

She was kissing you with a ferocity that you hadn’t experienced before. Her tongue was in your mouth, exploring every inch, claiming your mouth. Her hands let go of your wrists, snaking down to grip your hips firmly. A soft sigh fell between you two; god, it’s been so long since you two got to hold each other longer than a few minutes before bed.

She broke the kiss, only to take a moment to look at you. Her eyes were dark, filled with an almost feral need. She leaned in, her mouth close to the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been pushing me for so damn long. I think it’s about time I knock you down a few notches.”

And honestly, you needed it. Wanted it, her.

“Now, you’re going to go over to the bed and get in that exact same position you were in when I walked in here, understood?” 

Oh, you understood alright; all you wanted to do was leap onto the bed and let her get it all out. You were still irritated by the previous conversation, yes, but you wouldn’t have married her if you didn’t like this side of her.

Her eyes were still fixed on you as she began to strip out of her work clothes, unbuttoning her flannel shirt and discarding it on the floor. her undershirt followed suit, revealing her physique that you loved. She then worked on taking off her jeans, shimmying out of them and kicking them aside.

“You’re going to lay there while I show you who’s in charge, yeah?”

As mad as she was, she was still checking in; railing your brains out was only ever done if wanted and only then. You nodded, returning to your position from before the argument. On your stomach, head propped on your arm.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to follow suit and undress, but you didn’t have time to wonder long when, without another word, she climbed onto the bed, looming over you.

Her hands were on your body in an instant, exploring every inch. They roamed over your skin, touching and squeezing and gripping. She was being rougher than usual, her touch almost possessive.

Her breath was hot against your neck as she spoke, her body pressed against your back.

“You remember who’s in charge around here, don’t you, hm?” She loved hearing you say it. A small smile when you confirmed that you did.

“Damn straight you do.” She pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor. Her eyes roamed over your now-exposed body, taking in every inch. 

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Her hands moved back to your hips, gripping them tightly again, her fingers digging into your skin. Grinding herself on the fat of your ass. Her weight on top of yours was as comfortable as a weighted blanket, a small hum of approval falling out when she began to kiss your bare shoulder.

The feeling of her strong thighs and bare cunt on the thin fabric of your shorts had your breath hitching. You know it’s been too long when small friction like this had her mewing moans into your warmed skin already.

Her hand found its way pulling your hair out of the way, causing you to tilt your head to meet your shoulder. Her chest now completely pressed against the skin of your back, messily kissing her way up to your lips.

She rubs herself against your clothed ass a bit more desperately. “Mm— God... I need this.” She was mostly saying that to herself, but it was nice to hear.

Her mouth leaves wet trails over your soft skin as her hands travel down from your face to the base of your neck. Calloused fingers guiding your head further over as she crashed her lips back into yours. She swiftly bit your lip to gain entrance of your mouth with her tongue, bullying yours, followed by another shared moan. 

Eventually, once she pulled back for air, she lifted off your hips just enough to pull your shorts and underwear down, tossing them next to her forgotten work clothes. 

Wasting no time, she leaned forward, burying her face between your thighs, her tongue immediately going to work on your pussy. Zigzagging through your folds, her grip tight, harder on your hips and legs spread you open and still as possible.

“Shit, abs,” you choked out, your cheek heavily rested on the plush pillow. Holding on for dear life. Eyes squeezing shut when her middle finger followed along. The pad curling and she pumped it tirelessly.

Her tongue was relentless, working against you in all the ways that had your eyes rolling back, arching and writhing in her grip that was bruising your skin. She was going to show you just what happens when you get too smart with her, too mouthy.

“Thaaattt’s it, baby, let it out for me. Wanna hear you get loud.”

She could hear your breathing getting heavy, your words coming out in soft pants. Babbling out apologies when she would smack an occasional love tap to the fat of your ass. She wasn’t stopping, not until she got you to scream for her.

She didn’t let up on the constant sucking and pressure on your clit. She wanted you to moan and shout her name so loudly she’d have to put a hand over your mouth. She wanted to hear you say you were hers and only hers. 

Her tongue against your skin felt nearly sinful; the things she was doing were nearly too much. and she wasn’t stopping anytime soon. not when you were moaning and arching into her. not when you were biting back loud whimpers. She was going to keep going until she’d made her point, made sure you would behave. Her pink muscle filling the room with smacking sounds and your whines for her to not stop.

It sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Her movements were urgent now, her intent clear. She wanted to push you over the edge. your hands bunched at your shared blankets, in a struggled attempt to steady yourself. You didn’t realize how much you missed moments like these until now, back arched and head heavy as your brain fogged. The only thing on it was wanting more, more, god please more.

With a loud cry you bounced your ass backwards as you chased your high. Forcing her finger deeper, god you just wanted more but knew you weren’t in a position to ask so you made due.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, that coil in your lower belly beginning to snap.

A small hiss left her throat feeling you bury her deeper into your cunt. Feeling drunk off your sounds and need. She could feel your body moving against as you tried to keep it under control. "That's right, baby," she murmured into your skin. Curling them inside to hit your spot; causing your head to fall back and moans escape your mouth.

You could barely hear her over yourself but it was enough to have you coating her fingers in your release sooner than you expected, your orgasm washing over you.

Your hips fell flat against the mattress, the tension in your body unraveling all at once. The rustle of her releasing your legs barely registered in your haze, the world around you distant and blurred. Your limbs felt weightless, boneless, a warm numbness spreading from your core outward. Your breath came in slow, uneven waves against the soft white pillow, your cheek molding into the fabric, damp with heat.

Your heartbeat still thundered in your chest, pulsing in your fingertips, your skin alive with the aftershocks that rolled through you in lazy ripples. You heard her silky voice whisper something along with your bedside table's soft click, but you weren’t sure what it was until you were a little spooked by the sudden weight dipping into the mattress next to you. 

You went to curl next to her only to be pulled over. You let out a weak chuckle and scooted to straddle her hips. Only to have your eyes snap open at the sudden push of silicone into your still pulsating heat. Causing your hips to buck into the feeling. 

“F-Fuck! Abby—Jesus” Followed by a SMACK on your hip, as you shuddered and sunk down onto the toy as far as you could.

“Uh unt, you don’t get to whine right now” “still got a lot of apologizing to do”

One hand gripped your hip to keep you in place, the other slowly rubbing your clit in messy circles. Your skin felt like fire as her hands roamed your body. Abby jerks up, letting the rest of her inches sink inside you. A small groan falling from her lips when the base of her strap adds pressure from your weight striking her clit. The dim light from the bedside lamp glowing softly on her features, the sight alone had you biting your lip. 

Her Hairsprayed out on the pillow underneath her, eyes half-lidded as she feels out the lines and dips of your body. You had only been on a top a few times; she wanted you to work for it. Usually she’d fuck you until you were one with the mattress, but the conversation from earlier still lingered in the air. In the hottest way possible.

You didn’t need her to tell you what to do, thighs brushing the skin of her waist as you guided yourself along the veiny length. It felt so deep inside of you that you were practically melting together.

“That’s it, honey, k-keep god—Fuckin' me like you mean it.” she brings her firm grip up to your waist to help you add to the sweet rocking, causing her to tilt her head further back. Your rhythm steadies, the bounce of your hips sending Abby into soft grunts. 

Her fingertips left your back, moving back down to your hips to steady herself and guide your rocking faster. 

“Yes, juuust like that,” she whispered, shifting underneath so she was a deep as possible. The repetitive sound of the skin of her pelvis meeting yours over and over filled the room to the brim. Her praises mingling with her low moans and your breathy pants. 

Hearing you respond, seeing how you looked, feeling your body against hers was sending her brain into overdrive. You looked good, sounded good, and felt even better. She continued moving, her breath coming out in sharp pants.

She let out a little groan at the feeling, her head falling back a bit. She pulled your hair slightly, exposing your neck and back arching further into her view. one hand moving from your hip to your back, nails raking against your skin. She could feel you trembling, and she knew you wouldn’t last much longer, though, she wasn’t far behind either. Feeling heat pool in your lower belly, you lifted your hips higher with each bounce. A slight tingling in your toes as the strap kissed all the right spots of your gushing walls. 

She let out a low gasp when you pressed your hands against her chest, the desperation clear as day in the way you sunk down. It only caused her to move a little faster, the sound of the headboard creaking against the wall filling her ears and egging her on. Her hand in your hair pulled a little bit harder this time, the other moving to your hip again to steady herself.

She groaned at the feeling, watching as you tried to move as well, trying to keep the pace. She gripped your hips a bit tighter, her nails digging into your skin a little.

“You look so pretty.” She managed between pants, “You sound even better too, mm—gonna remember this every time you get mouthy with me, yeah?” 

All you could do was a head nod, feeling the tight coil in your lower belly snap along with a choked out whimper

Yes you definitely would

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[fxndxm-axg]

I just know Arthur would hold your hips as you’re riding him, careful to not completely impale you on his cock, but rather inch you down more and more with every couple of bounces. You’d see that strained, almost-proud smirk grow on his face the deeper he’s sheathed within you, maybe even opting to sit up to pepper kisses along your chest, your nipples, your neck. He’s not proud of himself for bagging you- god knows it was the other way around, and you deserved so much better than him- but proud of you, for wanting to, and being able to handle him. His praises against your skin, though quiet, are so sincere as they carry up to your ear, drowning out the lewd sound emanating from between your legs. After all, they’re reserved only for you to hear.

“That’s it… You’re takin’ me so well, darlin’.”

A soft grunt escapes Arthur as he can’t help but buck his hips a bit, his tip prodding against that spot he knows will earn a pretty little moan from your lips. He’d come down from his mini-lust high with a groan, continuing his words the moment he was used to the tightening of your walls.

“Like you was made for my cock…”

~

Arthur would never know why a person like you would chose him, but he knew this much; the sex was only a byproduct of the love you supposedly had for him, for each other. But with the way your insides fluttered around him, how you clung to him and sung out your proclamations of adoration amidst a moment so dirty-

“Oh, Arthur… Y-you feel so good….F-fuck, I-I love you!”

… He knew better than to question it in the moment.

[trivia-yandere]

the beast of busan

you’re the only reporter who wasn't scared of documenting the valentine's day crimes of jeon jungkook - a notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan. @minshookie29 @whipwhoops @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @investedreader @somehowukook @yunhoswrldddd @curse-of-art

word count: 18.607

warning: multiple character death, yandere/dark themes, obsessive behavior, blood, mentions of death, reader is somewhat exploitative, erotomania jk, narcissism, manipulative tactics/moments, dry humping, neck kissing, dub-con/non-con elements, dirty talking, nipple sucking, fingering, face/ass slapping, overall this is a yandere based account and this is a yandere fic so please read the warnings,

valentine's day masterlist

“On Valentine’s Day, Busan has endured one of the most heinous crimes imaginable on a day that is supposed to be about love. It was dubbed “The Valentine’s Day Murder’s” by some for how gruesome the crimes were of the couples slain that night. However,” there was a pause as your eyes flicker to Jungkook. His eyes meet yours and he smiles proudly. “the murders had not stopped on the Holiday and instead, there was a serial killer tormenting the people of Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly and you feel disgusted. It’s as if you weren’t speaking about him - as if you and he weren’t in the same all white cafeteria in the prison he resided where he was deemed a psychopath for his lack of empathy. You are positive he was reveling in the fact that you were here - in the same sundress he told you to wear - and interviewing him.

It makes your skin crawl.

“For the following months, the serial killer continued tormenting the people of Busan, killing any and everyone who he deemed fit that caused a panic throughout the city. No one knew if they were next - me included.”

Jungkook tilts his head, lips pursing a bit at your last comment.

“The serial killer was given the name…the Beast of Busan. And today, I’m interviewing him to get a deeper, more introspective outlook on why. Starting from the very beginning.”

Jungkook is excited, never having been interviewed like this before - at least not one with someone so beautiful such as yourself.

“Jeon Jungkook…” you gulp after saying his name. “...please introduce yourself.”

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. People of Busan know me as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles, completely unfazed and lacks any empathy of why he got the name. “I was born and raised here. It’s my home. I love Busan.”

It was Jungkook’s idea to have camera’s set up facing him as he speaks into the microphone. He said whoever supports him would want to see footage of him - a vain statement. 

“You cannot love it that much, surely. You caused a panic.”

