#more than I probably should do for such a minor character

[nu-fin]

One thing I think about a lot is Elias and his mum. Like, the only reason he changed his mind and decided to detonate the bomb is bc his mum wouldn’t come out and talk to him. She didn’t even want to *see* him (from Elias’ pov at least). Despite the fact that earlier in the series he was adamant that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her (although I have wondered whether that’s an idea that the Morley’s planted in his head, or maybe straight up told him to say), she’s still his mum and he still needs her. Then later in the series in the last few seconds before he ceases to exist when they’re hugging, the idea that that might be the only time in the series when he actually genuinely knows he is loved, and how the whole loop is him chasing after that feeling of being loved yet it takes the loop breaking for him to get it. Stuff like that.

[dreamsy990]

something about the erasure of platonic love in fandom bothers me. maybe its just that im aroace, maybe i just dont 'get' the differences between loving and being in love. but it bothers me.

[chiropteracupola]

drawing prompt: please give someone a nice warm cup of tea (whomever you think is most in need of one)

And Then Nothing Bad Happened Later On In History.

[threewaysdivided]

G.R.R. Martin once planned to have a time skip in between each chapter of the books, but discarded it because it would require large amounts of flashbacks and expositions to get the audience up to speed. Boy, it sure is great that YJ only had one season so we didn't have to worry about each sequential season having to allocate precious episode time to explain what happen in the gaps while also developing new characters and plot lines /s

Sadly I cannot speak to or for Mister George Raymond Richard Martin's storytelling as I managed to miss the boat on both ASOIAF as a book series and Game of Thrones as a TV phenomenon. However, it certainly seems like he made the right decision there. Smart man.

As for the Young Justice Animated series... I can only agree. While I would have loved to see a continuation of the mystery, and think there was a lot of potential in the original cast of heroes and interesting things they could have done with The Light, I'm glad that DC made the call to cancel the show and move on to new projects when it became clear that the tone and themes didn't fit with their brand-pivot to New 52 edginess, rather than trying to forcibly crush the series into an incompatible mold for use as a marketing vessel.

Plus, the more complaints I've heard from other franchises about what happens when you leave Greg Weisman creatively unsupervised, the more likely it is that we would have just been in for a bad-fanfic barrage of random new characters, arbitrary time-skips, jumbled perspective-hopping, attempted twitter-retcons and general throwing-ideas-at-a-wall that he seems to use in place of actually learning basic narrative techniques like developing a story arc, maintaining character consistency or creating proper causal links between concepts, all seasoned with a heaping helping of Joss-Whedon-inspired performative virtue-signalling, creepy rape-y garbage and fetishistic sexism. Bullet dodged, methinks. Our city now.

There are fine things that are more brilliant when they are unfinished than when finished too much. - François de La Rochefoucauld

Here's to a rare and pleasant display of creative honesty.

[Goof-posting because there's really not a lot about YJ's problems that I haven't already dissected at length. If you want a serious technical look at the scope and structure problems the timeskips cause then I've gone into it here. You can also try here for a deeper dive into how the timeskips are actually just a symptom of a bigger problem of narratively directionless story-contradictions being hastily papered over by a largely-untalented privilege-poisoned embodiment of George Lucas Syndrome and a largely-inexperienced adaptation producer who didn't have the original-storytelling chops to compensate for his co-runner's bullshit once the actually talented original production/ directorial team left the picture. C'est la capitalisme, I guess.]

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭.

🎀 Traveling from nation to nation and learning the art of creating the most delicious chocolate has been a passion of yours for ages. However, upon stepping foot into the Nation of Flame, you never could have prepared yourself for the incoming wave of sweetness and obsession which was going to hit you like never before.

A/N: This story is loosely inspired by Joanne Harris' book of the same title, Chocolat. It's a book that I am very fond of and I was inspired to write this once I saw that we were able to make chocolate in Natlan, probably the best thing in the game. I am a massive chocolate enjoyer, so... Also, the fic has some minor nsfw implications, just a bit of a heads up! Apologies if Kinich is not in character, oopsie.

yandere! kinich x fem! reader.

Proud warriors, the scorching hot sun and eternal flames were the first things that came to mind whenever you would think about Natlan. As a humble Mondstadter, it never occurred to you just how rich this nation was, how welcoming the people were going to be and not to mention how this place could help you develop your love for chocolate.

Stirring the pot in front of you was no easy task as the decadent scent of delightful goodness enveloped the entire humble little hut which you occupied, the entire floor littered with pots and pans filled to the brim with your creations and some personal trinkets which you had brought for yourself along for the journey.

One of Natlan's great tribes, the Scions of the Canopy, had graciously taken you under their wing and allowed you the privilege of experiencing the culture firsthand. You let out a wistful sigh as the chocolate bubbled happily before you, the dark liquid almost looking too good to be real.

You always took pride in your skills as a chocolatier, even if you hardly considered yourself the best one in the whole entire world. An endless sky of knowledge was out there waiting for you, the voices of the unknown beckoning you to come forward and seize them with your own two hands.

You were a true Mondstadter at heart. No matter where you were or how far you traversed, the wind was always there to guide you, to show you the right path. And right now, the flow of the wind said to stay in Natlan, to finally stop and smell the roses a little.

And each rose you touched had never been as sweet.

The rose, your rose, had a name and merely thinking of him sent your heart ablaze. Messy dark hair, gorgeous dew eyes and skin so perfectly rough and tender at the same time, it made you wonder how he managed to pull off something so contradictory.

That was Kinich's charm, you supposed. Cheeky little thing, he always looked out for you ever since he saw you. Despite his dry humor and straightforward attitude, there was a certain gentle quality to him which made him so irresistible, as if he was temptation personified. Never once did he leave you alone for the entirety of your trip if it could be helped, which came as a shock to his fellow tribe members.

Looking back on it, you were foolish to not see his intentions, even more so for not paying attention to the longing glimmer in his eye and how he would trail after you like a shadow.

He was shy, at first. Unsure on how he should express his feelings, Kinich merely resorted to doing things for you, because he was simply that kind of man. Actions speak louder than words and there was no word in the dictionary which could describe the way in which his chest would tighten in pain whenever he would make eye contact with you, as if large and thorny vines had sprouted from the ground up and taken root in his soul.

You are sweeter than any chocolate you could possibly make, he whispered into your ear one evening.

A shudder came over you, your cheeks hot at the memory of that night... The moon was high and full, overtaking the pitch black sky as Kinich had pinned you to the ground, his gaze boring deeply in your own, those large eyes focused on you and only you...

Chewing your bottom lip, you stirred the pot harshly as the memory replayed in your head over and over - his grip, which was tighter than any rope imaginable, the feeling of melted chocolate which was caked over your lips and fingers, the sensation of Kinich's tongue as he licked away the sweet goodness off your body...

By the seven, this was too much.

With a huff, you turned off the fire which was lit beneath the pot, your hands shaking with excitement as you felt your entire body growing hotter and hotter, making it harder to concentrate.

Damn that Kinich. Damn him for making you feel so wonderful, so wanted, so perfect. The thought of having to leave this place, it... It bordered on anguish. Sometimes, when you were sure no one was around, you would find a dark little corner and weep quietly to yourself. It was hard to manage the massive hiccups and keep the snot away from staining your clothes at first but you managed. Like always, you would find a way to get everything back in order and all would be well once you got everything out of your system.

You had fallen for Natlan. You had fallen even more so than Kinich. Even so, the wind was picking up once more, demanding that you make your next move.

There was so little time left to enjoy everything you had built here. Therefore, your plan was to make the most of everything you possibly could.

And Kinich was more than ready to assist with that.

He hid high up in a tree as he observed you, his face schooled into that of one of his classical nonchalance and stoicism. The chance of him being spotted by anyone up here was slim but even so, he liked to play it safe.

No one needed to know the pain he was in. No one needed to be aware of his more... dubious thoughts and actions. Kinich always fancied himself as a man of action rather than flowery words. And so, he acted.

Quietly, stealthily... Perhaps even a little lethally at times.

Violence was hardly ever the answer but if anyone got in his way and refused to back down, it was his only solution then.

Kinich had a solid reputation in his tribe - he was trustworthy, he was strong. This granted him access to many things, many useful and convenient things. All he had to do was say the word and most people would keep their mouths shut if they saw him somewhere he should not be. And if his poorly veiled threats were not enough, he was more than ready to take up his weapon and fight.

It really was that easy for him.

Sneaking into your newly built home was its own beast though.

This is wrong, he would chant inside his mind over and over again. The intensity of his actions and his nonchalant persona were always at a clash with one another, constantly fighting a never ending war. He should trust you, he knows you are capable, he has no right to be doing any of this even yet... And yet, he does it anyway.

Because he knows that if he doesn't do something, he will never see you again. Kinich knows that he will lose you to the wind if he lets you slip through his fingers, he will never get to experience what it means to be touched, to be loved.

He wants to adore you in the same way people adore your delectable creations. The various statues made from chocolates, the little cacao bites, the endless sea of pralines which would be devoured so fast by the masses that he could not keep up...

Whenever he had the luxury, he liked to imagine you as one of those pralines. Perfect and oh so easy to devour, you were nothing short of excellent in his eyes. Kinich was no blind fool, he was well aware that you had your flaws as well but he cared very little about that.

He wanted the entire package. He wanted you, wrapped up in a little bow and delivered on his doorstep like the world's most precious package, a package which he could unwrap and enjoy time and time over.

Even in his hazy state of mind, he could still recall how you tasted. Licking his lips, Kinich made sure to double check that he had taken a few things from your hut which could prevent you from finishing your latest project. Yes, that was petty of him.

But he could not be bothered to care.

The wind was cruel. Whenever a gust of it would blow at him, Kinich would scowl as he knew that it meant that you would take it as a sign to leave. His hair would get tousled as he would wrap his arms around his body, the constant yapping of Ajaw did him no good either.

The clock was ticking. There was only so much he could do to keep you here. A plan needed to be formed, fast.

For now, he was going to enjoy you in every way he could. He was going to be greedy and devour you wholly whenever the opportunity arose. As Kinich balanced himself up on the massive tree branch, yet another fresh gust of wind made its way towards him. He saw the way you popped your shoulders, that all too familiar smile on your face.

You loved the wind and the wind loved you. You loved to make chocolate and were quite excellent at it too.

Despite all that, Kinich loved you more. He adored you more than the sun adored the world, he wanted you more than unlike anything else before. He cursed the Anemo Archon underneath his breath, his poor lip bloody and bruised from the amount of times he had bitten it in order to keep himself quiet.

Kinch was a man of countless deeds. And he would find a way to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. Be it Celestia or the Abyss, there was no force in this world which could destroy the endless and raging fire he felt for you.

[yorsgirl]

Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

Oh my, I love love love this idea!!

I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late

Playing God

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.

Tropes: Dark Romance, horror, angst

Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.

General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 9.7k

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again.

In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - the eyes tinted with crimson.

.

"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."

You had seen it all.

You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.

"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."

You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing as you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too.

You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."

Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.

"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare, considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him. You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, you stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.

Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.

A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your husband's lineage.

Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.

Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.

You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.

Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down. No, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.

Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To be born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood and combining with his – a living proof of your plight. Disgusting.

Never. You'd never let that happen.

You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.

You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.

You were affirmed. An heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.

Speak of the devil, he appears.

An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.

"Sit." He commanded.

You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.

"I heard from the midwife."

You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.

With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"

"Not another word."

You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?

He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.

They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.

"The one at fault bore consequences."

That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"You aren't at fault, wife."

Oh, but you were.

Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."

The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."

"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"

He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.

But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."

His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).

After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"

Silence.

You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.

You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.

"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"

"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"

If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.

You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.

"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."

Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.

Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."

It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"

"I will accompany you."

.

"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."

Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.

"Bring him."

As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.

The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.

What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?

—》《—

"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."

"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."

"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"

"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."

"Or so, she's simply incapable."

—》《—

Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.

Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.

At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.

He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.

Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.

You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.

Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.

Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.

It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.

You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found–

Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.

The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.

"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.

"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."

The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.

"Rise," He declared.

The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"

—》《—

"May I make a request, my lord?"

Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.

"Speak."

He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing. 

"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"

—》《—

"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"

"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant he could see the sun for another day then he'll just give whatever he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"

"In pregnancy."

The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"

Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.

"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.

"It-Its a... your highness, I d-don't think you-"

"Insolent bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."

The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to  misc-"

"Miscarriage?"

"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."

A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.

The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"

The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.

It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.

The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.

Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.

Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.

"Not edible, dispose of it."

.

You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.

He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.

No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.

Silence was never uneventful.

Insinuating the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."

Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books Sukuna had bought you).

On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.

"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"

The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present–shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.

"Pardon, my lord?"

Sukuna snorted, walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words herbs."

Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. Yet he knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?

Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...

The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.

Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."

He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.

"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."

Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.

"Come, let me entertain you."

.

You were walking to the gallows.

Not literally, but you were sure your end was near.

The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.

Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home – never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.

Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.

He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.

You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.

What happened to him?

"My lord," You called. "What are you-"

"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.

Dark.

It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.

"One bite."

Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.

Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.

You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.

Don't speak a word.

Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."

He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.

He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.

Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific—that'd be your excuse.

He won't die. Not from your hands.

You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.

Miscalculation.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, a gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.

You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.

Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.

You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.

The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.

The boy was dead.

.

"Enjoyed the show, wife?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.

"Wh-what did you-"

No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.

"What... did you do?"

Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.

And he was watching you.

It reminded you of the time, you first saw him -  covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?

"What did you do?" You repeated again.

Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."

You needed to run.

The kanzashi– which was till then clasped in your hand firmly– fell down. A clank, you heard.

One step.

One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.

"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.

Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he yanked with any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.

"Dare to shut your eyes."

Compliance had become second nature.

The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.

The sight caused you to gag.

Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.

"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.

You shook your head violently, nails dug into his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.

"You did that."

No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.

"You killed him."

No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.

"Take a good look. See what you've done."

You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.

"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."

Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."

No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.

It was... him.

"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."

"Really? How so?"

Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.

"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."

"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."

Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.

"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"

"Sure of it?"

You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."

His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.

"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"

Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.

"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."

Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.

"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"

"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."

"There was no venom on my pin."

"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.

"His fear turned into poison."

You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"

"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."

His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.

He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"

"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"

"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."

"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.

Disgust arose in you yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never. 

He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."

"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"

Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.

Fear, poison, belief, killing...

He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.

Why won't he much rather just end your life?

Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.

"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."

"And?"

His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.

You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. The roll of his eyes while speaking floated before your eyes even though you couldn't see him; the expression must had turned to a smirk later. "However, the taste of taking a life– isn't it delicious, wife?"

Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooded boards – bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You didn't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.

A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"

"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.

"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."

Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.

But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.

"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."

His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."

"I am nothing-"

"You are. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line. 

Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.

"You kill children in your womb, I kill them after they're born. How is it so different?"

"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "You kill for your own sake, I do not."

"Then who do you kill for?"

"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.

"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.

"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."

From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.

You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.

.

"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."

He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.

"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."

He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete. 

But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."

What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?

Oh, he knew.

Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.

Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.

He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:

"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"

Worth everything.

Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).

Oh, how good he has you memorized.

Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.

"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."

Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.

Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.

You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)

Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.

"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"

Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."

Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.

So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.

"Let me just show it to you then, wife."

It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.

.

You were home.

One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.

Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.

"Mother…"

She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.

"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."

Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"

The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.

"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."

"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.

You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"

You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"

Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.

"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"

"No more."

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"

"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.

"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.

"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.

"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"

"Don't you dare call me that."

The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.

"You are no daughter of mine."

You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.

"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.

The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.

"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."

.

This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?

You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.

Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.

Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.

You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.

You were truly pathetic.

But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.

"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."

"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."

Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"

"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."

You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.

You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"

"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."

"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"

"Save it for someone who would care, whore."

The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.

"You are just as twisted as him."

"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."

"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."

The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.

I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?

Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.

For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.

The next moment, everything made sense.

These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.

Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.

Did they truly try to lay down your life?

Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)

Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.

He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.

For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.

However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.

Provoking him was never the right move.

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.

No one touches what's mine.

The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.

Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.

Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.

Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?

Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.

Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?

Traitors don't get to talk.

Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.

With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.

"Saw it for yourself wife?"

Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.

Their predicament was your solace.

Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?

You were always like me, wife.

You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.

"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.

"A pact?"

"A pact."

A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."

The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:

"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."

.

A year later

Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.

"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."

A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.

However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (making out - I know, finally) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 23.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even. 

Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether. 

But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames. 

“I—” he mumbles. 

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try. 

But the thought doesn’t last long.

You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight. 

Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you. 

But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him. 

You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.

Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.

The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table. 

This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well. 

But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.

His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it. 

You sigh to yourself. He’ll live. 

You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible. 

“___.”

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”

“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in. 

Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him. 

But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit. 

Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay. 

You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that. 

Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go. 

You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.

You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.

“___.”

“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.

“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”

“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”

He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.

You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.

Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.