Jungkook licks his lips. “That I have.” he nods in agreement. 

“Would you like to tell us why?” you question. “Jungkook, did you know the victims?”

Jungkook blinks a few times as he contemplates the question. “Well, I’ve watched all of your live reports. That’s how I know their names.”

The flashing lights are nearly blinding as you power walk up the scene -  a crime scene. There’s yellow tape surrounding the home and police officers along with medics coming in and out of said home. There’s a small crowd of people surrounding the area that are being pushed aside by police.

“Reporter Lee is already on the scene.” you murmur to your camera man behind you, glancing at the reporter who was already giving an interview. “Start the camera.” 

You swallow thickly and await for the camera to start. “Hi,” you say towards the camera, the light flashing at you as it begins rolling. “Y/L Y/N reporting live at the scene of a gruesome murder. Right behind me is the home belonging to Kim Bora and Da Byeong-ho. Neighbors reported hearing screaming coming from inside the home and had contacted authorities. Upon arrival, authorities had found both bodies covered in blood and multiple stab wounds.”

Two stretchers are seen behind you and in the view of the camera. There’s gasps coming from surrounding people as police bring out said stretchers with the bodies of the fallen couple. Their bodies are zipped tightly inside of the black bag. 

“Authorities are unsure who was the culprit behind the murders thus far,” you turn your head towards Reporter Lee whose eyes are already on you. “More information to come.”

The camera is cut just as the bodies are brought inside the ambulances. The flashing lights are illuminating off of your skin and even if you don’t look it, your heart is thumping outside your chest.

Busan didn’t have this - there was a murderer on the loose. Now of course, it could have been personally - someone knew the couple for who they were. However, there was also the possibility that this was a random couple that someone chose to slain and the fact that whoever it was has not been caught sends shivers down your spine. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Reporter Lee stands before you with a smirk on his lips. You stand straighter. “Death is not a laughing matter.” you retort.

“It isn’t.” Reporter Lee nods in agreement. “However, something like this isn’t meant for women.”

“Excuse you?” you raise an eyebrow at the man. 

“I mean,” Reporter Lee shrugs his shoulders. “You should be reporting something softer. Death is so hardcore.”

“I’m aware. Thank you.” you turn away from Reporter Lee and at your camera man. “Let’s go.” you murmur, not sparing the man another glance.

Reporter Lee was infamous in Busan for always being at the scene of any crime committed - petty theft, break ins. This was just the cherry on top - a murder case. While other Reporters were now running to hop on the train, you were the only woman and he made sure he was going to make it harder for you. 

“You women have it easy,” you recall him stating one day as you follow behind him on scene of a robbery. “All you have to do is look pretty in front of the camera and you have people’s attention. There’s no real hardship for you.”

How wrong Reporter Lee was, because even now as you are just as qualified as these men are in journalism and reporting, you are still deemed as nothing but eye candy. 

However, you were not a fool. You wouldn’t allow whatever these men thought of you to run you off - if anything, it made you want to work harder to break out in the field of reporting. Being a woman did have its perks, but your plans wouldn’t work if the men saw you as a person instead of a piece of meat. You managed to get a hold of a police scanner and it made your job easier - especially when there was a reported murder just a few blocks away from the first one. 

“Y/L Y/N reporting live from the scene of yet another murder.” you say into the camera as police scattered behind you. “Reports say that the woman, Won Duri, had called the police while her boyfriend was being brutally attacked right in front of her. Here is the recording.”

The cameraman is fast, playing the recording that was saved from the police scanner. Screams erupt from the woman on the phone in an attempt to find help for her boyfriend. Behind her screams are muffled ones, followed by what appears to sound like stabbing and blood splatter. It’s chilling to listen to, but you manage to keep your face emotionless.

“Right behind me,” you say as the recording goes silent. “police are escorting the body of Won Duri’s boyfriend, Yuk Jaehyung, to the hospital. He is in critical condition while Won Duri managed to remain unharmed.”

Won Duri is a crying mess who is attempting to be consoled by police officers. She’s covered in blood belonging to her boyfriend. “Excuse me,” you say as you come closer to the victim. “please tell-”

“You cannot be here.” one police officer says, pushing you aside roughly. “This is a crime scene.”

“I’m well aware.” you retort. “I’m here to speak to the victim. Obviously,”

‘Obviously,” the police officer interrupts. “She is in no position to talk.”

“Maybe she would be easier to speak with a woman than being surrounded by men after being attacked by one.” you spit, voice laced with venom.

The police officers are taken aback by your words, but even he takes a step back.

“Pass me a water bottle.” you say an officer. You come closer to Duri and place a hand onto her shoulder. “You must be so frightened, Duri. It’s okay.” 

Duri’s eyes are wide and she's handed a bottle of water by an officer. 

“Have you seen your attacker?” you ask Duri. She nods hesitantly. “Can you describe him for us? It’ll make it easier for investigators to find him.”

You’re patient with Duri as she slowly takes a sip of her water. Her hands are trembling the entire time and you’re truly sorry for what the woman had to endure. 

“He was young.” Duri’s voice is soft and timid. “U-Um, black hair. He…had hand tattoos.”

You nod your head the entire time, never losing eye contact with Duri. 

“I remember a p-purple heart. His eyes were so…dark. He had a lip piercing and…”

Duri begins to cry and you glance at the officers. “Thank you, Duri.” you tell her, offering a shoulder squeeze. 

You take a few steps back and turn back to your cameraman. “Did you get all of that?” you ask him and when he nods, you sigh. “Duri managed to survive the attack and got a good look at her attacker. There’s no way in Hell he won’t be caught.”

The Beast of Busan was what the killer was called, and on Valentine’s Day he had ended his spree with murdering a dozen more couples on the same day. The city was in shambles, all wondering just who the Beast of Busan was and the reasons for his actions. Some reporters had speculated it was because he was single and hated couples - a popular theory amongst the group of reporters. Others suggested that the culprit was not a killer, but a group of killers working together because of how rapid the murders were. 

You, however, didn’t dwell too much into the “Why”. “The murderer or murderers do not need a reason to kill. They kill because he or they wants to.” you say, microphone close to your mouth as you speak, your eyes right in the camera. “Whoever the Beast of Busan is, there is never a reason to kill and harm innocent people.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

That voice, your mind groans. Reporter Lee stands in front of your camera without a welcome. He understands that live recording is crucial for reporters, so you wouldn’t shove your foot up his ass and break away from your professional view. 

“I, however, believe the Beast of Busan is a coward.” Reporter Lee states into your camera. “He’s a jealous incel who’s possibly a lonely bastard, excuse my language, and murdered the lives of innocent people simply because they were couples.” Reporter Lee shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose you could be correct.” you lick your lips, clenching the microphone in your hand. “That could be the reason. But-”

“Could?” Reporter Lee scoffs. “What other reason would he murder couples on Valentine’s Day?”

“There’s been other mass murderers that do so without deeper meaning, Reporter Lee.” your grit your teeth in an attempt to smile at him - not genuine in the slightest. “We will only know when the Beast of Busan is arrested.” you turn towards your camera man and smile. “I’m Y/L Y/N, thank you.”

Your head snaps to Reporter Lee as soon as the camera stops rolling. “What the fuck-”

“Calm down.” Reporter Lee rolls his eyes, not allowing you the chance to speak. He turns away from you and begins to walk. Your eyes widen at the rudeness of it all.

“Fuck you!” you hiss after him, your palm throbbing with how hard you were clenching the microphone. You wanted nothing more than to hurl it at the back of his head, but that would do nothing but cause an unnecessary scene. 

“Y/N��”

Your camera man places a hand on your shoulder. 

“I know.” you sigh. Inhale, exhale, you tell yourself. “I’m just tired of being disrespected.”

You weren’t taken seriously - and you never were. You didn’t even consider reporting to be a “male dominated field”, however, it was becoming such. You weren’t as well-known as Reporter Lee, him being the top stationed in Busan, but you also didn’t look down on others such as him. How he was considered the best reporter is beyond you. 

“What do you think the reason is?” your cameraman asks as he and you stroll towards the van. “Could there be a deeper reason for why he murdered those people?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe it’s because we give them cool names like ‘The Beast of Busan’.” you scoff, not entirely selling your argument. “I don’t think there’s a deeper reason as to why people do what they do. Murder is never an option.”

Your heart jolts when Jungkook’s eyes are suddenly on you, a shiver running up your spine at his words. 

“I didn’t know them before. They were strangers to me.” Jungkook shrugs. “By your reports, Won Duri called the police as I was tussling with her boyfriend.”

“Tussling? Or brutally attacking?” you nearly spit.

Jungkook flashes you a low grin. “We can call it that.” he nods. “Yuk Jaehyung was his name. Again, I didn't know him. Didn’t care to know him.” he shrugs. “I only know his name because I watched your live report on the matter.”

You wished Jungkook would stop trying to add you into the mix. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for some people to think deeper - and you don't need any conspiracies tied to your name. 

“What was your reasoning for attacking the couple - and a dozen more?”

Jungkook’s eyes trails over the sundress, admiring the way it sits against your body. “You look very pretty today.”

“I’ll have to edit that out.” you sigh, but your body reacts for you, heat radiating throughout. 

“Sorry.” Jungkook flashes a smile that would cause your heart to beat faster if he wasn’t a serial killer who lacked empathy. “Would it be sad to say…that I didn’t have a reason?”

Jungkook’s skin appears to glow in the camera, your eyes flickering to the way he leans a bit closer, his jaw appears chiseled and you understood why he had a bit of fangirls. Maybe it was easier to be attracted to a killer when he was behind bars - still, he was just that. A killer. 

“Maybe I was bored?” Jungkook says with a careless shrug. “Maybe what people were saying was correct. Maybe I was lonely and took it out on couples.”

You remain silent as Jungkook speaks.

“Or maybe I just did it, just because. To see how far I’d be able to go.”

Jungkook’s tone gets deeper and deeper as he speaks, his eyes more cloudy. That familiar switch turns off and it’s as if the Beast is emerging. 

“Maybe…I wanted your attention.”

You can feel the hair begin to rise on your skin. “Excuse me?” you murmur. “I didn’t know you prior to-”

“I knew you, Y/N.”

Your eyes begin to widen slowly. 

“Maybe you were the reason why I killed them.”

“Stop.”

“I wanted to get your attention any way I could. Any attention from you is good attention in my eyes.”

“Stop.” your teeth grit, heart pounding so loudly. “You said-”

“I know what I said, baby. I’ll never do anything to incriminate you.” Jungkook chuckles, bunny teeth on display. “Let’s continue the interview, yeah?”

“You aren’t scared?” Jimin asks with raised eyebrows and a concerned look.

You scoffed.

“Why should I be?”

A month had passed since the Valentine’s Day Massacre - a name given by the people - by the Beast of Busan - another name given. Police and investigators had yet to find the person or people responsible. 

The city of Busan was left in shambles. People were in a frenzy, wondering if they’d be next. They kept extra precaution while law enforcement did the same. There was now a curfew of 9 PM for everyone who did not have a Government job, and if so, they would be escorted to and from work by armed police.

“He’s murdered several reporters. Including Reporter Lee.” Jimin says matter-of-factly, as if it was an obvious statement - and it was. “Do you really want to keep tempting him until he finds you?”

Your last cameraman had resigned, stating that the job isn't worth his life. You couldn’t be upset with him - after the news of Reporter Lee’s death, it caused a shift for all reporters. The murderer had left a handwritten note - written with the blood of Reporter Lee - stating that he had killed him.

Jimin was your new cameraman that had started a week ago. He was kind and cute - would fit the description of a reporter instead of a cameraman. He had the charm and the charisma to be in front of a camera. 

“If I don’t report then we’re both out of a job, Jimin.” you remind him with a nod of your head. “What is happening now is truly sickening…” you begin, licking your lips. Your mind flashes with the gruesome sight of Reporter Lee’s home. Blood splatter across the walls and seeping through the wooden floors. It haunts you at night. “...but I’m not going to let anyone come between what I love to do.”

Jimin could only sigh. He respected you and your courageousness, truly. He just hoped you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

In your mind, you did know what you were getting yourself into. You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t frighten you to your core - that it didn’t keep you up at night at times. You couldn’t sleep most nights, and when you did, you would see the bloodied bodies of the reporters who all died doing exactly what you were doing.