“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly. 

He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.

“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading. 

You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic. 

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”

You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you. 

Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”

“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.

“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”

“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”

Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him. 

Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around. 

He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you. 

He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.

Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.

But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.

“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”

“That’s noted, sir.”

Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.

He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.

“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.

“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”

“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”

“What?”

“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”

Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.

Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough. 

He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.

Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.

As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely. 

The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.

At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that. 

Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through. 

Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much. 

You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces. 

“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.

“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”

“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.

“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”

You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.

“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”

“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.” 

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”

Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.

“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”

You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.

“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”

“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”

Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you. 

As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.

You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back. 

But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”

“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”

“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.

You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”

The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart. 

You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last. 

There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.

All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful. 

“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”

“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”

“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”

“And?” He asks in anticipation.

“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”

“There really is,” Namjoon nods.

His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize. 

Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice. 

“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”

“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”

“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”

“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”

“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”

“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”

It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks. 

The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for. 

You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to. 

Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.

“I’m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”

It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time. 

You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day. 

After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you. 

What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is? 

You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.

Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.

Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him. 

That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish. 

During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him. 

You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there. 

But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more. 

Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind. 

But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you. 

Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse. 

“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”

“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks. 

“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”

“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror. 

You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building. 

The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already. 

“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”

“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.

“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.

But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear. 

He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours. 

His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all. 

He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything. 

It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.

He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place. 

You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did. 

But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.

Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too. 

And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all. 

But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it. 

You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end. 

The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table. 

There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.

“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”

“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”

You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you say softly.  

“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”

“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”

“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”

Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.

“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”

You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks. 

“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”

“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”

“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”

“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration. 

But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.

“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”

“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”

“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”

“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”

You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.

“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”

Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed. 

Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe. 

He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place. 

Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.

It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing. 

But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away? 

The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.

The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.

“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.

He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.

“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”

It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again. 

Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.

And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.

He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same. 

It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.

The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.

But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.

“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away. 

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”

“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.

It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.

“I was rushing,” he explains. 

You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work. 

It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible. 

You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after. 

Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.

Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.

“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?” 

His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.

You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.

Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out. 

“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”

Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.

“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.

“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”

As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”

“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.

But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.

Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour. 

He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.

“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.

“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”

His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected. 

“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.

“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him. 

But still, you don’t.

“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.

“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.

So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad. 

“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.

You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod. 

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.

“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”

“How do you know that?” He interjects.

“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”

“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you. 

“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”

“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”

You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing. 

“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout. 

“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”

“Neither am I.”

Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race. 

He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more. 

“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.

“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty. 

“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”

“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”

You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.

“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.

Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you. 

“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly. 

The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides. 

“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.

He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”

You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours. 

He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.

You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table. 

He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk. 

Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.

Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned. 

This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything. 

But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.

“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”

You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now. 

His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.

“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.” 

“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.

“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”

The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you. 

He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.

“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”

“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do. 

He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to. 

“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”

Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought. 

You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference. 

“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.” 

His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do. 

“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”

This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him. 

He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.

“___, please. I just want to be with you.”

It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.

Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”

With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again. 

Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle. 

He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.

You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier. 

You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.

It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened. 

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you. 

And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away. 

Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him. 

Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around. 

You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye. 

You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted. 

You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life. 

Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you. 

You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy. 

He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again. 

It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you. 

You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.

He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.

They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you. 

You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did. 

You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered? 

Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes. 

He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay. 

He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor. 

This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.

He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go. 

Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around. 

He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too. 

His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away. 

The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it. 

At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.

Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered. 

“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.

It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today. 

Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.

They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.

With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.

“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake. 

“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?” 

“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea. 

“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”

“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”

Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.

“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”

“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”

“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”

“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean. 

He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.

“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”

You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from. 

You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.

Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder. 

You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to. 

So you give Mr. Ri permission. 

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”

Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now. 

“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”

“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.

“I did. She also told me what happened.”

“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”

Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.

“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”

“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”

“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”

“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”

“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”

The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.

But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.

“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”

It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?

“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.  

“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”

Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life. 

The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time. 

Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before. 

“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”

“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”

“She— what?” 

Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years. 

“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”

“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.” 

“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”

The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other. 

“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”

She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there. 

“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”

As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks. 

“Did… did he hurt them?”

“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree. 

“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times. 

“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”

The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran.  The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.” 

Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”

Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own. 

But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.

“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe. 

“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”

“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.

“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying. 

“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.

“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”

Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you. 

“Did she know? And did she love you back?”

“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders. 

“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”

“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.

“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”

It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.

“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.

“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”

“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”

“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”

“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father. 

“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”

At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”

“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable. 

And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?

It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?

The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way. 

He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too. 

“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”

“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”

“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”

“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride. 

The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him. 

“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.

“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”

“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”

“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”

Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.

They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.

His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years. 

The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.

It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone. 

“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks. 

“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”

“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”

“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”

The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.

“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”

“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”

“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.

“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.

“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well. 

“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”

“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”

“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”

There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on. 

“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”

Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind. 

Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.

There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.

Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.

He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.

He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life. 

You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too. 

You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now. 

But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well. 

Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you. 

It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well. 

You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most. 

Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.

“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”

You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come. 

But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.

“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”

“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”

You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes. 

“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.

“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.

“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?” 

There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way. 

He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.

You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for  beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him. 

He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.

You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away. 

You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place. 

Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all. 

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[simpjaes]

paid in & paid off

Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

 ៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader | park jongseong x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ minors dni

 ៸៸៸ wordcount: 30k

 ៸៸៸ genre: college break au, summer setting , smut, stepcest 

 ៸៸៸ content tags: angst, smut, fluff, more dominant jay, inexperienced jake, infidelity(?), jealous and possessive behavior, risky sex, jay is mean, jake is a total loser posing as a dude who knows how to pick up girls. reader has hair that can be grabbed and pulled during smut scenes.

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: dub-con, step-cest, jay is a narcissist, manipulation, possessive behavior, use of degrading names such as: dumb, stupid, whore, and slut. i am not responsible for your inability to consume the right content for you. 

 ៸៸៸ side characters: sunghoon as your ex boyfriend, heeseung as your ex boyfriend’s best friend 

 ៸៸៸ a/n: thank u for 1k followers <3 lets just call this one a late new years gift and a thank u for indulging me! btw, this isn’t edited!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags: jake is a boob guy, big dick jake, thick dick jay, degradation, finger fucking, doggy style, mating press, unprotected sex, hair pulling, pussy eating, crying, being pinned down, but also!!!, soft and passionate fucking, riding, marking out, blowjob/deepthroating

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay knew his dad was quick to love, but quick to marry wasn’t really something he was expecting. It took the span of a single semester for him to not only learn that his father had a new girlfriend, but that he was eloping with her, meaning, Jay would be coming home for the summer to an entirely different home life.

He knew nothing of this woman and barely even knew what her name was but it’s not that big of a deal to him, considering he’s out of the house anyway save for holidays and summer breaks. It’s not like he’s going to have to deal with it too often. Afterall, he’s an adult, and so is his father. If anything, the man deserves to feel some love after sending Jay away to one of the best colleges around. Why does it matter that the marriage happened so quickly? 

It doesn’t. 

It’s much the same for you, if not the exact same thought process on the way your mother calls you and dotes on her new husband as if she’s one of your best friends calling you after a hook-up. You’re even a bit excited to head home once finals are over to see your much-missed mother and her new husband. 

Your mother is more detailed in her descriptions of the new life though. Her husband is tall, he’s handsome, he has money, he has a son with the highest GPA on his campus. You weren’t too inclined to process the information at the time though, considering she had called you dead in the middle of crunch time for finals. 

All you know is, your mother is happy and you’re happy for her. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Why the fuck are you here?” Jay asks upon returning home and walking through the front door.

The first thing he noted was that there is a girl sitting on his father’s couch, and she’s far too young to be his new wife. Upon her turning to face him, presumably to see who is walking into the house, he notes that it’s you. 

“No fucking way.” You start, standing up and brushing off your legs of imaginary dust. “You’re the son my mom mentioned?”

Jay looks at you with a bit of shock unable to be hidden within his expression.

“I have a fucking sister? And it’s you, of all people?” Jay huffs in an annoyed way, ultimately because, what kind of shitty luck in life is he set up for? 

The only reason this is his reaction is because, well, the two of you have history. Kind of. To him, at least, probably not to you. 

He remembers the first time he ever saw you, bright eyed and bushy tailed during his freshman year on campus. He thought you were pretty, but it’s not like that thought would go anywhere further. It’s the fact that he found everyone beautiful on campus, solely because he knew he must have been surrounded by people as smart as he is, or perhaps as well off financially as his father is. 

The day he decided that you’re really pretty was during a gen ed class that year. A class that he really could have done with his eyes closed if he’s being honest, but still, his eyes stayed open due to being paired with you for a simple single-class project. Where the two of you were to separate from the other pairs and come up with some sort of argument on a whim regarding a given topic. 

You were great at arguing, even better than him perhaps. 

And from that moment forward, he noticed you more and more through the semesters as you grew as students, despite only having one other class together during that time. 

He noted during that single other class period he shared with you some year and a half into his educational journey that you were one of the only students who didn’t boast about their GPA, which led him to believe you’re probably a little bit dumber than the other students. 

He also noted that you’d hang around the hockey team a lot as time went on, specifically Sunghoon and his friend Heeseung. Those two were rowdy, loud, and always threw the best parties. Or so he’s heard, it’s not like Jay ever showed up to them or anything. His GPA was far too important to not prioritize. 

Eventually, he’d end up noting that you would always be all over Sunghoon. A clear indication that he should keep his eyes to himself, especially with the way Sunghoon would occasionally make eye contact with him after eying his presumed girlfriend for too long. 

Dating Sunghoon though? Yeah, you’re probably a little more than a little bit dumb.

Still, it was just a little college crush that would never turn into anything further. He didn’t need more than the ability to glance at you from time to time and remember how well you argued in that first semester of college. After all, there are tons of other pretty girls on campus too, some that are also probably far more intelligent and not wasting their time on the meat-heads that barely keep their GPA up enough to attend the school. 

That’s why he’s shocked to walk into his father’s house, happy to be home, to find none other than you sitting on that couch. 

And now you’re standing up, facing him, and looking at him for probably the first time in several semesters. He’s actually a little shocked that you remember him at all. 

“Did–” You pause, looking at him confused. “Did your dad not tell you?”

Jay slowly shakes his head, dropping his bag and slipping off his shoes. 

“Probably didn’t think it was too important.” He finally says, shrugging and stretching his arms out above his head after the long drive. 

“It’s pretty important, actually.” You laugh awkwardly, having just gotten to your new home yourself, waiting for your mother to come out of her shower. “This is fucking awkward.”

Jay nods and then walks past you. 

“Hey wait, where are you going?” You ask, confused by the atmosphere in the room. 

“To my room?” He says back in a sarcastic tone, internally conflicted over the fact that his father forced him into crush-hood with someone he is now related to by marriage. 

Still, that’s something he will keep to himself. After all, it was just a small crush that never went away due to not having a reason to stop thinking you’re pretty.

He has a reason now, and he’s still happy to be home despite the awkwardness that’s now living beside him. If anything, he can fill his free time with his old friends rather than becoming friends with you. And he does, entering his room, locking it, and immediately sending a text to his long-time friend that he hasn’t seen since last summer. 

Speaking of said long-time friend. Jake grew up down the street from Jay and as expected, chose to stay home with his family rather than travel for college. He loved them too much to leave them, plus the college here was good. Not as good as the one Jay goes to, but still a great accomplishment nonetheless. 

Jake has a perfect GPA, a perfect family, perfect hair, and a very imperfect way of living up to his own accomplishments. 

For instance, not going with Jay to university despite having a high chance of making it in. He didn’t even try, didn’t even fucking consider it. Jake is the type who is both entirely lost in the world and one hundred percent okay with it. He doesn’t know who he is, who he wants to be, or what to do about it outside of following the general rules of life. 

Be born, learn to talk, learn to walk, go to school, go to college, work, die. 

Still, he is Jay’s best friend, which is why he is the first person he texts upon returning home. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The first dinner with your new family felt strange at best. You have a brother figure now, a father figure, and your mother is smiling for reasons that aren’t you or her new favorite show on tv. It’s both nice and insanely weird to experience sitting at a dinner table with more than just yourself. 

Things were always casual with your mother. Dinner is whenever, eat wherever. But as you look at her, you see her trying to fill a role for the handsome man she’s now married to. You don’t dislike the guy but as her daughter, who she raised almost entirely on her own, you’re cautious about him. 

And looking at Jay? It’s a little bit strange for you. He was so quiet on campus, which is a stark contrast to his loud and vibrant father. The two of them are still alike in some way when it comes to their ice cold stare that can’t be as icy as it appears. 

You remember working with Jay maybe once or twice throughout your semesters, and he was very well spoken. To the point that it almost felt as if you were working directly with a professor rather than a college student. He was clean back then, and somewhat brooding in his own way. It still rings true today if you remind yourself of his attitude upon meeting you in the living room. 

“Jongseong,” His father clears his throat with his son’s name, a smile forming as he places his cutlery to the side. “How did your finals go?”

Jay perks up at the ability to talk about himself and his accomplishments as he looks to your mother. He smiles at her, and you can’t help but think he’s putting on some sort of act. He never smiled too often when you did see him. 

You snort. 

“Jongseong?” You say, laughing at the way his father is so formal. “I thought your name was Jay?” 

Jay was mid-sentence when you so rudely interrupted him and his shiny GPA, as he shot his head to you. 

“Okay,” He says shortly. “What’s your GPA then?”

His father and your mother share a quick glance at each other, seemingly worried that the two of you appear to already be acting like siblings that do not get along. 

“Pfft,” You snort, rolling your eyes. “My GPA is just fine, Jongseong.” 

You’re just kidding around, but you can’t help but press when you note his, almost immediate, annoyance. Which to you is a bit too uptight if you’re being honest.

“So what is it then?” He glares, huffing out through his nose. “Because mine is a weighted 4.7.” 

It’s the fact that you already hate that he’s challenging you. You had no idea that his GPA was so high already, revealing that he must take extra honors classes and advanced courses by this point. Probably making straight A’s in most of them, if not all of them. 

You swallow around your spoon, your cheeky smirk falling almost instantly. 

“Point taken.” You roll your eyes. 

“What is your GPA?” He asks again with a smug smile. 

“I told you, my GPA is fine.” You argue. 

Jay thinks you must have fallen off of your ability to argue, because you’re really not putting up a fight like you did during that first semester. 

“Doesn’t seem fine.” He laughs, grabbing his cup and glaring at you from over it. “Probably just hiding that you’re failing,  just like that boyfriend of yours.”

You pause, actually mad now. 

“Excuse me?” You stare at him, dropping your spoon and clenching your fist. 

“Jongseong!” His father raises his voice at the family mishap, taking your mother’s hand on top of the table. 

Both you and Jay shoot your heads to him.

“That is your sister, don’t be rude.” His father says in a booming voice, reminding Jay that he can’t be petty like this to you. 

Despite wanting to. Mad that he still thinks you’re pretty even with the new discovery, even more mad that he enjoyed pushing your buttons just now. 

What’s worse is the way he glances at you and sees you snicker at his scolding before flinching as if your mother kicked you from under the table. 

He grimaces at the situation, at you, and then smiles at his father. 

“Sorry,” He says, scratching his forehead before grabbing his cup again. “Would have been nice to know I was coming home to a sister though.” 

His dad’s eyes widened before narrowing at his son, annoyed that his own flesh and blood is acting like such a child over this matter. 

“Jongseong–” He warns, and then your mother is speaking up.

“Wait, you didn’t even tell him that I have a daughter?”

The apologetic look that takes over your new step-father’s face is interesting because, honestly, it is a weighted question. You’d like to know why he didn’t tell Jay too, then again, maybe it wasn’t intentional. 

With that, you watch as Jay stands up and leaves the kitchen, leaving his plate there presumably for someone else to clean and can’t help but do the same.

You can see that familiar look of hurt on your mother’s face and feel it best that you sink away into your own room, which still needs to be set up and rearranged anyway. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week and a half since you’ve been to your new home, a week and a half of awkward family dinners, a week and a half of being shunned by your new step brother, and a week and a half of your boyfriend not texting you back.

Safe to say, this summer is starting off on the wrong foot for you and you’re already wanting it to be over so that you can at least focus on schoolwork, rather than the fact that it feels like everyone on this earth must hate you. 

You sit in your room once again after an awkward dinner, hearing your mother and Jay’s father talk quietly in the living room about being in love or something, you’re not sure, you don’t really care. 

At this point, being here rather than your mother’s old house just makes it worse. None of your friends are close enough to just up and visit you, Sunghoon certainly isn’t going to come un-bore you, and it appears that the only form of entertainment you can focus on is your own self-doubt at this moment. 