You often looked over your shoulders when you were alone - which was only when you were home. You invested in several cameras and alarms and even went as far as keeping several weapons near you when you were home and on your person while you were out.

It’s insane to think that you live your life as if your job was dangerous - but now it was. You were possibly targeted by the Beast of Busan simply because you refuse to halt reporting on his heinous crimes. 

You opened up your bottled water and only managed to take a sip before your police scanner was going off once more.

Your eyes turn to Jimin who only nods, getting the point that you wanted him to drive to the destination.

There had been another murder and, of course, the suspect was no one other than the Beast of Busan. Upon the scene, there were no other reporters - which is expected. Reporters had since quit their jobs once they learned of the deaths of their competition.

“Y/L Y/N live on the scene of yet another brutal murder.”  you speak, microphone close to your lips as Jimin already has the camera’s rolling.

There’s dozens of police officers behind you that are adding caution tape. The townspeople, much like the reporters, were no longer interested in showing their faces around the crime scenes. They would rather watch the news from their homes behind locked doors - not that you could blame them. You and Jimin were deemed highly courageous to still show your faces publicly where the Beast could possibly find you.

“Officer’s,” you nod your head as two police officers had stepped forward. They appeared to be distressed - you assume the crime scene was another brutal sight. “were there any survivors?”

One officer sighs with a shake of his head. He glances from you to the camera. 

“Reporter Y/L…we have something you might want to see.” the other officer speaks. 

Your hand clenches your microphone as you are shown a bloodied picture. The irony smell hits your nostrils almost immediately and your stomach begins to clench.

You release a struggle gasp at what the picture is.

You.

It was you - not reporting. You don’t recall anyone being around when you had made your way home that one evening. You appear to be dazed, as if stuck in your own thoughts.

“There’s a message behind the picture.” the officer speaks, slowly turning it around - almost as if this was a moving and the camera is panning onto the picture in slow motion.

You swallow down your fears. You are positive that everyone watching is terrified for you - you’d be another reporter dead by the hands of the Beast.

“Lovely Y/N,” you read aloud, eyes looking towards the camera. “you’re so beautiful when you’re not looking. I hope you enjoy the masterpiece I left for you.”

Jimin cuts the cameras before you have to tell him to and instantly, you release your nerves onto the ground besides you. 

“You have to stop reporting on him, Y/N.” Jimin nearly pleads. “He’s been following you!”

“You’re going to need more protection.” one officer sighs, rubbing at his temples. “That’s what he wants.” you spit, your throat clenching up once more and for a moment you think you’re going to vomit again. 

“Y/N…” Jimin sighs with a disbelieving shake of his head. “...you cannot be serious?”

“I’m not going to stop reporting on him.” you turn your back and begin to walk towards the news van. “He wants people to fear him as if he’s some sort of entity. Like a force to be reckoned with.”

Jimin follows close behind you. “He’s been following you, Y/N. You aren’t safe!”

“None,” your hand grasps onto the door handle and you swing it open. In the passenger seat is a bottle of water. You grab it to wash your mouth out. “of us are safe. Just in one month, Jimin, he’s managed to scare everyone off of the streets.”

You gargle onto the water before spitting it out.

You were terrified, you won’t lie. You couldn’t bear venturing further into the crime scene to witness how gruesome the murders were - or how he left you a personal note. Surely it was to scare you away from doing your job - scare you away from your passion.

You wouldn’t.

“Is this really worth your life, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is like the angel on your shoulder attempting to steer you away from harm. 

“I understand that it isn’t worth yours, Jimin.” you turn to him with a soft look in your eyes. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I’m not stopping.” you shake your head. “I’m not going to cower away like a dog with their tail between their legs.”

Jimin thinks your bravery is admirable - even if your plans were suicidal. There was a serial killer in Busan, killing innocent people just because he could and here you stand as if it was a regular day.

“Just…promise me you’ll stay safe.” Jimin sighs. He wasn’t going to steer you away from what you were determined to do. There was a spark in your eye; this was a challenge to you. It was a rivalry similar to what you and Reporter Lee had; the difference is, your life's on the line.

The next hour - and the following month - was just like this. Jungkook would often flirt with you and each passing day, it would get even more inappropriate. It was the same thing time and time again, the switch would flip and he would be back to his boy-next-door ways and he would be complicit in the interview.

You had a month full of content and the first episode would be released on your Podcast and - thanks to Jimin - your own website. 

Jungkook had insisted he didn’t speak to anyone else while he gave you the information you needed. It felt wrong doing this - giving Jungkook a platform where he never truly felt sorry for what he’s done. A part of you feels horrible for profiting off of the death and trauma of others for your own personal gain.

“Once the money starts rolling in, baby, you’ll be fine.” Jungkook had said. Baby was his new pet name for you, no matter how many times you told him that it made you uncomfortable. His response was that if you truly felt uncomfortable in his presence, you’d stop returning day by day.

“There'll be mixed reactions for sure.” Jimin says once he manages to upload the first episode to your podcast and the video interview to your website. “But you’re a reporter and you’ll be ready for them.”

You nod your head, releasing a deep breath. 

“So,” Jimin turns to you. “what happens now? Are you done seeing Jungkook?”

You want to say yes. You want to feel free from Jungkook and his terrifying gaze and his sudden changes of mood. You don’t want to feel so small in front of someone who isn’t able to harm you - so vulnerable.

Truth is, you’re unsure of yourself. Jungkook had insisted that you come back and see him time and time again, and now that you didn’t need to, what was the point?

“I have my life to lose if I don’t.” you say to Jimin. 

“You’re going to keep allowing him to threaten you?” Jimin questions with a raised eyebrow. “He’s in prison for a reason. I’m sure if you don’t return…what could truly happen? We have everything we need already. Everyone will know about Jungkook and just how insane he is.”

You open your mouth to speak but Jimin wasn’t done. 

“You are the reporter. You are the one that managed to get the story of Jungkook as the Beast of Busan. Anything he says after that would just go against his own story, wouldn’t it?”

Jimin was right - and you’ve always known. It was Jungkook that had such leverage over you that even the thought of him lying frightens you to your core. 

“I understand.” you sigh, defeated. 

“You want to watch the first episode?” Jimin furrows his brow. “The views are going up by the minute and there’s already so much traction on your site.”

Jimin wasn’t lying and as each episode dropped week by week, you - and Jungkook - were the talk happening on every news, radio, podcast station. There were indeed mixed reviews, some thanking you for telling the story of Jungkook - most people despised him but were interested in his story. Other’s despised you and Jungkook, stating that you were doing nothing but giving a psychopath a platform; and you were. 

Jungkook was right when he said you’d be racking in large amounts of money, a part of you feeling utterly shitty about how you’ve contained this money. You’ve done what you thought would be the right thing and donated a large sum of the money you’ve earned over the last few months to the families of Jungkook’s victims as this was also their stories being told.

It was as if time stood still.

The reign of terror that Busan has experienced for months on end was finally put to a stop - and the murderous being that was called the Beast of Busan has been captured.

You have seen many phenomenons during your life as a reporter, but this would be the most shocking in your book.

Jeon Jungkook, age 27, has been confirmed to be the serial murderer who had slain innocent people, starting on Valentine’s day earlier in the year. 

Many people had their suspicions on who the Beast was. An older man with a vengeance against younger couples in love because he found none. Someone vile and cruel and looked the part.

What anyone - you included - was not expecting was someone young. 

Someone handsome.

Jeon Jungkook was something straight out of a movie - the typical love interest in your favorite romance. The common boy next story with boyish looks that would cause your heart to flutter and your body to heat up.

Tall with dark hair that curls slightly at the tips of it. It sits at his shoulders and in the slight wind in the evening, it flows beautifully. 

His skin appears soft and smooth - blemish free and so young-like to add to his boyish appearance. But it was his body that reminded everyone that he was a man; a fit one at that. His shirt, white and stained with crimson blood, clings to him. Its sleeves are short and display a full arm of tattoos. His jeans are ripped at the knee’s and again, stained with the same blood. 

Jeon Jungkook caused a frenzy when he was arrested - you being the only reporter on the scene. You couldn’t look at him, not after what he’s put you through the last few months. Constant letters addressed to you that got worse and worse as time led on - more inappropriate and sexual.

 “I often watch you on the news and think just how lovely your lips would look wrapped around me…”

“You’re so stubborn and independent. I cannot wait to make you submit to me…”

And those were the tame ones.

Your eyes avert when his head snaps to you. Your heart was pounding outside your chest and visible, your hand - clenching your microphone - began to shake with nerves. Jimin had noticed and cut the camera’s quickly from you and towards Jungkook - who’s eyes stared right at you. 

It was evident from the beginning that Jeon Jungkook had no desire to kill you - and if he did, he was just toying with you first. The amount of times that he has come too close without being caught was countless. He would leave bloodied roses outside your home and letters signed with “Your Beast”.

You were lucky to be alive, some said. Blessed, as if God was on your side.

You didn’t show the public that it was difficult to sleep at night because you felt as though his eyes - eyes you never seen until his arrest - were on you. You felt the constant need to ride and hide from someone you never knew if they were truly watching you or not.

Your mind racks through countless memories to see if you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook before as he was the perfect serial killer. He was someone you could have walked past and never suspected simply because of his appearance.

Months dragged on and Jeon Jungkook, also known as the Beast of Busan, was a hit.

Like an idol - not one to look up to in the slightest.

You were shocked when each court hearing, there were countless women - even men - outside on the side of a murderer. There were some declaring that he wasn’t the Beast simply because of his appearance, completely ignoring the fact that he was caught at the scene of the crime - and confessed to over a dozen others.

You attended each hearing alongside Jimin, your legs shaking with nerves.

Jeon Jungkook terrified you - the way his head would turn and his eyes would lock with your before he would give a curt wave and a low smirk. He didn’t seem bothered that he was facing several life sentences.

The letters never stopped - not even when you signed a restraining order and demanded that he would not have the possibility to do so. You were told that Jungkook never sent you letters directly - his followers did.

It causes shivers to run up your spine at the thought of someone like Jungkook - a murderous human being - could have followers and fangirls. With a snap of his finger, they did whatever he desired. It was as if he wasn’t sitting in prison due to his crimes. They looked at Jungkook as some sort of Prophet. 

“Maybe you should take some time off.” Jimin suggested, having witnessed you down yet another cup of coffee. “He’s weighing on your mind heavily.”

“Of course he fucking is. People don’t see him as a piece of shit like I do.” you hiss, not truly meaning to speak to Jimin in such a harsh tone. “How is it that people think he’s innocent? Or the ones who know he did it, they…they romanticize it?!”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure how to console you. Jungkook is locked away in a prison and yet it’s as if he’s roaming free. 

You remained looking over your shoulder constantly. The bloodied roses continued to be at your doorstep every day, all signed with “Your Beast”. You received phone calls - the first one you answered had been Jungkook himself, claiming that he wished to speak with you. When you blocked the number, the calls remained, all three way calls with his followers. It got to the point that you hadn’t answered your phone in weeks.

“People romanticize the both of you.” Jimin taps his fingers against his thighs. “Like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I’m not complicit in his bullshit.” you close your eyes and inhale, counting just like your therapist had told you to. You couldn’t allow yourself to get too worked up. “I just want him to leave me alone, Jimin. I don’t….I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Jimin swallows. “How about…” he begins. “...you talk with him.”

“Jimin-”

“In the form of an interview!” Jimin raises his hand in defense. “Just, hear him out. He refuses to speak to anyone but you. You could be the one to sell the story of the Beast of Busan himself.”

You couldn’t believe that Jimin wanted you to profit off of this madness - and face the man that stalks you right from a jail cell. 

“Take back your own control, Y/N. You’re the one that’s free, not him.” Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let him control your life more than he already has.”

You sigh, leaning back into your chair. 

Was Jimin onto something? Could you possibly do that without chickening out?

What were you scared of? He couldn’t hurt you - not while in prison. If he wanted to, surely he would have. 

But you remained terrified of what could happen, and deep down it was you becoming the same as the fangirls who preached for his release.

“Y/N.”

It took yet another month for you to sit across from Jeon Jungkook.

The cafeteria is large and pristin. White walls, white tiled floors with white lights and white tables and chairs - all metal. It matches the all white attire that Jungkook wears, similar to a prison jumpsuit, just bleached white and clean. The windows right outside display the current season - autumn. The leaves are a different shade of brown and orange while the wind blows them along the ground.