Why not go hang out with Jay? At least pushing his buttons would be more fun than wallowing in boredom and self-pity. Surely it would be more fun, surely he’d probably have some fun too, since he seems so fond of pissing you off already.

Up you go, onto your socked feet as you head for the door and just across the hallway to his cracked door. 

You don’t even knock before stepping inside as if it’s your own room.

You note that he jumps, startled at your presence. That split second of seeing him before, from behind, it seemed like he was quite focused on his pc, but his little surprised jump leads you to believe he was a bit too focused on it. 

“Sup bro,” You smile, flopping down on his bed in a grand entrance. “Watching porn?” 

Jay rolls his eyes, closing out his tabs because, well, he was gonna but hadn’t yet opened the website or closed his door. 

“Why are you in my room?” He asks, not turning to face you yet.

“I’m bored.” You admit, eyes looking at how messy his bedroom is. Posters on the wall, clothes thrown all around, abandoned dumbbells lying in the corner.

 If anything, you’re a little shocked that Jay is so messy. He appeared so clean cut and well-put together back before you were forced into close proximity with him, his room is a huge mismatch in your head right now. Like, wow, he has personality? His clothes aren’t all boring tones of white, beige, and gray? He likes music? Arguably pretty decent music if the posters are anything to go by.

“Your room is disgusting.”

“Then leave.”

You pause, sitting yourself up and staring at the back of his head.

“Why are you so fucking rude?” You ask, glaring a hole through the mess of hair on his head. 

“Because you’re incapable of having an intelligent discussion and still try to talk to me.” 

God, he’s so robotic when he speaks to you, it’s so disheartening. So emotionless, so boring.

“Jongseong.” You say, mostly to try and elicit some type of emotion out of him. 

He swivels his chair around to look at you, just as annoyed as you expected him to be.

“Stop calling me that.” He warns, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “Why are you bothering me right now?”

You shrug, eyes looking up and around his cluttered room again before sighing. 

“I’m bored,” You try to say nonchalantly. “And lonely now that my mom is too busy with your dad.”

Jay tilts his head at you in curiosity, almost seeming interested in your issues before smirking. 

“Yeah, well,” He chuckles, turning back to his computer. “What makes you think I’m not busy?”

You stand to your feet, huffing in defeat. 

“Listen,” You say, nearly tripping on a neglected shirt on the ground and grabbing his chair to force him to turn around. You see that it’s annoying him, which is great. “We should at least try to get along.”

Jay stays silent, looking past you and to his skewed bedroom door before sighing. 

“So, I guess you’re not as stupid as you seem then?” He offers, looking up at you from his chair with a stupid smirk on his face. Seemingly proud of how much he intends to talk his shit at you. “Smartest thing i’ve ever heard you say.”

God, he’s so fucking annoying. Why does he act like that? So pompous with such an ego. Which is really pathetic when you think about it and all of the times you never once noticed him on campus. Sure, there were a few times that you did, but what gives him the right to act so high and mighty? No one even knows who he is save for the professors who deal with his constant ass kissing.

“It’s embarrassing for you to think that your high GPA is all that's worthy of a person. You’re so stuck up, you know that, Jongseong?” You argue immediately, backing away and sitting right back on his bed. “It’s no wonder you’re such an asshole, you should go get your dick sucked or something because this is ridiculous.”

Jay pauses. 

“I’ve had my dick sucked plenty.” He laughs, because he’s not lying. “Still, sex doesn’t make me that dumb.”

The way he looks down on you is demeaning and offensive, if you’re being honest. And somehow, you’re shocked by those words, like entirely floored that he’d even say such a thing to you. You told him to get his dick sucked to loosen up that up-tight shitty personality, not because you wanted to fucking know that he’s not the virgin he parades around looking like. 

Still, you’re floored that he’s focusing on that single aspect of your comment. Simmering on it, insulting you for having sex. Calling you cock-stupid basically. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You think half the school doesn’t see you practically ride Sunghoon in the hallways?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe you’d have a brain in that little head of yours if you weren’t too busy letting him fuck it out of you.”

You lean back in disgust at him, reminding yourself that not even Sunghoon wants to talk to you right now. Sad that he’s almost right about it. Sunghoon does fuck you stupid, and you probably are fairly obvious about it considering there have been more times than you can count that he’s been just as hot and bothered mid-class day with you.

That doesn’t matter now though, considering he won’t fucking text you back. 

“Well, maybe you’d feel better knowing that I’m about to break up with him.” You huff. “Again. So maybe then, you’ll stop basing my entire existence on the fact that I get fucked like any normal person.”

Jay stops for a moment, seemingly pleased with what you just said. 

“Hmm,” He hums out, looking at you with a less annoyed gaze. “Maybe he hasn’t rendered you completely incompetent then.”

And with that, you’re done. You stand to your feet with a scoff and immediately head for his door. Only to bring Jay’s attention further to you. He presses your buttons on purpose, of course, but it’s fun for him. It’s not like you weren’t doing the same thing. He really thought you’d at least fight him a little more in this argument, and he finds himself confused as to why you’re actually offended. 

Soft, gullible, and stupid?

“Wait, hold on.” Jay says, noting the way you stop. “What did he do?” 

Of course he’s nosy, of course he wants the details, you think. And of course you’re going to stay and give them to him considering your mother is too wrapped up with someone else to hear about your relationship problems anyway. 

“I don’t know.” You give in immediately, prancing back on his bed as if you’re in a girl’s room and hugging one of his pillows. Which, mind you, somehow smells good despite the room looking like it should smell like dried sweat and cum. You’re pleased with the aroma as you breathe in to continue.  “He hasn’t texted me back since the last day of class, and I already know what that means.”

Jay leans forward in interest, for the first time listening to you rather than complaining about you. If anything, he’s invested in the break up solely because his past-self did find himself a little jealous that you wasted your time on such a man. 

“What does it mean, then?” He asks. 

“He’s probably with that girl he was with last summer.” You admit, voice cracking only a little bit. “He promised he wouldn’t but this would be the third time if it’s true.”

Jay was going to say something, but you cut him off.

“I broke up with him last summer too, and just a few days before the semester started he called me and begged for me to take him back. Something about how it won’t happen again this time, that he promises he will block her for good, and that he’s sorry.” 

Man, you are dumb. Which is a shame, because even for someone like you he doesn’t think that’s very fair. He knew Sunghoon was an asshole by his appearance alone, but like, cheating? On someone that’s as hot as you? With a body like yours? Really? 

“Huh.” He says, pinching the sides of his chin as he thinks. 

“Last time, he didn’t even respond when I broke up with him. I was finally feeling better when he decided to come back.”

“Then, just don’t let him this time?” 

You sit for a moment, thinking about if you’d have the ability to actually stay away from Sunghoon. He’s hot, and good fucking lord is he good at pleasuring you. Part of you was okay with the kind of, like, fling thing you had going on with him. The first two times he ignored you for someone else hurt, but you’re not hurting as much now.

You’re just annoyed now, because if Sunghoon would just be honest, maybe the two of you could work out something. How come he is rendered single during the summer but you’re not? After all, if you so much as mention another guy to him he gets mad. Hell, he even argued with Heeseung in front of you simply for hugging you around the waist rather than over the shoulders. 

“You know,” You start, trying to come up with some sort of solution. “I always think I won’t, but he always says the right things to make me believe him, even just in the moment.” You pause to take a breath in. “Things are so good during the semester, then he’s just gone when we are away.”

Jay thinks hard about this, and even harder about the crush he had on you previously, knowing that it’s still there despite trying to pretend it isn't. Knowing that he’s glad you and Sunghoon are in this back and forth. He’s happy you’re going to leave him, and not entirely because he’s cheating on you.

It’s partially because he doesn’t want to have to look at you with him. As wrong as that is. It didn’t hurt too bad before he knew you. After all, you were just a pretty girl to look at. But now? Seeing you around the house? Knowing your daily routine? Forced to be close to you and loving it despite pretending he hates it? 

It’s sad, really, that Jay immediately became more interested in you the moment he knew it was not only against the rules, but morally wrong. Still, ss dumb as you are, he knows he’d treat you right. 

And you know, if he could, he would. He would try and swoop in considering he’s around you during your breaks and has the full ability to be there on campus as well, unlike Sunghoon. Never would either of you have to be apart from each other. 

There are several issues with this though. Obviously. And he has to keep reminding himself each time he thinks about it. He doesn’t fucking see you as his step-sister. You’re still just that pretty girl with the pretty lips, who wastes her body on men who don’t want her. You’re not his type at all, and yet? You’re entirely the girl of his dreams.

Logically, he clearly isn’t your type either, if Sunghoon is anything to go by. 

By marriage, he is now your brother. By marriage, he is now barred from openly glancing at you and your body. By fucking marriage, Jay is forced into a guilty mindset of wanting to disobey every moral direction in his head involving you.

The good news? By marriage, he is now obligated to protect you as your brother. So, is it really a taboo that he’s happy to see you think about leaving Sunghoon? Of course it isn’t.

And he’s gonna keep telling himself that. 

“Then maybe, since you’re away from him and he’s out doing his thing, you should–” He internally panics for a second, knowing he’s talking too quickly to stop himself. “Maybe you should go out and have some fun too.”

He immediately regrets it upon saying it. Why the fuck would he insinuate you should go out and fuck more dudes who would probably treat you just like Sunghoon does? He has to think fast, and he has to think now.

You watch him, amazed by the fact that he isn’t arguing with you. He’s actually helping you, and offering some pretty solid advice. 

“Like, I should just cheat on him?” You stare. 

“Well, no. You’re breaking up with him, aren’t you?”  He continues, tuning out to what you’re saying and tuning in to his head in order to figure out how to bar you from actually heeding the advice. 

You take a moment before nodding, it’s not like this would be anything new to Sunghoon anyway. 

“I’m sure you’ll meet someone here that’ll be better.” He finally adds to his advice, entirely half-assing it because you’d better not. Unless that person is him.  “Perhaps you wouldn’t want Sunghoon back by the time fall semester starts.”

And with that confirmation, you smile at him. 

“Aw,” You say snidely. “Look at us, getting along and shit.”

He stares forward, narrows his eyes just like before, and then turns back to his PC. 

“Now get out.” 

And for the first time, you don’t argue. Feeling a little better about joining his family now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“A hundred dollars a month.”  Jay emphasizes in a hushed tone to Jake. “Just hear me out, she’s hot.”

“Jay, that’s your sister.”

“Okay? Are you going to do it or not?” 

“Make it two hundred.” Jake counters, leaning close and staring his best friend in the face. “I gotta say, it’s a little weird that you’re paying me to do this. I’m only just finding out you have a sister, dude.”

Jay keeps his face calm, trying to appear like this is simply to help out his lonely step sister. In reality, he’s doing this solely so he knows what is happening with your relationship status, and he is absolutely praying for Sunghoon’s downfall. 

Plus, if he pays someone to date you, it makes up for the fact that he can’t give it a shot himself. Jake can easily get your focus off of Sunghoon for even just a little while, he’s sure of it and considering he’s his best friend, he knows Jake wont cross any boundaries and keep this to strictly business. After all, Jake can just break up with you by the time you’re over Sunghoon, and who will be there to comfort you?

Exactly. Jay will be there. 

Essentially, your step-brother will have full control over your love life for a mere two hundred dollars a month. 

All so you don’t go out and actually meet someone else. All so he doesn’t have the jealousy in the back of his brain nagging at him. All so he can, kind of, in his head, keep you to himself. 

“Well, to be fair –” Jay offers to Jake, noting how long his hair has gotten. “I’m just finding out I have a step sister too. But listen, she’s got this asshole going back and forth with her and I can’t let him keep doing it.”

“So, what you’re saying is that, you’re paying me to get your sister’s mind off of him?” Jake raises a brow, stunned by the fact that he hasn’t seen Jay all year and this is the first thing they talk about upon meeting up again. “Why me?”

Jay smiles.

“You’re my best friend, anyone else would cross a boundary. Just date her ‘til she moves on or something, I don’t know. I don’t want to watch her be taken advantage of by someone like him.” He explains, as if he’s not trying to take advantage of the situation himself.

Jake nods, not really needing to think too much about how good of a deal this is. 

“What makes you think I could pull her though? You just said that she’s hot. Since when can I pull hot girls?”

“Well, you probably can’t,” Jay laughs, “But you could probably play the part pretty well if you act like your GPA is garbage and like, i don’t know? Act cool? She seems to like the idiot edgy guys.”

Jay is pleased with the way Jake instantly accepts, and doesn’t focus on the fact any longer that he called his step sister hot, or at least, until he does.

“Okay. Act cool, maybe paint my nails–” Jake’s eyes light up. “Oh! Do you think she’s into, like, band guys? I can pull out your old guitar and say you’re teaching me to play so I can get bitches.”

Jay smacks him across the head for already acting about as dumb as you’d probably like, then actually considers the fact that it’s a great idea.

“Wait, yeah actually.” Jay smiles. “Would probably be best if she doesn’t know we are friends too. Use that as an excuse to come over and hangout and stuff.” He trails off momentarily before Jake speaks again.

“So, is she actually hot though?” 

Jay freezes, because yeah. But he really can’t just say that again considering the circumstances. Plus, why the fuck should Jake care? He only said it before as a means to convince him to take the deal.

“You’ll like her.” He avoids saying anything else, ignoring the feeling in his gut that he knows Jake is going to be all over you the second he gets the chance. “Just–listen, there are rules involved in this.” Jay finally warns, tapping his wallet.

“Rules? Okay, go on.” 

“For two hundred a month, take her out. Just dates. Talk to her and hang out with her, I don’t know.” He starts, waving his hands around as if he’s trying to think about what he’s saying, and ultimately, beating around the bush. He notes quite quickly though, how Jake looks at him as if he just stated the obvious.

“I mean, like, don’t fuck her. Don’t kiss her, don’t be weird.”

Because that, somehow, feels worse than knowing you’re already wasting your body on Sunghoon. 

Jake tilts his head in confusion.

“How exactly are you going to pay me to date her and not act like I’m interested?” He asks, furrowing his brows. “What if she tries to kiss me? What if she tries to fuck me?”

Jay laughs, or snorts, really.

“Please.” He waves him off. “I doubt that will be an issue but if, for some insane reason it does come up– just tell her you’re saving yourself or something.”

And at the end of the day, Jake accepts the terms of the deal, not yet pocketing the money because Jay tells him that he needs to go home before you come home. 

Why? Because he’s not looking the part. If you walk in and see this loser sitting in front of him, you’ll automatically know that Jake is a close friend of Jay’s. You need to not know that. 

So, with that, Jake goes home with a plan to come over for “guitar lessons” the following day, at a time where Jay knows you’ll be home. And then? After the initial meeting, he will get his first payment. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He knew it. Jay fucking knew you were a slut. 

Jake didn’t even have to try that hard. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic to watch. If anyone on campus found out, if Sunghoon found out how you’re acting right now, he thinks your reputation would spiral straight into the gutter. 

And while he shames you for unintentionally falling into the trap, he feels proud. Proud that his best friend is able to play a part so well. 

Jake came over, dark hair unbrushed but somehow intentionally styled, flannel hanging off his shoulder, where a ratty black tank covered his chest underneath. Ripped jeans just tight enough to show off, just loose enough to make it look like he knows how to wear these kinds of clothes, and he wears them well. Nails painted, and it even appears that he intentionally chipped them. 

Hell, he barely recognized his own best friend when he walked through the door. 

“Holy shit.” Jay had said upon sizing him up. “What the fuck?” 

And Jake just smiled at him, with the same loser-filled dopey grin as he always had before the two of them went to Jay’s room, made sure the door was open, and plugged in the guitar for maximum noise level.

After all, His father and your mother go on date nights like three times a week it seems. There’s plenty of time to be rowdy college kids if need be. 

And the need is definitely here. 

It wasn’t long by the time you came home, curious as to why you were hearing the sound of guitar strings being plucked terribly. When the fuck did Jay play a guitar? Arguably, if this is what he does when no one is home, maybe he’s a little more likable in the fact that his hobbies aren’t sitting around and jerking off while staring at his GPA. 

When you walked into the room though, prepared to annoy the fuck out of your step-brother, you stopped upon seeing him look the same as ever while sitting just in front of….some guy.

Just, some fucking guy. 

A hot fucking guy. 

With a guitar on his lap, with your step brother offering direction to him.

Jay looked at you, noted your curiosity of his best friend-turned-pretend-stranger, and then glared. 

“Can I help you?” He had said, taking the guitar from the guy and propping it up on his lap.

You stood there, feeling the eyes of the other dude staring you up and down before shaking your head 

“Uh, no.” You had responded before awkwardly slinking away and into your own room.

And honestly, it would have ended there if it weren’t for the fact that Jake was immediately whisper shouting at Jay about how you really are hot. Making plans on how to get you back in the room, or perhaps how to get Jake out of it and beside you.