“You look beautiful.”

Jungkook had agreed to your interview quite too quickly for your liking, but he had his own conditions.

Jungkook wanted to be alone with you - security just outside the door. He had promised to never hurt you - a promise you didn’t believe in the slightest. He isn’t bound, either, no cuffs or chains to restrain him if he desires to cause you any harm.

“Y/L Y/N,” you speak, the recorder on the table right in the middle. You ignore his complement. “And I am here with Jeon Jungkook.”

“Also known as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook speaks, a hint of mischief and humor in his voice. His eyes, dark and doe like, twinkle underneath the white lights. 

Jungkook is proud to be what he is - a murderer. He gained respect, adoration and notoriety for being such. Why be an outstanding human being when people would grow fond of you just by your looks and charisma alone, completely ignoring the way you heinously slain human life?

“Jungkook,” you murmur. There’s a glass of water beside you and you had the sudden urge to take a sip. 

“I like the way you say my name.” Jungkook’s right hand allows his head to lean upon it as he blinks towards you. 

“Stop flirting with me.” you demand, snatching the glass of water and taking a gulp.

“Why? Is it because you like what I’m saying?” he murmurs, voice dropping in tone. “What if I’m not flirting with you?”

“Don’t try to manipulate me.” you snort, slamming down the glass onto the metal table. “Those letters you’ve sent me were inappropriate. What do you gain from them?”

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, allowing a low chuckle from his lips. “Why not?” he murmurs, eyes unmoving from your face. “Shouldn’t you be happy that you have my undivided attention? I send you flowers every day.”

“C-Covered in blood!” you hiss, taken aback. “Who delivers them?”

“Why worry yourself with irrelevancies?” Jungkook waves your question off. “You’re here to interview me, are you not? Ask me anything you wanna know!”

You watch as Jungkook leans back into his seat and waits for you to ask him questions. It was a staring match between the two of you - his dark eyes unmoving and seemingly, unblinking. You weren’t one to give up a challenge, either, but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t intimidating. 

“Why have you murdered innocent people?”

Jungkook snorts once more. He licks his lips, eyes trailing over your body with such perverseness that it causes your skin to crawl. 

“Why…not?”

The tone in Jungkook’s voice - so nonchalant and uncaring. As if the question wasn’t worth his time answering. He stares right back at you, his eyes admiring the way your eyebrow would twitch cutely with irritation.

“I mean,” Jungkook leans forward once more. “even you said that there was a possibility that there wasn’t a motive behind my actions, correct? That I was nothing but a monster that killed just because.”

Not exactly your words, but it’s what you did imply. You recall speaking with Reporter Lee about the situation towards the beginning of his killing spree.

“Is that why you killed those reporters?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yes and no,” he admits. “I killed them because of you honestly.”

You freeze, slowly widening your eyes. You should stop the interview right here and now and leave - you didn’t want to be caught up in whatever mess Jungkook was attempting to drag you into.

“W-What-”

“I saw how they treated you, Y/N. As if you were nothing.” Jungkook shakes his head. “As if you didn’t work just as hard as them. Maybe even harder.”

A tattooed hand places itself onto the cool metal table. Jungkook lightly taps his fingers against it. 

“Sure, they upset me because they talked shit about me live. But so did you.” Jungkook throws a low smirk your way. “I killed them so you could be at the top. I’d admit…I thought I would scare you away at first. See how committed you were to your craft…and you proved to be stronger than any of those men.”

“I…” you’re unsure what to respond with. Could you be charged as an accessory - surely not! You had not known what Jungkook’s intentions were or been a part of them. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

“You mean…you didn’t want me to?” Jungkook questions with a raised eyebrow. He chuckles at your flustered expression. “This interview isn’t getting aired, huh, Y/N? It’ll make you look bad, too.”

Jungkook halts his tapping against the table. “Or I can say whatever you want me to.” he shrugs. “So you can be in a positive light.”

“Why are you doing this?” you question, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding so fast outside your chest.

“Doing what?” Jungkook asks innocently. 

“I’m not one of your fucking fangirls!” you hiss, hands clenched into fists. “You can’t manipulate-”

“Calm down.” Jungkook raises both hands. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. What would I gain from that? I’m locked away for the rest of my life.”

Your hands unclenched so you could rub your temples. You take a deep breath.

“You taunt me, Jungkook.” you say behind gritted teeth. “You keep sending me letters and flowers and…you have people watch me! I don’t feel safe. Tell me what you want.”

Jungkook raises both brows. “Why don’t you feel safe? They won’t harm you.” he says, a bit of concern - you’re unsure if it’s fraudulent or not - in his voice.

“You’re a serial killer.” you deadpan with a scoff of disbelief. “Why would I feel safe being involved with you?”

“You aren’t dead.” Jungkook interjects. “Have I ever harmed you? Have I ever put my hands on you…?”

Jungkook watches you as he awaits a response. You bite the inside of your cheek. You were beginning to think that he was the interviewer and you were the one locked in a prison. 

“I watched you sleep at night…tossing and turning.” Jungkook’s voice drops again, a hushed whisper as if he was revealing a secret - and in a way, he was. “Isn’t that insane? I managed to get past the officers parked outside your home…past several cameras and made it right into your bedroom…”

A chill runs up your spine once his words register. Your mind races, going through countless memories of times you woke up randomly in the middle of the night. You told yourself that you were just frightened; rightfully so. Jungkook had slain countless innocent civilians and reporters that you just knew that you were next.

Jungkook suddenly inhales, leaning a bit closer to you from across the table. He sighs. 

“I can even smell the perfume you wear. Chanel, right? You have a bit of an expensive taste.”

It was obvious that Jungkook wasn’t lying and the thought of him being so close the entire time causes the hair on your skin to rise. Your lips  part and you let out a strained gasp.

“I don’t want you dead, Y/N. You fascinate me, you know?” 

“I think I’m done.” you murmur in a rush, your hand reaching out to grasp the small recorder to stop, but Jungkook is faster. His tattooed hand slams on top of it before yours could and you flinch away as if he was going to strike.

“Interview’s over so soon?” Jungkook questions with a raised eyebrow. “You barely asked me any questions.”

“I need to go.” 

Jungkook tilts his head. “Are you scared of me, Y/N?” he asks as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at what this man - a sick individual - could be possibly speaking of. What in the world could you want from him?

“You wanted to be a respected reporter and I made you one.” Jungkook clicks off the recorder himself and slides it towards you. “People were tuned in to watch you because of me. You would be in the shadows if I had not taken out the competition.”

“T-That’s not-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. I killed them because of you.” Jungkook hisses, dark eyes not blinking. “Reporter Lee…Reporter Jung…they’re dead because of you.”

That same shiver runs up your spine at Jungkook’s words. You’re stiff, heart pounding outside your chest and mind screaming at you to leave - screaming that Jungkook was wrong; but that he was also right. 

Your career had elevated because of the deaths of the reporters reporting on the Beast of Busan. You were determined to not allow that to stop you from doing what you loved - but in truth, Jungkook had not killed you because you were cautious; he didn’t because he had no desire to. 

“How about this?” Jungkook’s eyes blink and in a moment, it’s as if he’s the same boy next door. “You can write a book? Or maybe do a little series…how about a podcast?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “And I’ll be nice and cooperative. You’ll be even more successful.”

You want to laugh in his face, but even now you don’t dare to. 

You had no desire to be more successful because of Jungkook as, no matter how cruel, it was true that your success depended on the death of innocent people.

“What do you want from me?”

Jungkook chuckles. It’s amazing how he could turn the sadistic side of him off and appear like an everyday man with charm. “I want you, silly.” he responds with a shake of his head, as if it was such a comical and obvious question. “I want to see you every other day!”

“I-I don’t-”

“Or I can speak to someone else.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Now that I’m no threat to the public, I have people lining up for interviews.”

“Then maybe you should speak to someone else.” you hiss, snatching your recorder from the table and when you’re about to stand is when Jungkook responds. 

“And I’ll tell them you were an accomplice.” Jungkook brings his fingers to his lips and makes a hushed shushing sound. “That you had me kill those reporters to elevate your career.”

You breath hitches at Jungkook’s words. “That’s not true…!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Jungkook snorts. “But I’m already in jail with nothing else to lose.” he shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, c’mon. You out of all people survived against the Beast of Busan? The last reporter standing?” he snickers. 

“Stop…” 

“Look how much it elevated your career, Y/N. Out of all the people I agreed to see…it was you. Investigators can check the visitors log and prove that you were an accomplice.”

“Stop it!” you want to scream, but it’s hushed and strained. 

“Don’t look like that, Y/N. I hate to see you look so sad.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I don’t want to do that, you know?”

“What do you want from me?” 

Jungkook hums, his lips forming a smile that’s laced with sadism. “I want you. Is that too much to ask for? I want you to grace my presence with your pretty face and in return…you’ll have an inclusive story from the Beast himself.” 

Jungkook then laughs at the way he says the Beast - the way he speaks about himself. 

“You would be a renowned reporter turned…author, maybe? Who knows?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders and waves his hands. “How about…you come back tomorrow and we can start from the beginning. You can ask me anything you’d wish to know and I’ll answer truthfully.”

You sniffle, your nose scrunching cutely that Jungkook couldn’t help but want to coo. 

You release a deep breath, your mind screaming at you to run as far away as possible - but you only know that it wouldn’t be the end; it never will. Jungkook has eyes on you constantly and it causes your skin to crawl and now, you’d be unable to know just who was one of his followers. If you denied Jungkook now, he would only lie to the press and have you in jail alongside him.

“O…Okay.” you murmur quietly, your tone - along with your expression - defeated. 

“Lovely.” Jungkook claps his hands together, dark eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. “You should wear that dress you have in your closet tomorrow. The sundress.”

You feel the familiar shiver run up your spine once more.

Jungkook watches you from the small screen in the corner of the all white room. His head is tilted to the side as you speak to the interviewer - you looked so beautiful, he thinks. His pen is tapping against the notebook he’s currently drawing you in, the blue ink displaying such a lovely picture of you that he keeps in his sketch book - the third one he has filled up so far.

 You were glowing as you spoke to the reporter. You were truly a work of art with a heart of gold that he admires as others would have allowed the new found fame to get to their heads - but not you. You were the special ones on Earth, someone so noble.

“Now Y/N, talk to me. How did it feel to be so close to him?” the interviewer asks you and Jungkook visibly straightens up as he awaits your response. “I mean, it had to be terrifying being next to the Beast of Busan himself!”

“At first it was.” you nodded your head. “But I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the one incarcerated.”

Jungkook hums at your response. 

“You managed to come face to face with a serial killer and you weren’t the least bit scared?”

“Of course not.” you snorted. “Jeon Jungkook gained notoriety because we as a society gave it to him. Why do we call him the Beast of Busan when he’s nothing but a regular human being like you and I? A terrible one at that.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s eyes begin to widen at your words. Is that what you thought of him after all the long hours he’s helped you with your site? That he was nothing but a terrible person - as if he wasn’t the one who encouraged you to profit off of his story?

“My time alongside Jungkook wasn’t something I’ve enjoyed.” you shook your head. “He’s a psychopath that lacks any form of accountability. He’s…in a way, a scared little boy.”

The pen is being clenched in the palm of his hand so tight that it begins to pulse. He can feel the array of eyes of inmates on him as your words repeat over and over again in his head.

“In one of the episodes, Jungkook states that there wasn’t a reason for what he’s done. Do you think that’s true?”

“There’s always a reason for why people do what they do. It’s cowardly, in my opinion, for someone to take innocent lives. I’m sure there had to be a deeper reason for why Jungkook did what he did, but I won’t dig any deeper into his life.” you explained, nodding your head to the interviewer. “I’ve done my job and now, I want to not give any more recognition to Jeon Jungkook. I want him to be a distant memory in the back of all of our heads.”

The metal chair squeaks harshly as he slams his body up. A few inmates all gasp and cover their ears as Jungkook screams, hurling the notebook - all filled with portraits of you - across the room. He was angered - rightfully so. You had used him for your own gain and threw him aside as if he was nothing.

As if he wasn’t the reason why you - a reporter - was being interviewed. He was the reason you had no competition in a world where you were never respected.

He was the reason you reached a status that was once so unattainable - and now you claim to be done with him?

Jungkook’s body begins to spasm as he feels an intense pain all over it. He falls to his knees, a few hands on him forcing his arms behind his back. Your voice lingers in the back of his head as he’s dragged out of the room and down the hall towards his own holding cell.

You take a few deep breaths as the interviewer requests a brief commercial break. You were a bundle of nerves, but you were used to being on the camera, just not the one being interviewed.

“You got this.” Jimin smiles at you, handing you a bottle of water. “You look so…”

“Nervous? Scared out of my mind?” you joke, unscrewing the water bottle. “I know Jungkook is going to see this interview.” If he hasn’t already. 

“I’m sure he will. He is sitting in a prison with nothing else to do.” Jimin snorts. 

You begin to chug the water nervously, your throat feeling utterly parched after having been interviewed on Live television. 

“I know you think it’s crazy for me to feel this way.” you lick your lips as you finish the water bottle entirely. “But you know how Jungkook’s followers are. What if-”

“They won’t.” Jimin places a hand onto your shoulder. “You’ve moved into a gated community and a safer environment overall. Stop worrying yourself.”

It was easier said than done as day by day, you received countless phone calls from Jungkook - all of which you declined. You had not returned to the prison as your work was done and you decided to wash your hands clean of the man. 

The phone calls never stopped - not until you changed your number. It was a decision that would be utterly annoying - having to give your number to the right people and change everything around with emails and personal security, but it was a breath of fresh air.

Only for a moment, as Jungkook was always determined to make your life a living Hell.

The first letter you received you had not known it was from Jungkook - not until you read it and immediately recognized the handwriting. 

You had thrown it away immediately.

The letters came - almost daily. You had decided to install cameras to see who was placing these letters onto your door, and coincidentally, they had stopped and instead were placed right into your mailbox.

Each letter received became more and more aggressive, detailing how pissed he was that you used him and tossed him aside as if he was nothing.

“I made you what you are today.”

“You’d be nothing without me.”

“You are just as bad as me exploiting the lives of innocent people.”

That last statement stung, causing your heart to ache, but even then you had not bothered to return to the prison and face Jungkook like he had asked you to. 

The police were useless - stating that there was nothing they could do seeing as Jungkook had not sent them to you directly and instead, through a third party. 

“I can’t keep dealing with this.” you say to Jimin one afternoon, eyes dark due to exhaustion from lack of sleep. You always swore you saw things at night - maybe it was the paranoia getting to you. You always see Jungkook lurking in the shadows when you are seconds from falling asleep.

“I can’t eat Jimin. I can’t sleep….I can barely get out of bed.” you murmur, legs shaking with anxiety as your eyes dance around. “I know he isn’t there but…someone is. Someone is always watching me.” you continue. “They know where I live and what’s stopping them from-”

“They would have already, Y/N.” Jimin interrupts, shaking his head. “Just…try to relax. This is what Jungkook wants to happen. He wants to drive you insane so you’d end up where he’s at.”

You swallow back a response. 

“Have you talked to anyone about this besides me? Maybe you should see a therapist?” Jimin suggests. “You’ve endured a lot, Y/N. You were face to face with a serial killer who’s hell bent on dragging you down. It’s not going to be an easy ride.” Jimin furrows his brows. “I can schedule you an appointment.”

“I haven’t left my house in months, Jimin.” you scoff - ever since you received drawings from Jungkook. They were of you wearing a particular outfit you had worn to a trip to the store. Now, all of your interviews are done from your own home. It was a blessing that the interview with Jungkook had garnered you an insane amount of money - but a curse that now you could barely manage to leave your home without wondering if you’re being watched. 

“I can have someone come to you.” Jimin waves his hand.

“No.” you shake your head hastily. “I-I-”

“I’ll be here.” Jimin interjects. “I can sit with you or I can sit right outside the room. Trust me, Y/N…” Jimin has never seen you like this before. You weren’t sleeping and barely eating. You were stressed and full of anxious nerves. You haven’t gone outside in months, and if you had it was only to your front door. “...if it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to talk to her again.”

This is how you found yourself currently, sitting in your large living room where Jimin sat not too far away. A therapist he recommended, an older woman with cat-like glasses stares back at you. She seems kind, you think. 

“Please, take all the time you  need to think about the question.” she says and in your mind, a clock is clicking over and over again.

“I…I’m not sure.” you admit. “I know he’s never going to be released from jail but…I know he’s having me followed and watched.”

The woman nods her head slowly, listening closely. 

“It’s crazy to think that I was less frightened when he was just the Beast of Busan. Nothing but an entity without a face.” you snort at yourself, withering in self-pity. “But now that he’s incarcerated, it’s like…he owns me.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N.”

“Are they?” you asked truthfully. “I…I feel like I shouldn’t be terrified for my life because I’m not an actual victim of his.”

“Why do you believe you are not?” your therapist questions with a raised brow. “You are being threatened constantly by him.”

You nod slowly - but she doesn’t know what Jungkook has told you many months ago concerning his threats. Jungkook had admitted to not wishing to kill you, yes - but it was a matter of time until he did something to cause you harm. You’re positive his initial thoughts of leaving you unharmed has since disappeared. 

“I understand but…physically, I’m alright.” 

Your therapist tilts her head. 

“Mentally?” she questions. “Emotionally? Spiritually…?”

“Drained.” you murmur.

“Infection.” 

Jungkook turns his eyes towards the faint sound, his body feeling utterly exhausted. His throat was dry and he longed for water. 

“You’re awake.”

Jungkook’s eyes are the nurse, a petite woman that checks the IV connected to his arm.

“You must be thirsty.” the nurse murmurs, a bloody tint to her cheeks when Jungkook’s bat’s his long lashes at her.

“How long?” Jungkook’s voice is hoarse. “...you said infection.” he goes to move his wrist, just to find that they are bound to the hospital bed. His eyelids blink a few more times, now realizing that he did not recognize where he was at.

“For a few days.” the nurse struggles, putting down her clipboard. “You were transported here after passing out.”

Jungkook swallows thickly, his throat aching. His lips were as dry as his throat, and as his tongue coats them he can feel the cracks against it.

“I have to pee.” Jungkook’s voice continues.

The nurse widens her eyes slightly. “I-I…”

“Please.” Jungkook begs, panting. He sits up on the hospital bed, his body heavy. 

Maybe it’s the way Jungkook looks so disheveled and in a great amount of pain that the nurse slowly nods her head. She doesn’t find any red flags in doing what she does next. She assists Jungkook up, having him lean against the bed as she manages to unbind his wrists from the bed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook murmurs as he enters the bathroom connected to the hospital room. He closes the door behind him as the lights flicker on.

Jungkook looks into the mirror, dark bags underneath his eyes. He closes them for a bit as he takes a long, deep breath.

Jungkook’s mind flashes with images of you and instantly, his blood begins to boil. Even if it's been a year since your live interview, it’s all he can think of in his mind. He shakes his head, scoffing to himself at your audacity - something he could never get over.

“Are you alright in there?”

The nurse knocks onto the door after about 10 minutes, her head pumping. The hospital is quiet and the eerie silence startles her; a complete unsettling feeling.

Jungkook turns on the water and begins to wash his hands, his eyes never leaving his reflection.

“I’m sorry.” 

Jungkook murmurs once he opens the bathroom door. He has a bit of a limp, notices the nurse. 

“My body is so…heavy.” Jungkook swallows once more. “Can I get some water, please?”

The nurse slowly nods her head. Jungkook eyes the way her frame slightly trembles as he steps closer to her, an obviously frightened look in her eyes as she knew who he was and what he is capable of.

“It’s amazing how you can even be standing up. You’re under so much…” the nurse trails off, swallowing. There’s already a large jug of water on the rolling cart that's full of water. It’s warm now, all the ice having melted, but it’s water nonetheless. “H-Here.” she says, delicate hands going to grab the jug to hand it to the man.

Jungkook takes the jug in his hands with a nod of his head. He places it upon his lips and instantly moans when the water touches his tongue. He possibly appears like a caveman, downing the water without any manners.

The nurse watches closely as a trail of water slides down the corners of Jungkook’s lips, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the water, completely dehydrated.

“Thank you.”

Jungkook exhales. His eyes roam around the dim-lit hospital room. The blinds upon the large window are drawn and it’s dark, possibly early morning. He doesn’t have a clock in here to see exactly what time it is.

“You said…there was an infection?” Jungkook questions the nurse, holding out the jug of water for her to take. 

“Yes.” the nurse nods, taking the jug in her hands and placing it onto the cart. “I can get you more water in a moment.”

“That would be amazing.” Jungkook slowly cracks a smile. “Where am I? Am I still in Gyeongju?”

The nurse shakes her head. “No, you were transported to Ulsan.” she responds. 

Ulsan. Jungkook hums - he wasn’t far from Busan; meaning he wasn’t far from you. 

“Please lay down.” the nurse speaks suddenly. “I have to put these cuffs back onto you.”

Jungkook blinks, then slowly nods his head. “Yeah. You do.”

 Jungkook goes to sit down on his hospital bed. He had a bit of a limp, but nothing too major. He just needed to walk around more to regain the strength back onto his legs. 

“Thank you so much.” Jungkook lifts his left arm up so the nurse can place the cuffs upon them. “You…are very kind. You must love what you do here.”

The door to the room opens and in comes a doctor, who stops dead in his tracks as he eyes the way the nurse has the cuffs in her hands. She’s startled, and within a few seconds, Jungkook jumps up and wraps an arm around her neck.

“Close the door gently.” Jungkook demands, his voice sinisterly low. His eyes glare at the doctor, the nurse’s neck held roughly between his arms. 

“Why did you uncuff him?” the doctor seethes at the nurse, closing the door behind him. “Do you not know who he is?”

“Jeon Jungkook. The Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head. “Take your clothes off.”

“You…don’t have to do this.” the doctor raises his hands. “You’re not going to get far-”

Jungkook pushes the nurse in front of him. She cries out when her hair is yanked.

“I will kill her right now!” Jungkook hisses. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

The nurse's arms reach back to tug away Jungkook’s hands from her hair, hot tears falling down her cheeks.

“Okay, okay…” the doctor swallows thickly, pulling off his white coat first. “Don’t hurt her, okay? I’m doing what you ask.”

The doctor's dress pants are next, a shiver running through his body as he does this. How embarrassing this was - and how angered he felt for the naivety of one of his nurses. 

“Pass them to me.” Jungkook instructs. “Gently.”

The doctor gatherers his clothing and begins to walk towards Jungkook. Without much warning, Jungkook slams the nurse aside, her body hitting one of the monitors. Jungkook moves quickly in grabbing the doctor by his neck next, slamming his head down onto the ground.

In horror, the nurse begins to cry even harder, a hand clasping down onto her lips. Her tears are blurring her vision, and she could only hear the way the doctors head slams against the white floor over and over again until Jungkook was satisfied.

“Stop all that fucking crying.” Jungkook hisses, throwing the doctor to the side for a moment. “I haven’t put my hands on you enough to be crying. Get up.”

“N-No, no, please-”

“I said get up!” Jungkook hisses, getting to his feet to yank the poor woman to her feet. He pushes her towards the now dead doctor, blood oozing all over the floor. “Clean the blood up.” he instructs.

Jungkook didn’t have time to waste. He grasps the doctor and places him onto the bed, covering him with the thin sheets. It was a matter of time before someone - anyone - would find out he wasn’t here, and he planned to be long gone before then. 

“I’m not going to kill you.”

The nurse’s crying hasn’t stopped, her trembling hands cleaning up the stained blood the best she could. Jungkook had closed the blinds as he dressed in the doctor's garments. He wanted the room to be as dark as possible.

“You’re the reason why I’m getting out of here. Your life can be spared.” Jungkook explains, placing on the dress shoes and tying them tightly. “But, if you don’t listen, that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” the nurse cries.

“Do you have a car?” Jungkook questions. “We need to get out of here.”

“W…We?”

Jungkook wants to laugh at the look upon her face. He had managed to place a mask over his lips.

“You’re not staying here.” Jungkook quips, amused. “I need you to walk me out of here and to your car.”