It wasn’t hard really, as Jay reminds himself how it all went down. His own discomfort aside at how Jake appears to act much like he does in his own head. 

“Just finished up the lesson, you wanna come eat something with us?” He had said, far too out of character.

“You give fucking guitar lessons?” You responded, entirely confused by the fact that….Jay was the one who played the nice sounding strums, not the guy in front of him, the one that appeared to be the type to be the one giving the lesson.

“Yeah? Are you coming or not?”

You paused, and ultimately joined them upon Jay stating that you could starve for all he cares. 

And that’s when Jake started his act. 

Sitting next to you, looking at you, asking about your interests, telling you that Jay is helping him learn the guitar because he has dreams of forming his own band someday. That he’s in college but doesn’t really care much for it, that his dreams lie in the stars still and no desk or nine to five job would bring them down for him.

Jay did want to smack his best friend across the head for that lame line, but you seemed to think it was poetic, or romantic, or some shit. It only further reminded him that you’re entirely too dumb and he needs to be here to make sure you don’t get all caught up again with a guy who doesn’t look at you the way he does. 

The way he can’t stop looking at you, actually. 

Jay watched as you fell in tune with his best friend’s pretend-persona, and arguably Jake was far more charismatic than usual. If he chose to really dress like this, or act like this, Jay thinks he could probably pull any girl he wants. 

And he watched, and he watched, and he watched. Up until the third time Jake pretended he was going to leave so as to not intrude in the home any further. 

Jay didn’t have to make the excuse that time. It was you. 

And that’s when he noted that you are, absolutely, unmistakably, a fucking slut. 

Why? Well, it could be due to the fact that after having a quick meal, you ran to your room and came back out dawning your own fucking tank top, showing off a pair of nice tits that you seemed to hide from him. Which, his head shouldn’t be in the gutter about that but man. He and Jake were both stunned at how you decided to present yourself. 

Could be due to the fact that it’s like, you met Jake for a solid hour and immediately started sucking up. Using a cute voice that Jay knows for a fact is fake as hell. You whine about Sunghoon, like you’d struggle to truly break up with him, but you’re still all over Jake like you’ve been flirting for fucking years.

It could also be due to the fact that you invited Jake to stay longer by inviting him into your room under the guise of “checking out your music selection.”

Jay was left to his devices by that point, where you led his best friend to your room and closed the door in his face with the argument of, “Jongseong, since when were you so interested in what I listen to anyway?”

He huffed in annoyance at you saying his name and then slamming the door on him, he huffs in even more annoyance as he steps back and leans against the wall thinking hard about the plan he’s come up with. 

The fact that he’s living with a total skank who never once looked at him the way you did to Jake all fucking day. Is he that boring? Really? He knew you liked edgy guys based on Sunghoon. Such a pretty boy, despite getting rowdy and dirty during hockey practice and matches. Jay never understood how he kept his face pristine, and also never understood why girls liked him at all when it came to how much of an asshole he was. 

And then there’s Jake, playing the part of someone Jay assumed you’d like. It’s the fact that you do like it, and it’s entirely different from himself. Even if you weren’t now related by marriage, he probably never would have had a fucking chance with you to begin with.

Even with all of that clicking in his head, he still finds himself wanting you more now than he ever did before. With that fucking tank top, and that stupid fake voice you were using, and with your stupid interest in his stupid best friend.

This was probably a bad idea. After all, he could have just left it alone but no. He just had to be in control of who you’re dating. At the very least though, Jake knows to keep his hands to himself, and that’s the only thing that comforts Jay in regards to this deal.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Jongseong?” Jake laughs when you close the door and trap him in your room with him. Eyes glued to you and the sweet deal Jay offered up. “I’ve never heard him called that before.”

He’s lying, of course. Jake has been in and out of this house since he was a child. He’s heard the name hundreds of times, if not thousands. 

“I know, right? I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard it the first time.” You snicker, putting on a show when you head to your unpacked box of disks and vinyls. “I don’t think he likes it when I call him that, so I try to do it as much as possible.”

Jake offers you a crooked smile, messy hair dangling in front of his eyes as if they were somewhat….shy? Like he’s being bashful in this room with you, but you try not to think about that because, well, look at him. 

He doesn’t seem like the shy type. 

“Maybe I’ll start doing it too then.” Jake laughs, standing awkwardly behind you when you bend over to pick up the box. Immediately he chokes up, stepping closer unintentionally because honestly, who wouldn’t think with their dick at this point? 

And when you stand back up, turning with the box, you jump at how close he’s gotten. 

“Oh!” You breathe in surprise, looking away shyly for a moment, wondering how lucky you must be for your boring ass step brother to invite such a nice looking guy into the home. “Um, you have a nice smile.” You add out of nowhere, and then immediately feel embarrassed. 

“You have nice tits,” is what Jake would say in response if he were for one, allowed to, and two, not a nervous mess about being alone in a room with such a pretty girl.

Only now does he realize how difficult this might be to get through. For two hundred dollars? Well, it’s a sweet deal if you actually want to go on a date with him, and given the persona he’s given himself, he thinks he could probably get away with asking tonight. Which is insane, because he really thought he’d be paid another two hundred just to get to that point. You’re entirely into him though, and he hates to admit that he might be entirely into you too. Jay would kick his ass if he knew what’s going through his head right now.

“I like your tank top,” Jake says instead, wanting to reach forward and snap the strap of it solely because he feels confident enough to do it, but he doesn’t. The words are actually quite lame, and are a blatant show at how bad he is at talking to girls. Thankfully though, you know, since he’s supposed to sound like a guy with two brain cells, it kinda works out. 

“It matches mine.” 

You smile shyly yet again, entirely in tune with the idea of taking Jay’s advice and having some fun yourself. Perhaps with this guy. But for now? You have to at least pretend you actually want to show him your music collection.

And of course, Jake has to pretend he actually cares about it when you sit down on your bed and start sifting through the boxes. 

“Huh, you like some pretty heavy stuff. I wasn’t expecting that.” Jake compliments, though uninterested in a music taste that isn’t his own, it’s insane how the two of you do listen to some of the same bands. 

“Oh yeah? Why not?” You ask, sitting up straight and making sure your chest looks good enough to keep his eyes glancing down at them.

Because he hasn’t stopped looking, really. 

“I dunno,” Jake shrugs, watching how your tits squeeze together and he can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. No girl has ever tried to show off for him like this, and he’s enjoying it a bit too much. “I, um,” He loses his train of thought when you lean back, letting your breasts fall into their natural position as you look at him. 

“My eyes are up here, Jake.” You smile, watching him tear his eyes away and swallow around a lump in his throat. 

“Oh, right.” He lends a nervous chuckle, one that he feels is entirely out of character given the personality he’s supposed to have. “Can’t really help it, they’re nice.”

Ah, right back into the act, perfect. 

He almost panicked at the forwardness too, because Jake would never have the confidence to say such a thing to a woman on any other day. 

“Oh? You can’t?” You smile, leaning back up and pushing the box from your lap. “Maybe I should cover up then?” You add, staring right at his flannel. 

Jake notes your line of sight and then looks down at his own shirt. 

“What?” He says, pinching the collar of the flannel and shaking it. “You already wanna wear my clothes?” He smiles. 

“If you wanna see me in them.” You comment shortly, sizing him up for the billionth time. “Or out of them.”

Well, it’s safe to say Jake wasn’t prepared for that. This deal is going a bit too smoothly, and he just knows that Jay must not have any idea of this side of you. His sister, right here, insinuating Jake should like, take her clothes off. Or rather, take his clothes off of you.

It’s against the rules but goddamn is he feeling the spark with you. Right in his pants, actually. Embarrassingly. 

“I’ll give it to you right now if you go out with me tomorrow night.” Jake avoids the situation smoothly, while offering an alternative. “Then, we can talk about getting my clothes off of you.”

You nod, feeling your heart skip beats at flirting with a man that isn’t Sunghoon. 

“Hand it over then.” You reach out, leaning in real close to him. “But, I’d still rather you keep staring at my tits.”

Man, following the rules Jay set in place is gonna be way, way, harder than he thought. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake could get used to this, really. Taking you on dates, anyway. What he can’t get used to? Dodging anything more than dirty talk and then coming over just the next day to see the confusion on your face as to why he isn’t picking up your hints. 

He wants to, like really, he really, really, fucking wants to. You’re so blatant with him on dates, rubbing up on him, whispering slutty little words that only drive his cock to pulse and beg to be used. He can’t bear it, especially knowing that these very dates are paid for by your own step brother.

 Still, if he were allowed, he probably could have gotten himself between your legs on the very first day he met you. 

“No, dude, she was all over me this time, even more than usual.” Jake explains to Jay during another guitar lesson, pleased that he’s actually learning how to play. “She even mentioned that guy Sunghoon and said I was way cooler than him.”

Jay was pleased, he could say. Save for the jealousy that only grows each time he watches you take Jake away from his lesson to hang out with, without him. Save for the fact that you only continue to prove that you like any guy who isn’t him. In reality, why would you? He knows there is logic to this situation, but he is finding it harder and harder every day to think logically around you. 

Jealous. He’s jealous. He’s mad at how bad you want it from Jake. Hell, you’d probably take it from anyone at this point as he eyes his best friend and his new found fashion sense. It matches him, and acting like an idiot seems to match him too. Maybe Jay should consider not brushing his hair and dumbing down a little bit too. 

Then again, this could just be the resentment in him building up. He’s the only reason Jake has a girl throwing herself at him. Both you and Jake should be far more thankful for what Jay has brought upon the three of you. 

Still, he’s pissed about how good the plan is working, and before long, he’s hoping that Sunghoon will be long forgotten when Jake finally asks you to be his girlfriend. Then he can toy around for a bit before breaking up with you under the guise that “you’re just not his type.”

“I had the idea that she was easy,” Jay explains, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “No wonder Sunghoon kept coming back, it’s like he knew she would throw herself at him at the drop of a hat.” 

Jake pauses, furrowing his brow. 

“Why would you even say something like that?” Jake asks, tilting his head. “Aren’t we doing this to like, help her?”

Jay shakes his thoughts out, realizing how awful that must have sounded. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves off his edgy best friend. “Of course. I was just saying.”

There's some awkward silence in the room now as Jay’s internal panic takes over. He doesn’t want his reputation on the line for this. Even just to Jake. Perhaps he’s being too resentful with his words, only able to offer passive-aggressive remarks out loud when it comes to you. 

“I just thought that if we got her away from him, maybe she’d stop throwing herself at guys that don’t care about her, is all.”

Jake gives him a look of further confusion, maybe even some concern. “Um, isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” 

Damn, Jay really should’ve thought that through. Is he losing his touch? Is your stupidity rubbing off on him now?

“Yeah, but you’re not touching her so, maybe it’ll help her learn some fucking self restraint? I don’t know dude, just be a good boyfriend, fuck.” 

Jake raises his hands in defense, realizing he basically interrogated Jay of his choice of words, and perhaps thought too deeply into them. Still, he can’t help but feel like Jay holds some type of hatred within him for you, which is weird, considering the lengths he is going to try and “help” you. 

“God, relax.” Jake reaches forward to grab his best friend by the shoulders. “As much as she throws herself at me, I guess I can kind of understand what you mean.” 

Jake understands far too well, having gone through one too many dates while trying to contain himself to give in to your every hint or insinuation of at least kissing. 

He happens to miss the way Jay glares at him for his words though. Because in all honesty, no one is allowed to talk about you like that but him, and there was something in him that broke to hear Jake insinuate that you’re a slut. Like Jake isn’t the luckiest guy in the world right now to have you throwing yourself at him? 

Bullshit.

“I’ll be a good boyfriend, I promise.” Jake finally adds, checking his watch. “She’s gonna be home soon too. I’ll try and get her to hang out in the living room this time so you can see what I mean though.”

Jay wants to refuse the option to watch even more than he already has to, but there’s something in him that kind of can’t resist it. 

“She likes horror movies, you know?” Jake continues, giving Jay information that he probably should have already known, but somehow doesn’t. “I’ll tell her that you wanted to watch the new one, and I’ll pay to rent it since, you know, you’re paying me to do this.”

Jay shrugs casually, anticipating the image of you and his best friend all tangled up on the couch, while he’s stuck at the end by himself. With no one. Alone. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dad’s probably gonna be home but I can ask for the living room.” 

“Oh shit, wait–” Jake thinks hard. “What if he sees me looking like this? Acting like this? She’s gonna find out that I've been lying this entire time about us being friends and shit.”

Jake only panics because he believes he’s acting more with Jay than he is with you. If you were to find out that he’s been lying, you’d be so angry at him. But do you know what scares him more? Jay finding out that he maybe kind of actually likes you more than he’s supposed to.

Jay sighs in defeat because his best friend is right, if his father finds out that Jake is running around acting like this, dressing like this, he’ll definitely say something about it.

“You know…” Jake finally says, staring at Jay’s TV. 

“No.” Jay immediately shuts the idea down, not at all wanting to experience the two of you tangled together on his own bed. 

“Dude, come on. Why not?”

Jay rolls his eyes in an annoyed huff, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stands to put the guitar away, ignoring that there was no practicing at all today. It’s just been hours of talking about you. And how you’ve managed to find yourself a summer job so fast, and how you’re entirely horny for Jake, and how–

“I don’t want to see my own sister try and get in your pants in my room.” Jay tries to explain as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then, immediately he gives in. Solely because the sudden thought of you lying in his bed at all again is something that….might help later.

“Jake, so help me god if you so much as brush your hand across her tit I’m going to slice your tires.”

Jake smiles in victory, nodding to his best friend with the promise that, at least tonight, he wouldn’t do such a thing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every day you find yourself wondering why it is that Jake appears to be so into you, yet constantly shooting you down. 

When you try to kiss him, he leans in, his eyes start to close, sometimes you can even feel his breath on your lips then, he just– pulls away?

When you try to insinuate that you want to touch him, or want him to touch you, you can physically see his reaction. The way his ears go red, his eyes go dark, and occasionally you even catch a glimpse of what’s in his pants growing heavy and strained. 

It’s driving you crazy, really. With the way he talks all that shit but doesn’t live up to it. He’ll say some of the nicest things, he’ll dirty talk you in the middle of a restaurant, he’ll even make promises to follow through with it too. But he never does. You find yourself wondering why you even continue to text him back, or why you consistently keep this fucking flannel he offered up to you on the first day of meeting. 

Every single date, you’ve worn it, just to see if he’s got the nerve to take it off of you. And every single date he pretends like it wasn’t his flannel to begin with, despite his hungry stare constantly staying on you. 

So now, as you awkwardly half-lay on Jay’s bed with him, Jay separated and on his computer chair, you wonder why he’s even here. 

Sure, Jay gives him lessons but as far as you know, it’s a little strange that he stayed over to watch a movie with you presumably, only to invite Jay, and to you know, watch it inside of Jay’s room.

Are they like, friends now or something? Well, arguably they had to have at least been friends on some level, but still. It feels awkward hanging out with Jay when you’re trying to get his “friend” to rail you. 

Either way, you guess you don’t mind too much when Jake is actually next to you. Most doubt sinks into the back of your head and the confusion is replaced with that of extreme arousal. Something about this guy, Jake, is alluring and feels…right? Is that the right word for it? Like, correct? Or maybe, meant to be? 

You know, maybe he’s waiting on sleeping with you because despite his edgy appearance and his dead-beat goals in life, maybe he really is just a big softie and wants this to work out long-term. God, you hope you’re right about that.

Doesn’t stop you from trying though, as the movie reaches its climax and you move your hand under the covers against Jake’s legs, feeling the rips of his jeans and sliding your hand through one of them. Gently, attempting to feel the warmth of his skin in a discreet and somewhat cheeky way. 

You hear his intake of breath at the touch, his shoulders stiffening as he stares forward to try and focus on the movie. Still, you feel his hand move lower, lying it directly on yours with only his thin, ripped denim separating the touch. 

“Oops.” You whisper to him, slowly massaging the thick of his thigh with your finger tips, toying with the way he reacts.

You don’t notice the way his eyes shift to Jay, who was already glaring at the movement he noted under the covers, on his fucking bed.

Jake, on the other hand, feels like he’s between a rock and a hard place right now. 

He’s being paid to pretend to like you, being paid to not genuinely like you, being paid to not touch you, and practically being paid to ask you to be his girlfriend only to break up with you.

Which fucking sucks because he maybe, kind of, likes you? A little bit?

A lot, actually, especially with your cheeky little whispers and sneaky little hands. 

Arguably though, Jay should have known better than to expect Jake to not feel some type of way towards a girl like you. To Jake, it’s insane anyone could simply pretend to be into you without actually falling in deep. You’re not only hot, but you’re fucking funny too? You laugh at his jokes? You cuddle up with him? You’re actually a lot smarter than Jay gives you credit for? And you appear to want to kiss and touch him just as bad as he does.

So, it’s torture really, that he’s so close to breaking. So fucking close to kicking Jay out of his own room just to feel what your hands alone could do for him but, he refrains. 

He suffers, sitting here with this not very good horror movie, pretending his cock doesn’t ache for you. Pretending his own best friend doesn’t see how much he wants it. Yet, still hoping you see. 

And you do. You do see it. 

You feel it too, as you shift your hands out of his ripped jeans and move them upwards as silently and secretly as you can while remaining focused on the movie. You brush your pinky up and against the dick you clearly want so badly at this point. And the way Jake flexes it, almost intentionally lifting his cock up for you to know he likes it, despite the risk of Jay seeing. Despite the fact that he hasn’t done this at any point when the two of you were alone. 

You smile to yourself, pushing your hand closer, closer, closer, until you grab it.

There goes his stiff shoulders again, there goes a soft sigh, and you’re fucking beaming.

Jay sees the way the covers are moving over the lap of his best friend, and honestly? He’s appalled over the fact that Jake was right. You fucking throw yourself at him with no shame, to the point that not even being in the same room as your step-brother would stop you enough to have some fucking self-restraint. 

He watches for a while, about five minutes or so. Studies the way Jake makes attempts to arch away from your touch as if he’s following the rules of the deal but, Jay isn’t stupid. Jake, of all people, should know that. He can fucking see the way he also arches into your touch too, despite it all being under the blanket he sleeps under at night. 

It’s not until Jay sees you throw your leg over Jake’s, and you lean in really close to him to the point your face is hidden in his neck and Jake appears to be listening to something you’re saying, that he decides to put a stop to this. 

Neither of you are even watching this movie. You’re encouraging Jake, surely. You’re trying to snake your hand down his pants. You’re trying to fuck his best friend, right in front of him. 

It feels like an insult, or perhaps an intentional act of defiance and god knows Jake wouldn’t be able to resist if Jay himself feels a twitch in his pants at the scene unfolding, even through this frustration. 

Why are you like this? Why do you just–do this to yourself? To him? To his best friend? Why do you seem to know how irresistible you are? It’s almost at the point that Jay wouldn’t even want to put a stop to it solely to see what your hands could to for him if this life wasn’t so fucked up. 

Still, he has to put an end to it. Jake is breaking the rules. 

“Are you really trying to do that right now?” Jay asks out, and he watches the way you snap your hand back and lean away from Jake. 

Both heads turn to him, and he huffs out a sigh of frustration that shows you crossed a line. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to pretend that you weren’t doing anything at all to the pretty boy sitting next to you. 

“God–” Jay grimaces. “You’re really gonna play dumb after arguing with me that you’re not?”

You lift past Jake, staring at him. 

“You can be a whore all you want, but to assume I want to see it? You’re disgusting. I’m your fucking step-brother.” He finally says, as if it’s final, and as if to convince himself that every word he spits is true. 

Jake remains silent as he listens to the way Jay speaks to you, quite offended for you, maybe even a bit pissed off about it himself. Then again, it could just be because Jay is dead set on cock-blocking him. 

You though? You feel silenced, a little embarrassed, and entirely turned on by the fact that Jake’s first time letting you actually touch him, was right here. Maybe he’s into that. You know, like, being caught or something. Still, the quickness in which Jay shames you isn’t shocking at all but for him to have an ego to the point of assuming you did this for him to watch? Insane, he’s so fucking stuck in his head to believe that everything a person does, is because of him. 

A fucking text-book narcissist.

“And you.” Jay says, shifting his eyes over to Jake. “You could do better.”

Ouch. That stings a little bit, as your eyes avoid looking towards Jay and fall onto Jake, who only swallows at his words. 

Without another word, you shift from the bed, stand to your feet, and walk out, leaving the two in the room alone.

Jake feels, uh, bad? 

Or rather, he knows he’s supposed to but he simply doesn’t. After all, it’s been two paychecks from Jay now and he still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend solely because he finds himself wanting it to last. 

Even without the sex. Even with the intense edging he’s being put through. Even with the fact that he’s hard as a rock as Jay attempts to scold him, he doesn’t feel bad.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jay finally offers to the silence of the room upon turning off the movie. “Did we not agree that you’d–”

Jake huffs out, annoyed for the first time.

“Dude, shut up already.” He rolls his eyes as he turns to his friend, wincing at the way his cock is going soft and sensitive. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking see me try to stop her.”

Jay thinks that through for a moment. Not entirely blaming Jake for like, eventually giving up and letting you touch him but also entirely pissed that it’s happening for Jake, and not for himself. 

“You did a bad fucking job of it.” He gripes back to him. “If you give in to the fact that she has no self-respect, you’re just as bad as Sunghoon and I’ll just go find someone else to take care of her.” 

Jake pauses because he's right in terms of the deal but god. It’s not like he can just out and say “hey, so i think i actually like her and wouldn’t be against actually dating her, like for real, also i hate the way you talk to her so if you don’t stop i might have to punch you in the face.” 

“I’m not going to give in.” Jake lies, knowing for a fact that it’s only a matter of time before he does. “She still cries over Sunghoon and I’m genuinely trying to make this situation better here, Jay, so fucking relax.”

Jay wants to believe him, but truly, he doesn’t. Solely because there’s no way he won't give in considering what he’s just witnessed. At this point, you might actually end up wanting to be with Jake for good, and Jay will lose his control of the whole situation. 

“Plus, you can’t just go find some stranger to do this, they’d definitely fuck her, day one.” Jake makes a good point to his friend, reminding him that he isn’t the dumb guy he’s parading as. 

Jay does take those words into account. Honestly, he really would have the entire control taken from him if he paid someone else to do this. At least he can threaten Jake with friendship, or guilt him or something if he does step over the line.

“Hurry it up then, I don’t want this shit to last all summer.” Jay finally huffs out, slightly defeated that this is his fault anyway, but still trusting his best friend and understanding him on some level. 

“Okay, I’ll go ask her to be my girlfriend right now.” Jake smiles. “The sooner I ask, the sooner she gets over him, and the sooner all of this can be over with, right?”

He hopes he’s wrong.

Jay nods reluctantly, and Jake is instantly out of the room and able to breathe the biggest sigh of relief in his life. It’s insane how he’d rather be with you over his own childhood best friend, but whatever. Life works in mysterious ways or something. 

And as Jay sits in silence, glaring at the spot on the bed where you had his best friend’s dick in your hand, all he can do is feel angry.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hear the soft knock on your door and already know exactly who it is. It’s not Jay, it’s not his father, and it’s certainly not your mother. 

The knock is gentle, almost reluctant despite knowing he’s allowed to walk into your room at any point, without so much as asking. 

“Come in.” You smile to yourself, trying to push the awkward situation that just happened out of your mind. 

The door opens and Jake steps inside, looking to the floor and seemingly avoiding eye contact with you. Part of you wonders if it’s because he finally had the balls to let you touch his dick, but another part of you knows it’s probably because Jay just chewed his ass out for letting you do it right in front of him.

“Sorry about doing that,” You look away now, trying to deafen the silence in your room into a numbness that doesn’t feel nearly as awkward as it does right now. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of Jongseo-”

Jake immediately shakes his head at your words, sitting down on your bed and grabbing your face in his hands. 

It’s a shock, actually, that only now he acts the way you expected from the beginning. 

“It’s my fault.” Jake explains, holding your face to look at him. “I wanted to make you my girlfriend before we did anything more–” He continues, already leaning in to kiss you for the first time without shying away from it. “I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to fuck you.” 

And man, that hit you right in the heart, especially because he said it, and then immediately kissed you before letting you answer him. As if he was afraid you’d say no or something. As if he’s trying to prove something right now. 

He certainly is proving it too, surprising you in the way he’s a decent kisser though not entirely great at it. Such a confident and pretty boy seems to not have nearly as much experience with girls as he lets on. That alone was something you picked up on, because let’s be honest. 

No one but Jake would get that obviously hard at a restaurant over spilled water on your tits. 

And when he pulls back from the kiss, he feels elated in the way he just lied straight to Jay’s face. Promising to follow through with the deal, which also held the promise of no physical contact with you. 

He really walked straight out of his best friend’s room, went to your room, and kissed you. He couldn’t be prouder of it when he pulls back, heart pounding in defiance, and looking at you for an answer. 

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” Is the first thing you ask, feeling his hands fall from your face and land against both sides of your hips as you look at him. “And that’s why you let me make a fool of myself trying to get in your pants?”

You both smile before chuckling and looking away from each other at how blatant that question was, because you both know how true it is. 

Only Jake knows how true it isn’t supposed to be though. 

“Yeah,” He answers, looking away from you and ignoring the chill on his shoulders from the air in your room. He really should stop trying to dress like a slutty man for you, honestly. It’s no wonder you were all over him.

“I kind of don’t think it would be a good idea if I fuck my guitar teacher’s sister without at least taking her on a few date’s first, you know?”

“Hah,” You roll your eyes briefly before flopping back against your pillows and feeling the way his hands fall lower to the top of your thighs. They’re warm, and big. “You’re always around and I can’t say Jongseong has that many friends to begin with.”

Jake almost feels bad that he knows you’re right. 

“Arguably, you’re probably his only friend and he would feel embarrassed knowing you don’t even see him as one to begin with.” You laugh at how sad Jay really is as a person. “Just your guitar teacher, huh?”

Someone so entitled, so fucking rude. If anything, he should know by now that his lack of friends are determined entirely by his shitty personality. 

“I can see that,” Jake nods, staying put as you blink up at him from the pillows. “I mean, I like hanging out with him but I don’t necessarily like the way he talks to you. I can imagine he’d kill me if he knew I kissed you.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can assure you, Jake. He doesn’t give two fucks about me.” Your arms reach out for him, and immediately he intertwines his fingers with yours.

And it feels good for him to do. To have a girlfriend in some way, despite it not technically being real to anyone but himself and you. After all, a relationship built on a lie can’t last, can it? 

Maybe he really should just stick to the plan and pull back before it’s too late. Maybe you wouldn’t even be interested in him if he didn’t act this way. Or if he didn’t dress this way. Or talk this way. Or play guitar. 

How could he ever think he’s even in the right to do this to begin with? What? For two hundred a month? God, he fucked up yet, he doesn’t want to turn back now. 

There’s a chance it can still work, right? He can at least enjoy the time he has with you before he inevitably has to break up with you, right? 

You don’t have to know about the deal, and Jay doesn’t have to know about how he intends to break the terms of it. 

…Right? 

“So,” Jake finally says, looking away from you before turning and falling forward over you, keeping his fingers tightly locked with yours above your head as he lands his face in front of yours. “Will you be my girlfriend then?” 

You smile shyly, looking down before making direct eye contact with him again. Noting how his lips constantly form a natural pout in silence, and the way his eyes are always so bright. 

“What about when my break is over and I have to go back to campus?” You ask reluctantly, hoping that he isn’t like Sunghoon. “Are you just going to stop talking to me?”

Jake hates that he is in a position where he has to lie, going back and forth in his mind of whether to betray himself or his own best friend.

“I like you, you know?” He says, not breaking eye contact. Trying to will his words now to stick with you through the inevitable break up if that's what it comes down to. “I’d come see you every weekend.” 

You smile. 

“So, what? You think I’m just gonna let you be so far away all the time?” He continues, instilling a sense of comfort in your chest. “You think I’d be able to stay away from you for a whole semester? I can barely make it a few days as is.”

The way he chuckles at how silly your question sounds makes you feel…wanted? Almost needed?

And as you look up at him, with that mess of fluffy hair and big, sparkling eyes, all you can think about is how lucky you feel to have so many new people in your life this summer. Even Jay. You appreciate the fact that he brought Jake into your life, even if accidental. 

You’re happy your mom is in love, happy that his father appears to be good for her, happy that Jake is here right now, treating you like a goddamn person. 

Happy that Sunghoon hasn’t texted you. 

Happy that even Jay encourages you to keep your break-up status with the man, showing that he cares on some level for your well being. 

“You’re too good to be true, you know?” You say, sending Jake into an absolute world or happiness.

He’s never had a girl tell him that. Let alone a girl so fucking pretty.

“That still doesn’t answer the question, babe.” He finally says, ticking his tongue as if he’s being cheeky. 

“Oh, right.” You roll your eyes with a smile. “I thought I was being obvious with my answer, but I forgot that you’re kind of dumb.” You add with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against his nose. 

“I am kinda dumb, aren’t I?”

If only you knew how true that statement is. No GPA can explain why he feels so stupidly attracted and attached to you. He can’t explain it to anyone but you. 

Jay would kill him if he knew how real he wants this to be. 

“A little, yeah.” You laugh, kissing his cheek this time. 

“For you, at least.” He whispers, feeling like he’s being far more real than he should be and loving every second of it. “So, be my girlfriend.”

You roll your eyes again, lending him an even brighter laugh.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t?” 

And he just smiles, dipping down to kiss you again for the second time. 

You can’t help but feel elated by it, and the way he seems to break how eager he’s been for this. Elated by the fact that he waited, and he has done nothing but respect you as a person. 

Arguably, you don’t think you could ever refuse to be his girlfriend. With that rough fashion sense and entirely too-soft personality. It’s such a stark contrast when you think about it.

All of the cocky dirty talk, all of his boldness? It was clearly just a front that would make you like him because this is not at all what you expected. If anything, it’s a pleasant surprise that he did that for you. Showing off, trying to get your attention, then flipping on a dime when you give him the time of day. 

“You’re a lot sweeter than I thought you’d be.” You finally whisper out. “Honestly, I expected you to fuck the lights out of me and never call back the first day we met.”

Jake chuckles, trying to avoid how much that statement turns him on because on instinct he knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Can I be honest?” He asks against your lips, lending a small lick to the bottom one with a nod. “I really, really, wanted to.”

You pause, opening your eyes and seeing that he’s already looking at you. 

“I would have called you though.” He smiles, calming the immediate insecurity you felt about his statement.

Now though? The thought of knowing Jake wanted to fuck you since day one only drives you to like him more than you already did. 

“Oh yeah?” You smile, feeling his fingers release from yours and move right back to your hips. “Does it make me a bad person to say I would have let you?”

Jay would have called you a slut again over that. 

“No, babe.” He shakes his head with an amazed chuckle. “If that makes you a bad person, wouldn’t it make me a bad person too?”

Wow, the first man to ever speak to you as an equal. 

Jay would probably call him a slut too. 

“What about now, then?”

God, Jake really can’t resist. He’s already waited so long, and now that you’re officially his girlfriend…kind of, why should he? Jay doesn’t need to know that he’s trying to think up some way to get out of the deal. Really, Jay should be happy that you’ll be with someone who actually cares for you, right? 

After all, this whole plan was to help you. 

Why should it matter if it ends a little bit differently? All he needs to do is sit him down and talk to him. All he needs to do is not accept any more money, right? Technically, Jay isn’t the type to be that bad of a person. Like, he wouldn’t actually be mad that Jake caught feelings, right?

He’s not breaking the rules if it’s true. 

“If you can be quiet–” Jake says, leaning back and glancing around the room. “Jay was really mad about what happened in his room, I don’t want him to kick my ass thinking I came in here and railed his sister.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jay doesn’t give a shit. He probably thinks we’ve already been fucking.”

God, the dynamic between you and your step brother is so fucking weird, Jake thinks. You have such a weird view of him, and he seems to have such a weird view of you. You really think Jay doesn’t give a shit while he’s the one who seems entirely too protective of you while also being an absolute scum-bag towards you. 

“Still,” Jake pauses, pulling back entirely and sitting over you. “I’d rather your parents not walk in.”

“Then, lock the door?” You offer, eyes scanning his body and noting the way he’s always hard when he’s with you. Those tight jeans do nothing to save him the embarrassment, and part of you wonders how often he wore them on purpose. 

Plus, you can imagine he’s probably suffering after having already played with him briefly in Jay’s room. 

“Right. Doors have locks on them.” Jake dead-pans, standing up and wincing at the way his cock is entirely too obvious about what he wants to do right now. “I’ll just–” He points his thumb to your door before locking it and practically leaps back on the bed with you, laughing all the way.

And you know, the last thing Jake expected today was to share his first real touch with you, first real kiss with you, or his first time actually, like, pushing to break the rules. He’s a little nervous, seeing as how he’s maybe had sex with two girls in his entire life, but still.

He can’t possibly be bad at it, right? 

It doesn’t process in his mind how he’s absolutely breaking boundaries right now, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. The way you laugh along with him sets his heart aflame, and the way you look at him shows him that this could be real. He could truly be your boyfriend, slowly reverting back to his normal self under the guise of a “bad boy” phase or something. 

And now, as you look at him, you note how soft he truly is despite all of those dirty words he said previously. He’s really just sitting on your bed, laughing like a boy in love and it makes you feel entirely different than how Sunghoon makes you feel.

“It’s nice, you know?” You say, glancing down when you reach out to him again, mostly to resume the position and pull him back on top of you.