“Where…please I-I can’t-”

“Get the fuck up.” Jungkook’s demeanor changes once more, his patience running thin. He’s unsure where the officers are at, and he needs someone familiar with the hospital to show him  around. “Take me to your car…or any fucking car now. Make a scene, and I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” Jungkook says. “I don’t want to do that. You look so young…”

Jungkook places a tattooed hand onto the woman's head, patting her gently. “...a long life ahead of you. Just listen, and it’ll be over sooner than later.”

“You think it’s all over?”

It’s a question you ask yourself. A few months prior, the phone calls, gifts and letters all stopped - and the dreadful feeling you once felt at being watched slowly subsided. You actually felt like you could leave your home again - but you always remained cautious.

Your security cameras haven’t picked up any movement like you usually had; how Jungkook’s followers managed to hide within the shadows was beyond you.

You felt as if you could finally breathe the fresh air of freedom once more. Your therapy sessions worked and you could only thank Jimin for that.

Some people in the public didn’t like you for obvious reasons. They called you a sellout for interviewing Jungkook, but you couldn’t dwell on those who didn’t like you. The victims' families weren’t upset with you for sharing their fallen loved one stories, and that’s all you could focus on.

“I hope so.” you murmur over the phone to Jimin. “I haven’t heard anything about him and I’m glad.”

The night is quiet and moonless, and it goes just about the same as it usually does. Jimin checks in on you, and he and you share a conversation. It varies, usually being about an hour before he bids you a goodnight.

Tonight was no different, you having placed your phone right on your nightstand and laying yourself against your cool pillow. You release a sigh, eyes instantly feeling heavy. You enjoyed sleeping to white noise as it relaxed you, the total silence that would be in your room had an eerie feeling you never enjoyed.

Jungkook didn’t hate you like he should - like he thought he would’ve when his eyes fall upon you. However, he doesn’t. He cannot bring himself to.

Jungkook understands that for the last few months leading up to the year of him being incarcerated, you had ultimately betrayed him. To think he, Jeon Jungkook, also known as the Beast of Busan, had given you a platform. You, a reporter who wasn’t respected in your field of work. Your fellow reporters looked down upon you just because you were a woman in a field dominated by the opposite sex.

Jungkook had killed them off, deciding that he would test you. You had passed his test and he did what he sought out to do - cause more chaos. Maybe that’s what attracted him to you. The fact that you weren’t afraid of him. It amused him no doubt, the way you continued to report on his day by day without any fear in your eyes. 

While reporters continued to drop dead just by reporting on Jungkook, the more certain reporters quit their jobs. Except you. Certain news outlets didn’t wish to report on him. Magazines, radios. Bravery such as this was only a dime a dozen; you captivated him.

Of course,  you were brave, but dumb. Jungkook had allowed you to get a million dollar interview with him. An interview that would make you millions and gain the same amount of notoriety, and even then you decided to betray him.

“Y/N and I are soulmates, you know?”  Jungkook had spoken to the nurse while he drove down the dark road, bright headlights beaming. “You don’t think I’m wrong, right? I have the right to be upset with her.”

Jungkook takes a step closer to you. Your sleeping figure lays on your right side, an arm underneath your head. 

“No…”

“Don’t just say that because you’re scared.” Jungkook groans with a roll of his eyes. “I gave Y/N everything! She betrayed me. She…she left me. After she promised she wouldn’t!”

Only half of your body is beneath the comforter, a trait you had once in a deep sleep. Your arms are exposed. With his tattooed hand, Jungkook, ever so gently, traces up your arms. He lightly taps, tilting his head as you stir a bit, but don’t quite wake up.

You hum audibly, your body causing a shiver to run up your spine and throughout your entire body. You feel the skin on your arm raise, your eyes not yet opening.

“Ji…min…?” you murmur, feeling light taps onto your arm. You’re unsure why you spoke Jimin’s name first, as he would not have entered your home unannounced; even if you had given him the key.

Your eyes slowly open, the white noise in the background finally reaching your ears once more as you begin to regain consciousness. Your eyes blink a few times to focus on the figure before you, your room not completely dark as you once enjoyed it to be in the past.

“You’re awake.” Your body stiffens while your heartbeat begins to quicken. That familiar voice startles you, causing you to go into complete shock.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jungkook begins to chuckle, pulling his hand away from your arm as he watches you in complete amusement.

Your body suddenly jolts yourself away from the man as if he burned you. Your body falls completely off of your bed and it’s harder to see him now, but you cannot bring yourself to care right now. You’re in fight or flight mode - and there was no way you could fight Jungkook.

Your mind had to be playing tricks upon you, as Jungkook was locked away for life. There was no reason whatsoever for him to be out and before you. This had to be a dream; a nightmare. You were still asleep and desperately needed to wake up.

“You’re afraid.” 

Jungkook’s voice is closer, as are his footsteps increasing towards you. 

“N-No…!”

You try to crawl away, but there’s a sudden hold onto your ankle that drags you back.

You release a sudden scream that comes deep within your throat, your mind now screaming along with you that this was real. Jungkook was actually here - right in your home.

“Stop acting like that.”

Jungkook, no matter how amusing he finds you to be, is growing irritated with your actions.

“I’ve never hurt you before. You don’t have a reason to be frightened!”

You’re pushed onto your back harshly, Jungkook above you. His face is too close for comfort and instantly, you turn yours away.

“I gave you everything…” 

Jungkook’s tone lowers from his loud, abrasive one. He lowers it now, talking directly to you instead of at you.

Jungkook's voice sounds…hurt.

“I gave you everything…and yet you betray me.” Jungkooks teeth grits. “I gave you a fucking platform to exploit me and the victims you pretend to care about.”

“You didn’t give me anything.” you find your own voice to speak. It’s low compared to his, and lacking any confidence.

“No…?” Jungkook scoffs in near disbelief. “No!” he then screams, echoing off of your wall. “You’d be nothing but a bitch on the sidelines if it wasn’t for me!”

Jungkook pushes you away, your head hitting the tiled ground abruptly.

“Reporter Lee would’ve taken all of your shine! You stupid,” Jungkook places two fingers, index and middle, onto your cheek and pokes you as if you’re a child. “stupid, stupid girl! I’m the one that allowed you to make millions off of my story!”

Your cheek begins to throb with how rough Jungkook was being. You squirm beneath him.

“And for what? For you to betray me?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. “I never spoke to anyone else. I’ve kept quiet this entire time!” he hisses. “I was loyal to you and you betrayed me.”

Jungkook pushes himself away from you. He needed to relax himself before he did something he’d regret. He inhales deeply before exhaling, counting to ten in his mind.

You raise a shaky hand to your cheek and hold it a bit, your eyes swelling with tears. You let out a shaky breath after a few moments.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

You knit your brows at Jungkook’s words, your tears now falling. You want to run as far as you can go, but you're paralyzed to your bedroom floor. 

“I would’ve stayed in prison if you would’ve come back.”

You hear shuffling.

“I wouldn’t have murdered the doctor or security guard.”

Your heart begins to pound even louder as he admits to murder. Your mind is racing with countless questions that you have. How had Jungkook escaped? How many people has he slain just to get to you? Did he work alone?

“I wouldn’t have kidnapped that naive nurse and-” Jungkook stops speaking abruptly just as you feel your nightgown being tugged harshly, yanking you up from your fetal position. “-I wouldn’t be here.”

Your tears fall down your cheeks as you squeeze them shut, an attempt to rid yourself of Jungkook. You recall doing this at any given situation when you were a child; rid yourself of the boogeyman.

“What have I done to you personally Y/N?” Jungkook questions, grasping your jaw between his fingers to force you to look at him. “Look at me. Answer my question.”

Your eyes blink open, more tears pooling out almost instantly. You shake your head to get away from Jungkook, your mouth parting open to release a few whimpers.

“I never hurt you, didn’t I? I never hurt anyone you love.” Jungkook shakes you slightly, as if to get right through you. “I allowed you to live a good life, right? I gave you a story and you ran with it. Look at where you live!”

“Please stop.” you cry out. “You can’t be here, Jungkook-”

“You’re right.” 

Jungkook doesn’t move, deeply inhaling. 

“You can’t be here, either. Get up.”

You’re stunned for a moment, swallow that thick lump in your throat as Jungkook gets onto his feet. 

“I said get up.” Jungkook grits as though he’s speaking to a child. “Grab some clothes.”

You shake your head ever so slowly,  your eyes widening. “I’m not leaving with you, Jungkook.” you whisper out. “You need help…”

Your hands are shaking as you lift them up, reaching for him. 

“Y-You need help and…I can’t go with you to-”

“The only way I’m leaving without you is if you’re dead.” Jungkook deadpans.

The crazed look in Jungkook’s eyes frightens you to your core, your hand immediately falling to your lap as another single tear drops from your eye.

“I don’t want to kill you, Y/N. You and I,” Jungkook points to himself then to you. “were meant to be together. For months I poisoned myself enough to get an infection. Dangerous enough that they had to transport me outside of the prison.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to gasp.

“I laid for who knows how long planning my escape and finally…finally I did it.” Jungkook’s lips curve upwards. There's no doubt that Jungkook is insane, a serial killer. Someone who could kill so easily and effortlessly without any remorse isn’t someone you wish to be with. His face is handsome, and you ponder just how someone like someone could be such a heinous individual.

“Get up. Grab some clothes and let’s go.” Jungkook murmurs. 

Your body feels heavy as you lift yourself to your feet. Jungkook’s beady eyes watch you, the dimness of your room adding a level of suspense that has your skin crawling.

You can’t go with Jungkook.

You can’t allow yourself to leave without a fight.

Your body acts on its own, turning around to sprint across your room to your bedroom door, prying it open and going down the hallway to wherever; as long as it was away from Jungkook.

Heavy footsteps follow behind you, but you cannot bring yourself to look behind you at the boogeyman hot on your trail.

The nurse is horrified, her own heart pounding when your screaming figure bursts through the living room. Her legs are up to her chest, seated upon your leather couch. She screams herself when your body collides with your glass coffee table. The forcefulness of it causes it to shatter.

Glass pierces into your skin. You feel the glass scrape across your skin as your ankles are being dragged backwards, your throat releasing the most bloodcurdling scream you’ve ever produced.

“Why don’t you listen, Y/N?!” Jungkook roars above you, his hands managing to stop your feet from kicking him. “Why do you force me to put my hands on you?!”

“D-Dont hurt her…!” the nurse cries, finally speaking up when Jungkook’s hands wrap around your neck, his body weight on top of yours. “...please, please…”

She’s unsure of what to do herself, her body completely paralyzed. She had followed Jungkook into your home with a guilty conscience and stayed out of pure fear, unsure of what to do.

Your lungs heave when air fills them again. You begin to cough. Jungkook releases your neck and pushes you away.

“Go in the room.” Jungkook says to the nurse. “Pack some of her clothes. Be quick. We’re leaving.”

The nurse, still paralyzed, looks between your heaving figure and Jungkook.

“Now!” Jungkook snaps.

It takes entirely too long for Jungkook’s liking. He didn’t enjoy manhandling you - he adores you. You, however, don’t listen. You never did so he cannot fully put you at fault. You were a stubborn woman and that’s what Jungkook loves about you. Even him, someone capable of harming you, you put up a fight against. Your courageousness excites him.

“W-Where…are we going?” the nurse asks after hours of driving. You had laid in the back of the car, fighting with nothing but will to keep yourself away. Jungkook had forced a pill into your mouth, obviously one of your sleeping pills he’s found in the cabinet. 

“We?” Jungkook asks, the sun slowly beginning to rise. “You can’t come with us.”

The nurse feels her heart jump.

“I’ll have to drop you off somewhere.” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes roaming around the lonely street. “A store. Gas station.”  he says. “I don’t expect you to not tell on me. But, by then…” He will be far gone.

“You want to be a victim so bad, Y/N.”

Your heart races in your chest as you run as fast as your body could away from the man. It did you no justice. Your body ached, covered in bruises and scratch marks. You felt entirely too groggily, your head pounding and eyes wishing they could close to sleep.

“Look at you.” Jungkook tsk’s with a shake of his head when you stumble and crash right on your ass like he knew you would. Your will can only get you as far as your body was willing to go. “Come lay down-”

Your leg jerks and your foot sends a powerful kick his way - one he catches. Impatient hands wrap around your ankle and Jungkook drags you. You begin to scream, arms flailing around for something - anything - you can get your hands on. The hardwood floor creaks beneath you and Jungkook’s struggling.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out - but it was long enough to know that you were far from home and where you laid, you had no recollection of. Fear struck you like lightning as your mind replayed the events like a bad dream - and it was confirmed when you turned yourself over on the bed you laid in and saw him.