“Hm?” He hums, following the pull and landing both of his hands on either side of your head, staring down at you as if he could eat straight through your chest and to your heart. “What is?”

“The fact that there’s someone here for me, I guess?” 

Ah, he’s a goner. Sorry Jay, the deal is over. 

“Do you think Sunghoon will try to get you back again?” Jake follows up. “You know I won’t let him, right? You’re my girlfriend now.” 

You smile, lifting your head a bit to kiss his plush top lip before shaking your head. 

“I’m sure he’ll try, but I don’t think I’m interested in him anymore,” You start, hearing the buzzing in the air due to the pure electric feeling in the room. “Now that I’ve met you, anyway.”

This is the point in which Jake is supposed to move back from you. This is when he’s supposed to whisper to Jay that the deal is done, and that Sunghoon is no longer an issue. This is the point that Jake absolutely shouldn’t be rolling off you, feeling your soft pillows hug around his head, and pulling you on top of him instead.

It’s like you’re meant to straddle him with how perfect you look right now.

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, losing the persona he’s supposed to have, unable to pretend like he isn’t smitten at this moment. 

“Yeah.” You say, smiling on top of him and feeling his length pulse beneath you.

You’ve wanted to get on him like this so bad, since the very first night you met him. He waited, he respected you, and now? He’s your boyfriend. He’d let you, right?

“You seem happy,” You rock back on him without warning, listening closely to the way he sighs out at the pressure you offer. “You said if I can be quiet, right?” 

He nods eagerly, unable to speak as he watches you move on him, hands reaching to brush the tufts of his dark hair out of his face. 

“Can’t make any promises, Jake–” You add, reaching down to the hem of your shirt and lifting it off of you in one motion. “What about you?”

Jake is stunned audibly. You heard his breathing hitch when your shirt blinded you from looking at him for a split second. And who could blame him? He knows he’s staring at the way your tits bounce with just the small lift of your shirt, bulging only partly over the lining of one of the cups.

 Immediately he throws one hand up, cupping one in his hand and bucking his hips upward at the ping of arousal centering itself in his body. 

“Can you be quiet?” You continue playfully, placing your hand over his and the other behind you, unclasping the bra with ease and letting it fall onto his chest. 

Jake immediately shakes his head because, no. Absolutely not. He will not be able to be quiet if any of his jerk off sessions regarding you are anything to go by. In fact, this situation could be quite telling about his lack of experience with women. This situation could be quite fucking telling to anyone outside of this room, actually.

“I thought not,” You smile, reaching down and lifting slightly to remove his ratty old t-shirt. “I don’t care if Jongseong hears anyway. He’s a weirdo, would probably be jealous.”

Jake would like to think you’re wrong about that, but something inside of him agrees with you. The way Jay reacts towards you is fucking weird and ultimately uncalled for. Then again, if Jake had to come home to a brand new sister, who is like– really hot, Jake would probably have a dilemma on his own.

Still, that’s kinda gross if it’s the case, so he tries not to think about it. 

“Let him hear then.” Jake finally says, confidence boosted solely because he is now thinking with his dick. 

His hands fall straight to your waist once you get his shirt off of him, his eyes stay glued to your tits, and all he can do is push and pull you over his length, praying that these tight jeans don’t rub him raw before he gets to pull it out. 

You can tell his body is acting on its own too, with the way he seems entirely gone for you over something so basic in terms of foreplay. After all, this is just grinding. It’s just tits. But you get it, as you stare directly at his toned body that has remained partially hidden from you until now. 

And it’s the way you’re just as shameless as he is when it gets hot and heavy. Your lips don’t leave his for the most part after that, at least until you hear his muffled moans as you’re soaking straight through your shorts and onto him. 

Both of you are kind of moaning into the kiss actually, and to you it sounds so loud, but you’re sure no one in the home has realized yet. Plus, locks. Doors have locks, so even if they did, you wouldn’t stop anyway. 

You can feel the way Jake wants to push, how he’s thinking a mile a minute in the way he kisses you. His tongue seems eager and messy, trying to kiss every part of you, trying to lick and taste your mouth in ways Sunghoon wouldn’t even do. 

Arguably, it’s sexy that he does this. So messy and dominating in the kiss despite being worse at it than he was when he came into the room. There’s something about the confidence in being bad at living life that turns you on. He could be bad at everything and you think you’d still want this with him. 

Even the way he moves you on his length is messy and not at all thought out. It’s jerky and almost frantic in the way he thrusts up out of time with your movements, like he’s chasing a consistent pressure on the whole of his cock. And like, if he wants that, maybe he should just pull it out for you. 

After all, even with the messy boy lying under you, kissing you like he’s desperate for it, you’re still wetter than you’ve ever been with another person.That’s an honest truth you can come to terms with too. Someone obviously so inexperienced? How does he make it feel better than Sunghoon’s expert hands? Fuck if you know, but you can’t help but love every second of how Jake writhes under you.

He acts like he’s never felt so good in his life, and that alone makes you feel entirely needed.

“Let me,” You say in a wet whisper against his lips, sliding your hand down between your bodies and attempting to undo his pants. “Jake, take them off.” You whine shortly after, unsuccessful with unbuttoning them on your own. 

“God, fuck, yeah, okay.” He responds frantically, out of breath. 

He lifts up, feeling you shift on his lap as you stay in place to your best ability and his eyes don’t leave yours when he undoes his own pants, blinking up with a pretty, glassy gaze and messy dark hair. 

All you can do in that moment is hug his head into your chest due to the sheer amount of endearment he gives you, brushing your fingers through his hair and halting his hands where they stay on his undone jeans. There, you grind, hiccuping what resembles a moan solely because he is genuinely just so fucking attractive. You can’t help it, you really can’t.

He’s in awe of the way you use him, hugging his face against your tits, which only allows him to attach his mouth to one of them and moan himself at what you’re doing to him. God, sign him up if this is how you fuck. Holding a person in place, grinding against them, smothering them with your pretty tits, moaning the whole time? He could give you everything. He wants to give you everything. All of him, all of the world, every shiny trinket that’s ever been made. 

Honestly? It doesn’t even matter that he couldn’t get his cock out yet, this is something he’s never had a girl do to him and it makes him feel entirely wanted. It’s an addicting feeling too, knowing that you’re chasing the feeling of what he has to offer under these restricting pants, and not being able to wait for it. 

“Babe–” Jake mumbles around your nipple, trying to fumble his pants down but being unable to, considering you’re grinding on his lap right now. “Baby, let me get it out–”

It’s kind of insane how you could have gotten off from doing this, fully clothed, fully ready to do it. But, he’s right, and that deep register of his raspy voice only drives you to pull off of him as quickly as you can.

“Mm, sorry, you’re just so,” You start, falling off of his lap and spreading your legs open to show him the wet spot on your shorts. “Shit.” You stop yourself, seeing the way he freezes upon seeing how you display yourself to him. 

“Shit.” Jake follows up the same words, not even caring how stupid he must look trying to kick these death-grip skinny jeans off of him. 

You do stifle a little chuckle at that blatant show of arousal from him, and you do him a solid by removing your shorts too, heart pounding and face warm when you see his cock spring free once he finally gets the pants down his thighs. 

Honestly, you don’t even let him take them off in full before you’re shoving him back to your pillows and smiling at the way he gives you a kind of half-drowsy smirk. You watch his eyes stare you down and you can tell he likes what he sees probably about as much as you do. 

“You look so nice in my bed,” You start, crawling over him and grabbing his hand, putting it straight between your legs. “I’ve thought about you every night.”

His eyes roll back in a glorious show of how much of a loser he truly is. A loser for you in full right now, as he feels the wettest part of you yearn for him. His fingers slip and slide so easy, and he plays with your folds in an instant. Drenching his fingers to the point that his own leaking cock wishes you’d do the same for him. 

“Me too.” He says, unable to string together a full sentence. “All night.”

You tick your tongue and coo out at him, feeling the way his fingers are gentle, staring down at the way his cock flexes every few seconds. 

“What do you think about?” You ask now, crawling over his legs and leaning down to blow against his cock. You see it twitch and stand proudly at the feeling of your warm breath hitting it. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”

His fingers can no longer reach the wettest part of you with the way you’ve moved on him, but he doesn’t mind considering when he looks down, you’re smiling at him with his length inches from your face. He chews against his bottom lip at the image before slipping his fingers into his mouth, tasting what could be if you’d let him. 

“Nothing as good as this.” He manages to get out from around his fingers as he stares down at you, elated by how he would never let another man experience this from you. 

You smile, nodding at the way he doesn’t lie before you lightly tap two fingers at the head of his cock, feeling the precum dribble with each tap enough that it’s almost dripping down his length. You focus on it only for a moment before you use the wet to coat his length in one long stroke. 

Another beautiful groan from him, fingers still wedged in his mouth as his eyes roll back again. Then, he’s rolling his head forward, looking down at how your hands grip him, and how your lips look so pretty when you kiss the underside of his length. God, it feels like he’s neglected himself despite jerking off every night to this exact image. Or rather, something that resembles this but could never feel as heavenly. 

And when you trail your lips down, kissing against his heavy and cum-filled sack, you feel his entire body flinch in sensitivity and a chuckled moan come from him. 

“Sorry–” he mumbles, reaching a hand down to brush against your cheek when you come back up to look at him. “No one has ever done that to m-”

“I’d do just about anything to you right now.” You cut him off, licking against the head of his cock and enveloping his entire length. 

He has no words, but so, so many thoughts. Would you really? Anything? Goddamn, he would do anything to you too. Not just right now, but any time. All you’d need to do is ask. All you’d need to do is push him down and sit on him. 

And it’s kind of cute really, how he speaks with his body alone. The way his hands grip anything he can get ahold of when you continue to take his cock further and further into your mouth. Up until the size of it is restricting your airways and he’s stuttering against the sheets with a death grip.

He could come right now if he isn’t careful, and he does his best to hold off. 

His grip stays tight against your sheets when you breathe through your nose and flex your tongue against the underside of his cock, the weight of his length making it nearly impossible to do. It’s great, actually, how he doesn’t fuck into your throat and render you unable to utilize your own skills to please him. 

The sweet, salty flavor of his precum is constant until you take him in too deep to taste it, and when you flick your eyes up, you can see that he’s amazed by how you do this. Part of you wonders if he’s ever been deepthroated at all, with the way he appears to breathe through it and tries to feel each clench of your throat.

God, your mouth is so tight around him too. So warm, tight, and perfect for him. With the way your lips stretch and your cheeks hollow out. He can’t bear to stare at you for too long when you’re doing this. Already he’s trying to hold in moans far too loud, already he knows that one right clench around him, he’s not going to last. 

And you love it. Quite literally, you are in love with the way he seems to struggle through the pleasure. So blatant and unashamed of how much he likes what you’re doing. Because honestly? Most men act like you could do more, most act as if you’ll never give the best head of their life.

Jake though? He makes you feel like you’re the only person who could render him a whimpering mess. Part of you wonders if he even knows how loud he’s already being. With his rasps and grunts, with his higher pitched sounds coming from his chest and forcing their way out of his wet and bitten lips. 

He really looks like this is where he belongs. Against your pillows, in your bed, cock out, eyes rolled back, hair cute and fluffed out against your pillows. 

You pull back slightly when your eyes threaten to become too wet to see him, easing the tension in your throat with each inch of his length that leaves you. And when you fully pull off of him with a pretty and wet little “pop!” sound, he regains all of his composure and stares right at you. 

“Holy fuck–” He says with a heaving breath. 

“Jake,” You start, clearing your throat before using your hand to gently jerk him off, lips landing against the head of his cock again as you speak. “You kind of act like a virgin, which is funny considering all of the things you said to me before.”

You smile as you say the words, precum still coating your lips.

He lends you a crooked smile, feeling entirely like himself in this moment and not at all ashamed of his lack of experience. He would think that comment would scare him, like he’s doing bad or something. But the way your hand works his cock is just enough to tell him that you love it. 

“‘M not a virgin.” He says, voice uneven. “But I can’t say I’ve fucked that many girls.”

That elates you. The fact that he’s so real about it. The idea that he held off with you for a reason that didn’t involve disinterest. It’s almost like he prefers sex to mean something, which is a long forgotten concept to you and anyone else in your life it seems. 

“That’s hot.” You comment, halting your hand at the base of his cock before releasing it entirely and crawling further up to straddle him right where you want him.

If he wasn’t already gone for you, he is now. He can feel the warmth of your pussy sit against his already sensitive and needy cock and it takes everything in him not to groan out. 

And well, he appears to have zero control of his volume because he does, in fact, groan out. 

Loud enough to probably alert the person who he wishes didn’t exist right now. 

You moan back at his desperate action, wiggling your hips as if to dig his cock into your thigh, smearing the mess seeping through your panties onto him. 

“All this time, I thought about how you could hold me down,” You start, noting how he is nothing like how you imagined he would be. “How you could fuck me hard, and deep,” You slide forward and back a little quicker now, letting the head of his cock bump your clit. “How you could ruin me if you wanted to.”

You’re the one ruining him though. You both know it. 

“It looks like I was wrong about those thoughts though, wasn’t I?” You smile at his panic when he shoots his eyes open. 

“No!” Jake half-moans, louder than he meant to once again. “I can do that.”

You wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the fact that he definitely tries, lifting from your pillows and tipping you back onto your mattress. Before you even know it, your panties are off of you and he’s grabbing your legs, moving them to wrap around his waist.

Then he just stares at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips.

“I can do anything you want.” He continues, snaking his hands under your ass just to lift your lower half against the underside of his cock. “You want me to hold you down? Fuck you hard?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling up at him with a pleased sound at how he shifts who he is entirely for you. Thirty seconds ago you wouldn’t have expected him to change up like this, and it’s only lends you more to like about him. 

“Hold onto me, then.” He gives a gentle warning, wishing he could have like, ate you out first or something, but he’s too far gone now to imagine doing anything other than what you ask of him. He can get his head between your thighs another time, yes. He can lick you clean, making sure you know how much he wants you. 

And you do, you hold onto him, legs around his waist, hands in his hair, feeling the weight of his cock sit against your wet folds while his hands hold you in place.

And it’s like, woah. Okay, you already experienced how big he is but feeling it there is another thing. He’s quick to stuff your blanket up under you to keep you lifted, and then he’s immediately using one free hand to press down on your stomach, and the other holding his cock as he slides it himself through your folds.

He stares down at the way his length looks between your heat, so wet and glistening from the mix of arousal the two of you drip out. You wish you could see it too, with the way he wets his lips and keeps the bottom one caught between his teeth. 

And when you moan, his eyes flick up to your face, so innocent looking at this moment despite your kissed lips and heaving breath. Tits on full display, pussy spread out around his cock, god. He’s in heaven. He can most definitely hold you down and fuck you deep, it’s like he was born to do it, if he’s being honest. 

And then, in one movement, he pushes his cock down with his thumb and slides in, bottoming out in one motion while keeping his eyes on your face. With the way your jaw is slack, and your eyes close in pleasure. 

He does much the same, holding his breath as he feels the way your soft walls hug around him, strangling his length in a way he truly needed. You’re so tight, god, so, so, so wet. At this point, he’s not even doing it because you are asking him to, he’s doing it because he can’t help it. His body loses composure the second he bottoms out and feels the entirety of how much this pussy wants him. 

Jake doesn’t let you adjust, hell, barely even lets himself adjust before there's an echo of his thighs meeting the flesh of your ass. Consistent, deep, hard. Just like you wanted. 

Just like he needed.

And it gets to the point where Jake is burying himself so deep, that you can barely make out words. Moaning his name in hiccups, trying to say something but always stopping short of it. 

“J-Ja-J.” You hiccup through each thrust, waiting for him to kiss you, wanting him to kiss you, wanting him to ruin you like you asked, like he promised.

And when Jake is out of breath, listening to that pretty little stuttered mantra of his name, he does lean down to kiss you. Tongue immediately licking against yours to the point that he swears he feels little dribbles of desperate saliva leave the corners of his mouth.

All of it is hot breath, wet, wet, fucking wet. All over. 

His hips move faster, and he drives his cock in deeper, his moans only come out louder with each stutter of his name, and honestly? The death grip your legs have on him, keeping him from pulling out of you too far? He has no idea how he’s lasted this long already, but he loves himself a little more knowing that he’s making you feel good. 

“Yeah,” He grunts out, pulling one hand back to hold your leg tightly against him, and the other falling on his elbow above your head. He makes direct eye contact with you here, just inches from your face as he speaks with full confidence. “Say my name,” He says almost defiantly. Hoping Jay hears it and knows how good he can be for you. “I’ve been dying to hear you say it like this.” 

His thrusts somehow remain consistent as you shoot your hand to your clit, rubbing harshly at his words. You give him exactly what he wants, moaning his name in full against his lips with a desperate and bitten kiss from you, all while your pussy practically strangles the base of his cock with each deep thrust. 

His moan sounds relieved when you repeat his name, he swallows your hiccups up, proud that despite how fucking bad he probably is at fucking, you seem to love it. 

And when you rub against your clit just right, feeling his abdomen press your fingers against it harder, you continue his name. 

Breathing it out in a gasp before your orgasm hits you and he somehow manages to fuck you straight through it. His stuttered name coming out with each slam, never quite able to moan it in full again once you’re seeing stars. 

And when your ears pop, and your eyes feel tired, you look at him.

You feel him.

His cock moving desperately in and out of you, the sweat on his brow proving to you how much he wanted to do this to you and for you. 

He wants it so bad.

He wants you so bad. 

You reach up, feeling the sweat in his hairline when you run your fingers through the mess of hair on his head and push his face down. Your legs fall from around him, and instantly he’s moaning. 

“You don’t need to pull out.”

“Fuck–” He stutters, hips meeting your thighs once more before you feel him release strings of thick cum in you. Amazed by that single sentence, half-not even realizing a condom was nowhere in sight anyway. He doesn’t know if he could have pulled out to begin with but the words of encouragement shoot his orgasm straight through him. 

And the way he moans through it with uneven breaths? Perfect. He sounds perfect. The way saliva dribbles from the sides of his mouth as his lips desperately kiss against your neck and shoulders? More perfect. 

The way he pulls back to look at you after the fact? Twitching inside of you, unmoving, and not pulling out? God.

The two of you lay like this for a while, his cum bubbling out of you from around his sensitive and softened length by the time he finally decides to pull out. Which saddens him a little bit because he hates that he can’t have his cock in you at all times, but still.

And then the panic washes over him. There’s no fucking way Jay doesn’t know what he just did, and the fact that there were no harsh knocks on your door? That’s even more scary. 

His heart rate picks up instantly, but you somehow calm him as you continue running your hands through his hair, down to the back of his neck and scratching.

It’s like he mewls at the feeling, nuzzling against you as close as he can get before sighing. 

“Jay is going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin with closed eyes. 

You hum out a small chuckle, feeling the sticky mess between your legs and somehow not feeling as grossed out as you normally would by this. 

“Jongseong isn’t going to do shit.” You smile, shifting to sit up and feeling more cum drip out of you. “I actually can’t wait to see the look on his face when I drag you to shower with me.”

Jake panics internally but he can’t stop himself from smiling at you with a nod. 

And he does follow you into the bathroom. Straight past the bedroom of his glaring best friend with the wide open door. 

He pretends to not hear the way the door slams when the two of you get into the bathroom, and desperately begins thinking of a way to make this work out for the better. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay heard all of it. Every slap of a cock driving into you, every breath, moan, giggle, and every fucking dirty word the two of you shared.

He tries not to think of the way he slouched against his bedroom door, straining his ears to hear all of it too. He tries not to think of how his hand could never live up to whatever the fuck you were doing to Jake either. 

Time and time again he could get off to the thought of you, but each time it just becomes more and more unbearable to see you face to face after. This time? Having to hear you with someone else? Someone that he, himself, was supposed to trust? It’s the most unbearable, and it hurts him inside to know that you liked it. 

It isn’t fair that he was stuck, alone against his door, biting back moans of a situation he hated more than anything. His best friend was in there fucking the daylights out of the only girl Jay has ever wanted like this, and all he could do was fuck his fist and release a half-sobbed moan in his own silence over it?

Honestly, the orgasm hit him harder than he’s ever felt when he heard you moaning the name of his best friend. The stuttered breaths of Jake’s unfinished name sounded just like his name, and his brain went insane wondering if that’s what you’d sound like if his cock was pounding you. 

Would you stutter like that for him? Would you moan out his name in such a pretty way too? 

“Jay! Jay! Jay!” 

It replayed in his mind over and over again up until he saw the two of you in the hallway. Jake appeared to be ashamed to look at him, avoiding his gaze. 

Jay felt pathetic, angry, and entirely empty. Jake fucked up big time, betraying his trust just minutes after promising the opposite. There is so much shame within him right now, but none of it lives up to the fucking rage he feels towards Jake.

Never in his life has he ever felt so betrayed by not one person, but two. As if you knew you had such a hold on him to betray him at all, but still. It pisses him off more than anything that he still has to hear the two of you in the bathroom now, unashamed of what just happened behind your closed bedroom door like your parents aren’t just downstairs and probably aware of what their slut child was doing. 

He seethes for what feels like hours. All the way until Jake slinks out of your room after the parents went to bed, and into the night without a word to him. 

Days, even. As the sounds of you fucking Jake haunts him. 

What’s worse? Jake ignores his texts even when he’s being nice. Inviting him over for a “lesson”, begging him to come talk, saying he isn’t angry he just wants to know where the deal stands. He ignores him even on his payday, which arguably, Jay wasn’t going to pay him this time but as a bribe to get him to talk to him? Of course he texted him again.

And with the way you’re leaving every other night, Jay can tell it’s because you’re going to see him outside of his control. Likely because Jake suggested it, and no part of him feels thankful that he can’t hear what the two of you are up to behind his back.

He could rip his hair out at this point, when each family dinner feels empty and filled with disgust. Looking at you and wondering what it must have felt like for Jake to get between those thighs that seem to open for just any man that would lie to you. You eat quietly, sometimes shooting him a happy smile as if you can’t tell that he’s rotting in front of you over the fact that you’re happy with someone that isn’t him.

He can barely look at you when you’re home without the thoughts flooding his brain, rendering him jealous and resentful of everyone in his life whether they’re involved in this situation or not. He doesn’t hold back remarks each time you come back home either, bright eyes with a sex glow surrounding you.

“Out spreading your legs again, I take it?” or  “Can never get fucked enough, can you?”

He says them proudly to you, as if it’s any indication that he likes you far more than Jake ever could. But, to his dismay, you look happier and brush him off without a single furrowed brow or argument. You’ve been nicer, and you even walk with better posture now. 

He wishes you would argue with him about how untrue his words are, but you don’t. Which renders him only further angry because you don’t deny it, and that you agree with him. The issue is that Jake is on the receiving end of why those words are true.

Jay only wants them to be true if he is on the receiving end.

He wants you to spread your legs every other day for him. He wants you to never be fucked enough….by him. Not by Sunghoon. Not by fucking Jake.

And then? Three long and agonizing days after Jake’s payday, he finally texts.

Jake: we need to talk. 

Jay: come over then

Jake: no, i’m not coming back to your house until we talk. 

Jay: yours then?

Jake: yeah

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things were instantly awkward for Jay when he stepped through Jake’s door. It’s like he could tell you’ve been here recently by the feeling in the room alone. You always leave a room so alluring, so stupidly bright. 

Jake even appears happier, much like you do when he manages to take note of how you act back at home. 

Still, Jay doesn’t come too far into the house out of fear he may very well end up breaking things if it comes down to it. Instead, he stands in the doorway, shoes still tied on his feet, eyes still heavy with an exhaustion that only he can explain. 

“I know you know what’s been going on,” Jake starts, raising his hands in defense as if to try and save both his friendship and new relationship. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but it did, and I want to at least tell you that I’d treat her right.”

Jay stares forward, feeling his imaginary monarchy fall. His gaze goes straight through Jake and to the room behind him as he listens to him say words that any sibling would love to hear. All he can feel right now is buzzing, goosebumps on his skin threatening his sanity over the fact that he's always gotten everything he ever wanted, except for you. 

And he didn’t even want you like this until he knew he couldn’t have you.

“You promised me.” Jay starts with a harsh tone in his voice. “You went straight into her room and started fucking her? And now you have the audacity to ask me if you can date her?!” He bites out with angry brows, now clenching his fists.

Jake should have known better than to think he would be reasonable about this, given how he’s acted throughout the entire situation. Still, he’ll never stop thinking how fucking weird it is. How Jay is entirely protective over you despite consistently making sexual remarks, staring for a little too long, paying a stranger to date you just so you get away from your ex boyfriend. 

For all Jake knows, if it wasn’t for you confirming the situation, he could argue Jay would have made up lies about Sunghoon being a bad boyfriend too. 

Jay is jealous and Jake fucking sees it. 

“You literally paid me to date her. So what if I actually want to be with her now? Why is that such a bad thing?!” Jake retorts, throwing his hands up as if everything Jay is saying doesn’t make any sense to a normal person.

Which is true.

“I paid you to pretend, not to actually want her!” Jay raises his voice again, despite being in Jake’s home, despite being his long time childhood friend. Over all, trying to appear more threatening as a means to regain his control. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not okay with this.” Jake starts, much calmer than Jay. “What? You're gonna keep her from dating anyone ever again?”

Jay stands down at those words, knowing that if he could he would. Knowing that it must be incredibly telling to Jake, who isn’t as stupid as he acts.

“Why? You’re mad because you can’t be with her? And if you can’t, then no one can?” Jake adds with a smile. 

Immediately Jay storms up to him, fisting Jake’s shirt collar in his hand. 

“You think I want to be with trash like her?” He seethes out in a hot whisper, body telling on him in the way his words don’t match the defensive stance he takes. “I just don’t want you fucking my sister.”

“The deal is off, Jay.” Jake says in an even calmer tone, almost smiling. “Besides, I already fucked her.”

Jay intensely stares at him, anticipating the next word Jake says ending in a swift punch to the jaw.

“Multiple times.”

That breaks him. 

What he thought would end in a physical altercation appears to be ending in his own begging. His own self-pity at how sad he is for himself over this overtakes every thought in his head. He is desperate to get you, and desperate to make sure Jake leaves and never comes back.

“I’ll pay you double what i’ve already paid to break up with her.” He bribes. “Triple.”

“You can’t just keep her, she doesn’t want you.” Jake continues, pressing all of the buttons of a friend he used to trust with his life. “She doesn’t even like you.” 

Jay stands there, releasing the grip on Jake’s shirt and taking a step back. He knows Jake is right, and he hasn’t done anything to make you like him either, but still. Why does everyone else get parts of you that he can’t have? 

“Jake, you’re misunderstanding.” He tries to reply in a calmer voice. “I’ve known her since freshman year and I’ve watched her get hurt. I don’t want anyone around her.”

Jake laughs at him. And honestly? It shocks Jay with the way his friend has changed in just a matter of weeks. It’s the fact that it’s his fault. 

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” Jake continues to laugh. “You know me better than anyone and you don’t even want her to be with me? Of all people?”

Jay listens, trying to ignore how his truth has to come about another way. If Jake wants a fight over you, so be it.

“Sunghoon? Yeah, I get it but, the fact that you won’t even let me be with her? When is it what she wants?” 

“Break up with her, this is my final warning.” Jay dead-pans.

“Or what?”

Jay stands there, directly in front of a friend he just threw away over a girl. Staring at him with such immense hate in his eyes that even Jake feels a shiver run down his spine.

He says nothing when he shoves past Jake and walks straight out the front door, only speaking before closing it with a “You have a week to break it off.”

Jake rolls his eyes at the words, shrugging at the situation despite knowing the sadness of losing a friend will hit sooner or later. Really though? Deep down, Jake knew that Jay had a thing for you after the way he’s been acting. 

And it’s like, Jake knew he was bad at talking to girls but at least he doesn’t call them sluts and whores, or make them think he would rather be run over by a fucking tank than to say anything nice to them. 

What’s worse is that he gets it. You’re entirely likable, lovable even, and it’s going to take a lot more than a couple of threats to pull Jake away from you. Likewise for Jay it seems. Step-siblings aside, there’s no way Jay didn’t have a crush on you before you became his step sister. Anyone would have a crush on you.

Still. That’s weird, and there’s nothing Jay can do to have you. With or without Jake, you’d never want him after the way he spoke to you. You’d never fuck family, nor would you ever be interested in a guy like him anyway.

At least with Jake’s false persona, he acted more like his true self than he meant to when he was around you. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week goes by and there is no word of Jake ending it with you. 

In fact, you’re still leaving every other night to see him, coming home with a little bounce in your step and a stupid fucking smile on your face. Jay can’t stand it anymore. 

He thought a week was him being nice. Giving Jake, who he still cares about, mind you, enough time to come to terms that this will never work if Jay is around. Once again though, Jake didn’t listen. The once lost and intelligent guy now appears to know exactly what he wants in life and it’s so fucked up to Jay that it just so happens to be his girl. 

A girl that isn’t really even his, and the only ownership he has over you is a title that makes him want to gag.

Step-sister.

Jay has come to terms by now that he is willing to end his longest friendship over you. He is willing to defy his own moral standards for you. He is willing to love you, touch you, and be anything you need. The only issue is the fact that he’s already fucked it up for himself.

Jake was right in saying you don’t even like him. Not as a friend, not as a step-brother, and certainly not as a boyfriend. It truly is his own fault too, but things can change. 

And they will change. 

“Why do you act like Jake is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Jay asks, leaning against the frame of your bedroom door with his arms crossed. 

“Oh, am I?” You look down shyly, smiling because you can’t stop. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Jay lends a short nod and a smile to himself, feeling more and more calm as the seconds pass and he steps into your room. 

You, on the other hand, are elated tonight solely because of the date Jake took you on just the day before. He was so sweet, and so nice. Even going as far as eating you out in his car simply because he couldn’t resist, and missed you too much in the twenty four hour span of not seeing you previously. 

You wish you could talk about it with Jay, you wish you could thank him for bringing Jake into your life and let whatever fucked-up relationship you have with him die so that it can be replaced with something more pleasant. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You say meekly as he enters and wanders around your room, staring at several of Jake’s shirts hanging in your closet. 

“Hm?” Jay responds off handedly, reaching into the closet to feel one of your soft t-shirts. 

“Thank you for letting me meet Jake. I was shocked that day you invited me to eat with you guys, so I assumed it was to help with the whole Sunghoon situation. It did help, you know?” You smile fondly, thinking of your boyfriend and how nice he looks when he’s holding your hand.

“Ah–” Jay turns to look at you, letting one of your soft shirts fall from a hanger so that he can run his fingers through his hair with a stressed look up at your ceiling. 

You watch as he takes in a deep sigh before hanging his head.

“Listen, I have something to tell you about Jake.” He finally says, walking to your door and closing it before sitting on your bed and looking at you with a serious expression. 

“What is it?” You tilt your head at him.

He watches your face of confusion, seeing how heavy the feelings are that you’ve managed to grow for a man you were never meant to have feelings for. The way you swallow around a lump in your throat shows him that you’re going to listen to him, and possibly believe him.

For the first time, Jay isn’t going to be lying to you about Jake either.

“Jake is only dating you for the money I give to him every month.” Jay admits, knowing you’re about to bombard him with questions as to why he’s paying Jake to do it. 

“What?” You question again, dead-pan staring at him.

“I paid him to date you because I trusted him not to be like Sunghoon, and you seemed really hurt by what happened.”

“What?!” You echo yourself, furrowing your brows at Jay and the way it’s the first time he’s ever looked at you in such a soft way. “How much?!” 

“Two hundred a month. I dropped off his last payment last Sunday.” He lies.

You pause, reminding yourself that just the Saturday before he was holding you close to him on his couch, telling you all sorts of nice things that made your heart double in size. 

“He only learned to play guitar because we thought it would be your type. Jake is more of a loser than I am. If you had met him just a day earlier, you wouldn’t have looked at him twice.”

You remain silent, listening to all of this fucked up information.

“Here pretty soon, he’s supposed to break up with you.” 

And now your face is hot, and your eyes are burning. All of those words Jake said to you felt entirely genuine. The way he kissed you, touched you, and even the way he looked at you felt so real and electrifying. 

There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe a word Jay is saying, but there’s also a part of you that wonders how much of it is true. You’ve seen Jake’s room and his selection of monotone and earth tone clothing that you’ve never seen him wear before. 

“I don’t believe you.” You say, crossing your arms, looking away from Jay, then sniffling. “It would be so fucked up if you really paid some guy to pretend he liked me.” 

Jay shakes his head in mock sadness for you.

“I set rules, you know? He wasn’t supposed to let it get so bad. He wasn’t supposed to sleep with you or even kiss you, I know that he did though.” Jay says, reaching a hand out to yours. “I keep seeing how happy you look and can’t stand that he’s doing this to you. I just wanted to help.”

You blink up at Jay. 

“Why did you care so much to help me get over Sunghoon? So much that you’d pay Jake to do this?”

“Because I didn’t want to see you be taken advantage of. I see that it was a bad idea now though, because Jake definitely took advantage of you when he could.” He looks down, still in mock sorrow for you. “I wanted to punch him so bad when I paid him last time, with his stupid shit eating grin like he’s won the lottery or something.”

“Do you–” You pause, trying to process the information. “have proof?”

Jay nods, pulling up the few text messages he and Jake have sent about the situation. 