Jungkook is stronger than you, of course, and he wasn’t going to keep tolerating your bad behavior. His hands are quick in grabbing you by your shirt and yanking you up onto your feet. He’s entirely too rough for his own liking. He slams your body against the wall, him directly behind you. He hates having to show the side of him that he shows everyone else. He doesn’t want to show you the Beast of Busan, but you refused to accept Jungkook. “You must be hungry.”

“Let me go.”

“You’re going to try to run again.” Jungkook snorts. Both of your hands are behind your back and your cheek is against the cold wall. “Your wounds are still fresh.”

You let out a short breath. “Because of you…”

“I know.” Jungkook loosens his grip on your wrists, but he doesn’t remove his body from you. He didn’t want to keep chasing you. “I apologize, but what do you expect me to do? I gave you strict orders and you disobeyed me.”

You sniffle a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek and remain silent. There wasn’t a point in trying to flee or fight Jungkook - that would leave you in a terrible position once more. Your body aches while your stomach rumbles in hunger. You were exhausted even after being unconscious for who knows how long.

“How about we talk?”  you ask meekly after a few moments of unmoving silence. 

“Of course.” Jungkook says, pushing his body away from your own. Your body shivers on its own once his warmth is no longer radiating off of you. “I’ve cooked-”

“Jungkook, please.” you say, turning around to face the man. “You can’t…you can’t be here.”

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, a small grin on his lips. “Of course I can,” he responds. “we’re here aren’t we?”

You blink.

“You are supposed to be in prison.” you murmur softly. Maybe if you attempted to speak with him then this would be easier. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that, Y/N. I’m not an idiot.” Jungkook chuckles. You look away from his face. You always hated looking at Jungkook because of how handsome the man was. “It’s your fault we’re in this predicament in the first place. Take accountability.”

Anger shoots through you rabidly and you want to scream at him, but you don’t. Jungkook is calm now and that’s how you need him to be.

“You promised to visit me. You used me for content that was my idea and threw me aside like I meant nothing to you.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches for your face and your body flinches. There’s a cut right on your cheek that he wishes wasn’t there. It was caused by the impact of your coffee table. His thumb rubs along it gently and he sighs. “You talked about me as if I was the scum of the Earth in that interview, Y/N.” he says softly. “It hurts my feelings.”

You turn your head away to remove Jungkook’s hand from your cheek. “You’re a murderer, Jungkook.” you spat out. “You…”

“Yet you’re alive.” Jungkook quips, this time snatching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “So is that nurse. I’ve matured while incarcerated, Y/N. I don’t kill unnecessarily anymore.” 

“What do you want, Jungkook?”

It’s a question that you’ve pondered the entire time, but was far too afraid to truly ask. How long had he been planning this? How far did he think this was going to go? Surely someone would realize that you were missing and connect the dots that you were either, A) missing alongside an escaped prisoner or B) dead due to the escaped prisoner.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jungkook laughs a boyish laugh that would be cute if it was anyone else besides him. Someone normal. “I want you, Y/N.”

A few silent seconds go by.

“You can’t have me, Jungkook.” you try to say as softly and monotone-like as possible to not set him off. “You…know that. We need to get you back to-”

Jungkook’s nails dig into your skin and you gasp at how suddenly his mood changes. Your head is shoved right back into the wall and your eyes widen as the innocent smile wipes from his lips.

“I could kill you right now and no one will know where you’re at Y/N.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to stiffen right in his grasp. Your heart races in your chest so fast that it’s concerning.

“I can kill both of us.” Jungkook shrugs. “Would you like that? You acted so holier than thou in that interview. I can see the headlines now about how your heroic sacrifice stopped the Beast of Busan.”

Hands grip at your through and you immediately let out a whimper. Jungkook hadn’t attempted to squeeze in the slightest, only touched, but it was enough for you to cower. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

Once more, Jungkook’s demeanor changes. His forehead places itself onto yours. 

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” Jungkook asks, his voice eerily soft. “I’ve fought so hard to get us here. We have a house and our own land. We have food and…” he trails off.

You don’t speak. Neither does Jungkook.

You stand there for what appears to be hours. You had to get your heart under control and you didn’t want Jungkook’s mood to change for the worse. However, you had questions that you needed answered before your head exploded.

“Where are we?”

Jungkook’s ear perked at your sudden voice. He lifts his head to look at you, tilting it a bit.

“Far from Busan.” Jungkook answers. “You won’t find your way around here even if you’ve tried, Y/N. I’d advise you not to leave the house without me.”

Fear sores through you once more and you swallow thickly. The look in Jungkook’s eyes is completely insane.

“Did you…kill someone for this home?”

Jungkook shakes his head,  doe-like eyes widening. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have us live on tainted land, Y/N.” he says with a chuckle. “It belongs to a friend.”

You wanted to ask how a serial killer had friends, yet refrain. Jungkook had followers. He had people who would send him countless letters - women who adored him and men who idolized him. It was terrible to think that someone who had no remorse for the crimes he committed could be put on a pedestal. As if he was some sort of God.

“How long do you expect for this to go on, Jungkook?” 

There was no way this was going to last long. Someone would come looking - or maybe it was something you were hoping for.

Jungkook grins once more. He wouldn’t tell you - not now at least - that there were options he was considering. For one, he could do this forever. Jump from countryside to countryside with you by his side with the help of his friends (or followers - whatever you wanted to call them). Or, he could do what he feels would be a bit more effective. Drag you alongside him until he decides he was done. 

That could be a week from now - or five years. Who truly knows?

“You hate me, Y/N.” Jungkook states. “That look in your eyes…pure disgust. But, it’ll change.” he says, determined. “After all, only you will know the real me. Jeon Jungkook.” he murmurs his name. “Not the Beast of Busan with blood on his hands. Now, let’s eat.”

Jungkook was correct - the house remained right in the middle of nowhere. Tall trees surround the entirety of the home that appeared to lead to nowhere. The sight appeared to be right out of a horror movie - especially at night. You refused to look outside as the dark often frightened you, an ironic feeling seeing as your nightmares remained right in the house with you.

Jungkook is many things.

A monster.

A murderer.

A psycho.

Jungkook is also an amazing cook. On your first few nights, you refused to eat. Not because you thought it would be poisoned. If Jungkook wanted you dead, poison would be the last thing on his mind. But simply because you wanted to defy him.

That, however, didn’t last long. As much as Jungkook adored you, if you wanted to be stubborn he was going to let you learn the hard way. On the fifth day, you gave up and ate the food, your tastebuds dancing. 

Jungkook is also surprisingly clean. He cleaned the home often - dusting and mopping occasionally. He washed yours and his clothing that always left a fresh linen scent on it that drove you crazy by how well it smelt. 

Jungkook, as you learned, was even a good singer. That act surprised you. He took up singing whenever he was busy cooking or cleaning. The melodic tune in his voice had drawn you in as if he was a siren or bard. It even angered you that you enjoyed the sound of his voice because this wasn’t normal. Serial killers didn’t sound like this.

Jeon Jungkook did, however.

Your eyes begin to flutter open and it’s right now you realize just how your body is.

That, and the obvious arm around your waist keeping you close.

You counted everyday you’ve been alongside Jungkook and each day you attempted a little harder to leave - all of which had failed. The first week was when Jungkook slept alongside you and since then, had not bothered to sleep elsewhere. You never went to sleep in his arms but somehow always woke up in them.

“Morning.”

You don’t move, swallowing a bit. 

Jungkook snuggles against you and inhales your scent - something he enjoys doing. You smell of lavender and vanilla and it’s a scent that he finds calming.

“Hey.” you say back quietly. You begin to squirm in his embrace. You didn’t want to be in Jungkook’s arms, a sullen feeling going through you. Not because it made you uncomfortable like you wanted it to. But because you found that his warm embrace was inviting. His own scent calmed you at times and his arms made you feel welcomed. Feelings that shouldn’t be associated with a murderer - you didn’t want to confide in Jungkook. You didn’t want to enjoy him in the slightest.

“You smell nice.”

You attempt to move away from Jungkook once more, but like before he holds you even tighter. Your back is against his chest and his arms tightens. 

“Why do you keep trying to get away from me?”

Jungkook’s breath tickles against your neck and it causes your skin to prickle with goosebumps.

“We shouldn’t be in this position.”

Jungkook hums. “Why not?”

Why not? Did you have to remind him that his actions are far from sane? Breaking out of prison, taking a nurse and you hostage and murdering whoever needed to be along the way. You lived in the middle of nowhere; who knows how far away from Busan you were. 

“We’re not…” Jungkook’s mood swings were unpredictable at times, but you managed to keep it going. If you did what he said, you would hope eventually he’d find the right mind to allow you to leave - even if it meant that he would keep running from the law. “...I need to go back home, Jungkook. I can’t stay here forever.”

Slow and steady, you think. Don’t be too forward or he might snap.

“Why would you go anywhere?” Jungkook’s lips are soft when they rub against you. Once more, you stiffen. You feel him against you, his bulge right against your own ass and you want to scream. “Don’t you like it here?”

No, you think. “I do.” you murmur, a bit of a lie. The home itself was beautiful and the entire land around you was a sight to see. However, not with Jungkook. “I just…have a life back in Busan.”

“Most people hate you and I.”

Jungkook’s words are blunt. His arm loosens around you so that his hand, as bold as his hips, places right on top of your clothed breast. The shirt you wore was the only coverage you had for him to not cop a complete feel.

“For every five people that like you, there’s 10 that also hate you.” Jungkook continues cooly. “Most of them are happy you’re gone. Why go back to them?”

Jungkook’s words sting and you understood it was because it was true. You did have a handful of people that despise you just because of Jungkook. You’ve read articles, against Jimin’s judgement, and saw just how many people hated you because of you choosing to platform Jungkook. Even if you did give his victims a story to tell and donate a massive amount of money to said victims' families, you were still looked at as less than.

It didn’t help that out of all the reporters, you were left alive. Theories were going around that you and Jungkook were something more - and that was the last thing you wanted to be true.

“You have a home over your head. Food, necessities, clothing.” Jungkook continues. “The air is fresher here than in Busan, too. You know that, right?” he continues, his palm lightly squeezing your breast over your shirt. You yelp to yourself at the sudden action. 

“Jungkook-”

Jungkook ruts his hips once more, squeezing your breast again. You can hear his breathing increasing from behind you.

“You don’t like being with me is what you’re saying?”

Jungkook snakes his hand beneath your shirt. It causes you to jolt a bit when his hand touches against your bare skin. It slides up the curve of your hip before sliding past your stomach.

“Are you still afraid of me, Y/N?”

Jungkook’s fingers tap against your skin teasingly. His voice appears deeper, more huskier, when he speaks. His hips rock against you, the bulge growing even harder when his hand touches your bare breast. 

“Yes.” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re afraid of me?” Jungkook repeats, his large palm squeezing your breast while your mind screams at you to fight him. To push him away in purse disgust - to remind yourself that this was a murderer. A cold blooded killer who took you away from your home. “I haven’t hurt you. Has your time with me been that bad?”

Jungkook doesn’t let the moan you let out go past his ears. His thumb and index finger pinches your nipple lightly, his lips pressing on the nape of your neck.

“P-Please stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you. The way your ass feels against him is euphoric. He’s waited to be able to touch you like this - to feel your breast in his palm. To smell the scent on your skin and those soft moans coming from your lips.

Maybe it was also the way you didn’t fight him like you had from the beginning.

“Do you not feel good?”

Jungkook is quick, removing his hand from your breast to grip your neck gently. He turns your head so that you’re facing him. He’s now hovering a bit above you, his dark eyes looking right through yours.

“It does.” Jungkook states, voice a whisper. “I see the look in your eye.”

Your mind continues to scream for you to move, but your body remains perfectly still.

Where would you go if you fought him?

How far would you be able to go before Jungkook dragged you back?

“It’s okay to…like me.” Jungkook disclosed. He licks his lips, pink tongue coating his lips in such a suave matter. “It’s okay to like how I make you feel.”

You had to swallow so you wouldn’t choke. Your heart is already pounding on your chest and you’re positive Jungkook can hear it.

“You’re not a good person.” you mumble, blinking a bit. “You’ve killed people.”

Jungkook’s thumb gently rubs along your chin. Slowly, his lips form a low grin - an arrogant one. “I never said I was a good person,” he responds. “But…you've never seen that side of me, have you?”

Damn him, you think. You didn’t need to see that side for you to know, yet you felt betrayed. What your mind is warning you, your body is betraying.

Jungkook leans down a bit, his nose lightly rubbing against yours. The action is far too intimate for your liking. 

“I promised you’d never see that side of me. If you were truly scared, Y/N, why haven’t you pushed me away yet.”

Jungkook could read you. You may have a bit of hesitance towards him as that was your right. Yet, you didn’t fight him like you did initially. You listened to him now. You ate alongside him. You allowed him to hold you at night.

“It’s because you like what I do, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs and without hesitance, presses his lips against yours. A jolt of electricity flows through you at the kiss.

Jungkook deepens the kiss, his hand roaming down inside of your shirt once more so he could grip  your breast. He rubs it in his palm, his hips continuing to rut against you.

“You,” Jungkook breaks the kiss, his tone a mere growl. “want me to touch you like this. You’ll never admit it to me or yourself.”

Jungkook is a bit rough, but not enough to cause any true fear throughout you. You’re on your back, shirt pulled up to your neck and your breast is on display for Jungkook. He hovers above you, caging you in between his legs. 

Jungkook’s hands hook in your shorts, eyes flickering up to watch you. You don’t stop him so he proceeds to pull them down. Your panties are a solid grey cotton material. It doesn’t pass his eyes that there’s a bit of moisture right at the center of your legs.

“You sure you don’t like my touch?” Jungkook ponders aloud, his hand placing itself onto your abdomen while his thumb presses against your clothed clit. 

Your body jolts at the sensation and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.”

Jungkook leans down and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss your lips like before. Instead, he goes right to your breast. His tongue pokes out to lick along your nipple and immediately, it hardens.

Your mouth falls open and gasps. Your eyes widen a bit. His thumb continues to rub along your clit while he begins to suck and lit on your nipple.

“J-Jungkook-”

Possibly it was the sound of your voice saying his name that causes Jungkook to groan, his mouth wrapping your nipple entirely. There was hesitance laced in it, but yet you didn’t push him away. You hadn’t told him to stop. You were going through an internal battle of mind v.s. body and as of right now, your body was winning.

Jungkook sucks out your nipple with a pop and goes onto the next breast. His thumb increases it past, the moisture seeping through so much so that he can feel it dampen the pads of his thumb. 

Your hands grip the sheets beneath you and you squeeze your eyes shut to get the image of Jungkook ravishing your breast of your mind. It follows you, however, as his slurping doesn’t make anything easier for you. 

“I can be good for you, Y/N.”

Jungkook's teeth grazes your nipples gently and it takes everything in you not to groan.

“I can make you feel good. I know you want it.” Jungkook’s tongue licks from your breast to between them, going a bit lower until he reaches your stomach. “What are you afraid of?”

The question had to be rhetorical. The answer was right there.

Jungkook was a psycho. A murderer. He was capable of hurting you with his bare hands without as much as caring.

And even then, your body wants Jungkook to continue what he has already begun. Your skin is warm and whatever hair you had on you was rising. Your chest heaves and you cannot deny the sensation between your legs he’s causing you, either.

“W-We can’t-”

Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s tugging off your panties and dips between your legs. His teeth bite right on your inner thigh, an act of possession that catches you off guard. You don’t have time to react before his lips are on your clit. 

Your back arches fully now and Jungkook holds your legs apart to keep you in place. His head bobs back and forth, his tongue flat as he works it between your folds. He’s slurping and grunting like a starved animal.

Your eyes snap shut once more, no longer able to contain the breathy moans that come out of you. Your fingers continue to grip the sheets tightly - so tight that you think if you continue, it’ll rip right in the palms of your hands.

Your taste is sweet and Jungkook doesn’t want to stop. It feels like a dream to have you before him, submitting fully. The countless days he thought about having your pussy on his face. As you interviewed him, he pondered about slamming you against the metal table and having his way with you. He calculated that if he did, how long it’d be until the guards got you off of him.

Such melodic moans coming through his ears that Jungkook knows you wouldn’t have fought him for long. You adored his hands on you just as much as you revered the way his tongue works through your folds. 

It takes every fiber in Jungkook’s body to remove himself from your pussy and he licks his lips to regain the flavor of your arousal. His eyes are completely dark and blown and it only meant there was no stopping him now.

“I’ve waited to taste you for so long, my love. You have no idea.”

“Jung…kook,”

You are silenced when Jungkook enters his fingers in you. He coats them with saliva before he does and doesn’t waste valuable time before he’s thrusting them inside of you. Your breathing hitches and the lewd sensation is entirely too pleasurable.

“Stop!” you hiss out, your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“You don’t want me to stop, my love. You’re leaking all over me.” Jungkook chuckles darkly, going down to flicker his tongue onto your sensitive clit. 

You couldn’t give it to what your body wants, you think. You wouldn’t allow Jungkook to have control over the one thing you had left. Your body was all you had, and even now he was taking that from you.

Jungkook’s eyes watch your face contort with pleasure, the corners of your eyes swelling with tears of pleasure. His tongue continues to lap against your throbbing clit, fingers pounding deeper and deeper.

It takes everything in you, but you manage. You land a single punch to Jungkook’s head with all the strength you could muster.

Your mind is taking over now and when Jungkook stumbles away from you, you take it upon yourself to get out. Adrenaline runs through you as you run out of the room. You weren’t wearing anything but your shirt, but you couldn’t stop. It’s morning, the sun just beginning to shine throughout the home. 

Your feet slam against the hardwood floor and it creeks underneath your feet. You hear heavier footsteps right behind you, but you don’t dare look back. It’s uncomfortable to run with arousal dripping down your thighs, but you had no time.

Your hands wrap around the doorknob to the front door and you slam it open. There had to be something just behind these trees that you-

A scream bursts through your lungs. Your hands immediately go towards your hair as you’re being yanked back just as your feet meet the grassy texture.

You’re unable to catch yourself when you’re slammed backwards towards the concert steps of the home. Your naked body scratches against it and you immediately wince. 

“Why don’t you listen?!” 

Jungkook roars in your face, veins pulsing in his neck. It’s the angriest you’ve ever seen of him.

“You don’t want me to treat you with respect.” Jungkook hisses, grasping your shoulders harshly and forcing you to turn around. Your face is against the concrete. “You want me to disrespect you.”

Embarrassment flows through you when a hand harshly slams against your ass. It stings, sending shock waves throughout your entire body.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Y/N?” Jungkook is pissed, striking you on the ass again. He shouldn’t have to do this to you. You were choosing to be difficult and in return, he had to punish you. 

Jungkook yanks your hair back and your body swings upwards and your back hits against his chest. The morning air is cool and it flows through your shirt.

“Luckily there’s no one around.” Jungkook murmurs. “Public indecency.”

Your cheek stings, throbbing with a possible scrape. 

“Is being here with me that horrible?” Jungkook questions, his grip on your hair tightening. There’s something in his voice - hurt? Was he upset at the thought of you not wanting to be around a murderer as if it shouldn’t be obvious. You were taken against your will. It isn’t as though he hadn’t forced you out of your home while unconscious.

“You don’t know how hard I’m trying.” Jungkook’s grits out. “It’s like you don’t give a damn about my hard work.”

Jungkook pushes you away. He doesn’t do it as rough as you would expect him to. His chest is rising and falling as he attempts to control his breathing and anger towards you.

You don’t want to look at Jungkook, afraid that if you do he would attack. Your body is trembling, the cool morning air not feeling the least bit good against naked skin. You wanted to curl up into a ball and be left alone.

“Get up. We’re going back in.” Jungkook takes a few moments. “You’re going to get yourself sick. How far did you think you were going to go without any clothing, Y/N?”

Adrenaline flows through you once more. When you feel Jungkook’s arms on your elbow, you swing your closed fist back and strike the man, unknowingly right in the face.

Jungkook stumbles back a bit at the impact, his right eye throbbing. You turn and face Jungkook finally, your eyes watching as he lets out a few swear words.

You, however, don’t move. You had little flight in you. Jungkook was right. You weren’t going to make it far naked and there was no way in hell he was going to let you out of his sight now that he knows you’re just going to attempt to run. 

“You’re getting bold.” Jungkook murmurs, blinking a few times to regain the sight in his eye. 

You go to attack Jungkook again, anger flowing through you. You send punches his way, majority of them he dodges or catches with his own hands. Some land on him - his neck, chest and shoulders. 

It upsets you after a few moments that Jungkook doesn’t appear as angry as before. His eyes remain dark and his face is nearly stoic, but you notice his anger subsided.

It upsets you even further. Your fingers dig into his own hair, yanking it until he falls right on top of you.

“Enough!” Jungkook hisses, pushing your body deeper against the cold and hard cement. He manages to grab hold of your arms. “You aren’t going to be satisfied until I actually hurt you.”

“You already did.” you hiss back, chest heaving.

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Jungkook forces your hands down and it scraps against the ground. “I would’ve gutted you if you were anyone else!”

You are completely still beneath him, his yell echoing off of the tall trees. 

“I wanted it to come naturally, Y/N. But if you won’t comply, I’ll just force the submission out of you.” Before you could blink, Jungkook is forcing you up onto your feet. He drags you inside the home and slams the door shut behind him. He pushes you away from him and you stumble. Quickly, you swirl around to face him.

“Pick your choice, Y/N. You’re either going to listen to me or not.”

You inhale deeply.

You’re unsure what has gotten through you. Maybe it’s because Jungkook, in a way, has been lenient with you. This was a man who’s killed far too many people to count, and yet he’s allowing you to defy him until you’ve given him the answer he wants. What he’s done to you is child’s play as you understood what he’s truly capable of.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.” you hiss low, voice fully of venom.

Jungkook tilts his head a bit, watching you. 

“You’re going to have to kill me.”

“I would never.” Jungkook retorts with a scoff. “What’s gotten through to you? This self righteous act you’re portraying is cute.”

Jungkook begins to smirk as if you were a joke and it causes anger to seep through you. Without much thought, your sprint towards him once more. You attack him, punching and scratching at him like an animal. The flashes of how frightened you were of him while incarcerated go through you. The long nights of staying up because you knew people were watching you. The bloodied roses and disgusting letters all at the hands of him.

Jungkook doesn’t put up much of a fight, allowing you to attack him for nearly five minutes until he thinks you have enough. He wraps you in a tight embrace to stop your attacks. The nearest area is the living room and he throws your body right onto the loveseat. You squirm in his embrace but Jungkook doesn’t let up. “You’re so cute when you’re angry, baby.” he murmurs against the skin of your neck. “Your attacks don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook presses himself against you. “If anything, it excites me.” he murmurs right in your ear, assuring that he shows you just how excited he was. His bulge sits right on your clit, twitching with excitement. “You want to make things harder then so be it. I’m a patient man."

pick your ending...

one | two

[ineffectualdemon]

I don't feel like Mobei is actually a trophy husband but I feel like he would like to play at it for funsie

Like giving Shang Qinghua his credit card so Shang Qinghua can take him on an indulgent shopping trip

Only he's buying incredibly practical and sensible (expensive) things so no one takes this as a trophy hubby spending spree. But it is one in his head so he's happy. Even though he's the one paying for it

I think Mobei likes the romance and pageantry of being a gorgeous bit of arm candy for his hot husband who provides for him but is too practical and too much of a control freak to live it out which is fine because he interprets his life that way anyway.

What Shang Qinghua Actually Says: I have finalised the report and rearranged all your other meetings so you can attend the dinner function with Luo Binghe and finally take out that rival you've been hunting

What Mobei Jun Hears: Don't worry your pretty little head about all those icky details. Daddy has everything under control. You just need to go party and let off some steam

What Mobei Says in his head: Oh Daddy! You let me have all the fun! It's so nice to know I can rely on Daddy! *Giggle*

What he actually says to Shang Qinghua: Understood. The function is at 7, double check the guest list and make sure our info is up to date.

Tbc Shang Qinghua would be at least mildly horrified if he knew but that would require Mobei Jun to be forth coming with his deep inner thoughts which will never ever happen