Jay: do you think she fell for it? you completely changed vibes bro

Jake: yeah for sure i got a date tomorrow with her

Jay: if i knew it would be this easy i wouldn’t be paying you so much

Jake: money AND a girl? best deal ever.

Right then and there, upon reading those texts, the crying really does start. You question your ability to read feelings, body language, and words. You really thought Jake meant everything he said, and over all you’re just learning that…well, he’s a great liar.

“I know what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to make it right.” Jay soothes, scooting closer to you and hugging you against his chest. “I’m here whether you’re mad at me or not.”

You shove him away from you initially, but he uses his strength against you to hold you against him tightly. It’s the first time Jay has ever hugged you, the first time he’s ever comforted you while simultaneously being the cause of your shattered heart right now. 

“Why are you like this?” You ask in a truly pathetic voice, raspy and full of overwhelming emotion that you don’t know what to do with. “Why did you have to do that?” 

Jay takes in a deep breath, readying himself for whatever reaction you could possibly give to his next, very carefully thought out words. 

“Because I’ve liked you since freshman year, and now you’re my sister.” He says in a sweet whisper against the top of your head. “Because you never noticed me before, and you barely do now, but I wanted to help your situation somehow without making it weird.”

He feels you cry harder against him now, your hands gripping his shirt without intention as you try and work through the even bigger flood of information now. It’s true that you didn’t notice Jay too much, and he never indicated any type of feeling for you. He could have been your type, if he had made an attempt to get to know you, but he never did. He became your step-brother instead. One who would do nothing but ridicule you and pay men to fuck you, apparently. 

And as you cry, all you can do is raise that same gripping hand and land it harshly against his chest in a punch that feels weak to him. Over and over again, and he just takes it. Sitting there hugging you against him in a way that keeps your abuse weak and pathetic as you release the emotion on him. 

“I would have been able to do more for you if it wasn’t for Jake taking advantage of my own weakness.” Jay now says, trying to land the final nail in Jake’s coffin for you. “In some way, I think I would have made you happier.”

Your attempts to hit the anger out of you fall short with each passing moment as your fingers find purchase back in his shirt, and the feeling of being enveloped by an apology overtakes you in full.

You can taste your tears against his shirt, feeling sorry for yourself for dampening him like this. Feeling sorry that he likes you and knowing you don’t like him back. Feeling sorry that the only person you’ve ever felt strongly for like this, never felt a thing back for you. 

You’re worth two hundred dollars to both of them. 

And when you pull back, feeling Jay allow you to pull away, you just stare at him with an empty and broken expression. 

Jay can’t help but think you look even prettier with a broken heart. Mostly because he knows he’s the only person here who can fix it for you. He knows exactly what’s going through his mind when he leans forward and kisses you without hesitation. 

You are shocked by the action, feeling unfamiliar lips on yours for just a moment before you’re shoving him back with a grimace.

“What the fuck?!” You yelp, baffled and entirely disgusted. 

Jay says nothing as he stares at you as if he’s lost his mind. His mouth is slack when he looks at you and it’s a face that very nearly scares you. Especially when he takes your face in both of his hands and does it again.

A harsher kiss, with him holding you there against his lips, running his hands down to keep your body from pushing him away again. 

“Let me make it better.” He pleads in a desperate whisper between his forced kisses. “Just this once.”

You’re not sure what’s happening right now, as you sit stiffly in his grasp, feeling him plead and kiss against you like a mad man. Wondering why you’re not fighting after hearing his broken voice. Wondering if he feels just as broken as you do right now. 

This is your sibling by marriage, trying to give you something that he should not be giving you. Indulging you in truth, too much truth. And maybe you’re going a little crazy too, because you just let him.

And you let him, and let him, until he’s releasing his grip on your body forcing you to stay close to him, and gently caressing your face through his one sided kisses. 

“Please.” He whispers just against your lips, pulling back a few inches to look at you. 

And when you look at him this time, it feels raw. That’s the only way you can describe this situation of immense loss inside of you. Forced away from someone while being totally suffocated by another who only seemed to want to hurt you before all of this. 

“Jongseong, no.” You warn, not entirely understanding why you don’t fully agree with your own words right now.

Maybe it’s because you want to be wanted, or needed, or loved at this moment. 

“Don’t call me that.” He whispers, leaning forward again, kissing you on the corner of your mouth. “Why won’t you let me try?” 

You take in a deep breath, wondering the same thing.

Because he’s your brother?

Because he paid Jake to break you more than Sunghoon ever has?

Because you want to let him try, solely to numb yourself from everything else for the night?

“I–” You start, staring forward and straight through him. “I don’t know.”

He smiles, spreading his legs wide beside you to adjust himself solely because he got to feel your lips on his. His hands stay against your face as he looks at you through this, and notes only slightly the way you reach your hands up to grip his biceps. 

“You don’t?” He asks. “Why do you throw yourself at everyone but me then?”

Those are words that should hurt you more than he already has, but they don’t. He’s not wrong. If you were more careful of the people you lend your body to for pleasure, maybe you wouldn’t continue to get hurt. Maybe everything he’s done really has taught you how to pick and choose better people.

Sunghoon, Jake, and now him. 

Now him.

It feels so final, like a last hurrah of hating yourself before you decide to never let another man into your heart again. You won’t date Jay, you won’t even think of him as someone you could be with solely due to the circumstances.

But for some reason, there is something you will do and that happens to be living up to all of those insults he threw at you before. Dumb, whore, slut. 

And you’ll do those things solely to make yourself feel better right now. Sex isn’t healing but when a person appears to want you this badly, it kind of is in its own way. A reminder that at least you’re wanted on some level, especially when you’re running circles in your head over what it could be that you keep doing wrong. 

This time, Jay is shocked when you’re the one who leans forward, your hands falling from his biceps straight to his hands over your face. You cry when you kiss him, feeling utterly insane that you’re doing this, not knowing why you’re going to keep pushing, and absolutely ignoring that you’ll regret it. 

“If you want to fuck me so bad, just do it then.” You say, more as an insult to him, yourself, and the entire situation. 

What’s worse is, you said that so Jay would pull back and come back to his senses. Anyone who hears those words should know that it’s an all or nothing question. Any decent person, any selfless person would deny fucking you in this state. 

And while you want him to fuck you at this point, just to prove how badly he’s wanted to, you equally wanted him to just be here for you in the way he was supposed to.

Jay doesn’t pick up on the cue though, and instead jumps right in. Kissing you back and pulling you down with him against your mattress. 

The bed feels less pretty with Jay lying in it with you, but his lips work better than Jake’s did the first time he kissed you so messily. You don’t mind only because you don’t care about a single outcome at this point. 

Everything bad that could happen to you has already happened. 

Jay wants you to like it though. He wants you to like everything about him. Even the aspects about himself that he can’t stand. And he kisses you in a way to try and force this outcome. 

Jake is still in the front of his mind though, as he takes his girl back on the same bed where Jake presumably took you away to begin with. 

And you’re so pretty too, with your tear stained cheeks kissing him in an angry way. Jay couldn’t be happier that you’ll take this out on him. He deserves it, doesn’t he? To be hated? Hated enough to be kissed by you? It’s wonderful, really. 

He stays like this with you for as long as he can, the fear of it stopping fizzling out with each passing minute that you only kiss harder, harder, harder. Up until he can’t stand the feeling of his cock in his pants, up until he can’t help but feel you up, relishing in your hot skin and the way you still shiver probably through the chill in your heart right now. 

His hand lands under your shirt, pulling your bra down just so he can eagerly circle his fingers around one of your nipples. Thinking so hard about the tits he’s wanted to see bare for so long, feeling it perk up against his finger in reaction. 

He throbs at it, even if you won’t make eye contact with him between kisses. Even if you kiss him like you mean it but clearly don’t. He’s taking what he can get, taking what you’ll give to him. 

“I heard you guys, you know.” Jay says, pinching your nipple before rolling on top of you just to dig his length against your leg. “You seemed so happy to gag on him, why aren’t you like that for me?”

You ignore his words, trying not to moan at the thickness you feel in his pants. Never once have you thought about what Jay could be packing, but it’s…bigger than you probably would have expected. Feeling it against you breaks that final barrier in your brain keeping you from being entirely turned on by the lack of morals you’re sharing with him.

This is the first thing you’ve ever shared with Jay outside of an argument. 

“Can you stop talking?” You ask in a huff, breath hitching when he adjusts his hips between your legs and rubs himself against the center of your heat. “It’s pissing me off.”

“Mm, I bet.” He smiles, using both hands to push your shirt and bra up to your collarbones, revealing your chest to him. He grabs both of them without hesitation, and studies the way they fit in his hand. “I’m trying to fix this right now though.” He nods to himself, smirking the same smirk he always gives you when he’s being an asshole and squeezing the tit that rests above your heart. 

You’re angry that you like it. You enjoy the way he grips tighter, and ruts himself harsher against you. Almost more desperately than Jake did. Rougher, so much rougher. 

“You can’t fix what’s happened.” You groan out, annoyed and equally as aroused. “So, stop trying.”

“Getting you wet can fix it.” He says, leaning back and placing both hands on your knees, spreading your legs wide. He stares at you and the dismay on your face, then down between your legs. It doesn’t take much convincing from him though, to have you bucking your hips up against your own will. 

You never knew Jay could be so confident or dirty. 

And when he backs up just to take off your bottoms in one swift motion, you don’t even hide your face. Because you don’t care what you look like right now, or what he sees. You’re already past the boundary and at this point your body wants what it wants. 

Quite frankly, you hope he fucks the morals right out of you. You hope he fucks the emotion out of you, and renders you a shell of a person that can no longer feel pain in any capacity. 

“Well, well, well.” Jay gloats as he gets back between your legs, noting how you’re already wet. Not entirely wet, but definitely turned on. “Can’t believe you’re wet for your own brother.” 

You roll your eyes, wishing he’d stop focusing on that. You’re barely related. Just by marriage, anyway. 

“Stop talking.” You argue. 

And, well, for the first time he listens to you. 

If you knew you could shut him up by putting a pussy in his mouth, perhaps you would have done this sooner. Then again, you likely wouldn’t have considered it before now. 

Anything he could say to you right now is muffled, and all you can hear are groans and grunts each time he tries to lick straight into you. Through you almost. His tongue is just as harsh as everything else, neglecting your clit and going straight for what he wants in his mouth. 

He licks and laps at you without shame, knees planted on the floor and fingers spreading you open against his lips. His eyes stay open though, staring up at you, only blinking slowly when he gets a taste of something particularly sweet. 

You try not to reach down like you always seem to do for Jake. You really do try, but it’s like an instinct thing, you guess. You find your fingers in his hair, gripping the strands much harsher than you usually would this time. 

If he’s rough, you can be rough too, right? 

You drag him up by his hair, listening to his shameless moan of pleasure at how you treat him. You plant his face directly against your clit, and he’s just as harsh with his tongue against it. Flicking it, swirling his tongue around it, side to side, up and down, before he circles his lips around it and sucks with another one of his embarrassingly sexy moans. 

Something about him liking this to the full extent is so good. It’s so wrong, but it’s so, so, fucking good. 

And as you hold him there, his fingers slide into you as if he knows exactly how to do it. You’re shocked that he does, actually. With someone so invisible to the world to anyone but himself, he must have gotten plenty of practice in with all of the snooty book-smart girls back on campus. 

You hate to admit that they’re kind of lucky. Jay is clean with it. Goes straight for the pleasure spots and doesn’t fuck around at all. Sunghoon was always messy with his fingers, smiling and playing with you and the way you’d whine for him to hit a particular spot again. Jake, on the other hand, would never know where to land his fingers, but he’d find it and keep hitting it when you’d make that one specific sound. 

Jay knows where it is, and he knows he does. 

You know he does.

To the point that you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips. Almost as shameless as he is, avoiding the fact that you do like this. You do like the entire situation that surrounds it. After all, you’d never get fucked like this is it wasn’t from Jay, right? If he didn’t go off and set you up for failure first, right? 

Fuck Jay.

Quite literally. Fuck him for being so good at ruining everyone. 

“I hate you.” You whisper between moans, already feeling the tears bubble up again. You hate him so much, and you hate everything about how he really could have been something had he tried before. 

You hate that it feels so good.

You hate that he chuckles at your words, vibrating his voice against your clit and making you shiver.

You can’t stand that he can fit three fingers into you with ease, proving how wet you are for him. 

And even more do you hate the way he pulls back, staring up at you as he quickens his fingers, hitting that same spot, over and over again with a filthy smirk on his glistening lips. 

“Hate me all you want,” He says in a smooth voice, listening to the sounds of how wet you are gushing out and against his palm. “You seem to love what I can do for you.”

You groan out again, from deep in your chest as you try to close your legs around him, as if to push him out of you but you can feel the way he easily keeps one of your legs spread out and open, preventing the act. 

And as he listens to the sounds of your body, it all clicks in his head. It’s no wonder Jake wanted to be with you so bad. The taste of you, the smell, the sounds your body emits to be fucked? He wouldn’t let anyone take you from him. Sunghoon too, no wonder he kept coming back. That girl he always fucks during the summers surely doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

No one could look so sweet and sound so arousing like this but you. Not a single other person in this world could have his cock straining against his pants like this over the act of giving head. If anything, Jay hates giving head. But you’re clean.

You taste sweet. 

He could eat you out for days. 

“God, just fucking look at you.” He groans to himself when he stares at his three fingers plunging into you, hitting that same spot since he started. 

He can feel the squeeze of your pussy around his fingers each time he drives them in deep, pushing them together. And you only squeeze more and more as he does it. He knows exactly what this means. 

“Already?” He asks snidely. “Just from my fingers?”

You stay silent only because you couldn’t speak if you wanted to. Never has a man assaulted your g-spot so well before, and you’ve felt it building up this entire time. Your whole body feels weak, your eyes feel fogged over, your brain is going numb as you relish in the pleasure rather than the reality just outside of it. 

“Fuck, Jay.” You manage to get out, not even shocked that you just said his name in regards to this situation.

Nothing shocks you anymore.

And it’s like music to his ears to hear you sing his name in pleasure. It’s not a stutter of Jake’s name this time. It’s really his name, and he feels so fucking elated by it. He fucks his fingers in faster through the eagerness of hearing you willingly say that to him. He even dips down, his shoulders keeping your legs open just so he can lick around the same hole his fingers are stretching out, and right there is where he wills for you to come.

He wants to feel it drip against his tongue, he wants his fingers and face to be fucking soaked in you and all of that hate you claim you have for him. 

It’s not a shocker to him that you do, either. He knows how to touch a pussy, you’re not a puzzle for him. But at least your cum is sweeter than he’s ever tasted. He laps it up like a fucking dog, moaning through it as you hold your breath. Your legs shake, your cunt clenches, your clit throbs, and he’s the reason for all of it. 

He works you through it so well, to the point that you’re out of breath and looking at him as if he is your boyfriend. Only now do you wish that your mother didn’t have to go off and marry his dad. You could have easily dated this asshole just for the way he gives head and uses his fingers alone.

Yeah, maybe you are a slut. 

“Mm, I heard that.” He coos out, licking up the last of your orgasm before lifting and resting his head just below your belly button. “You moaned my name.” 

You’ve never seen him smile like this. His eyes have never looked so bright before. You’re mad that he looks attractive between your legs, with his lips dripping in your own arousal. You hate that you like it. 

“I did.” You say, leaving no room for him to respond. 

After all, he probably said that just to try and get a rise out of you. 

“You’re going to do it again, you know.” He responds anyway, now standing and reaching for the button on his pants. “And again.” 

You watch him, not wanting to believe that you’ll be moaning his name again tonight. Thinking that this is the end of it, though you should have known better. He’s going all the way. 

“Roll over.” He says now, almost demanding in a way that makes you immediately follow the direction.

You roll over perfectly for him, presenting an already fucked and pulsing hole for him to rub up and against. He actually has to blink up at the ceiling with a deep breath before really getting a good look at this angle. 

A perfect ass, perfect cunt, all wet and willing for him of all people. You’re right where you belong at this moment. Against your bed, with his cock out and ready to fuck you until you forget Jake ever existed. 

“Damn.” He comments, thumbing at your pussy lips and gripping himself with the other hand. “Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror like this?”

That’s a weird question, but yeah. 

Still, you don’t nod or answer. You just stuff your face into the very same pillow that Jake laid against the day you straddled him. If you breathe in hard enough, you can almost smell him on it. 

“I’m sure you have.” Jay answers for himself, now spreading your cheeks and getting a good look at both holes. 

Then, he leans forward, takes off his shirt, and slaps his cock against your swollen lips. Over and over again, watching the strings of your previous orgasm connect him to you. He pushes, and pushes, rubbing it between your lips and relishing in the image of his cock against you.

Where it fucking belongs.

And then he’s releasing a string of saliva, letting it drop directly onto the head of his length before he pushes the tip in. 

God, he’s thick. Just the head alone feels so much bigger than you’ve had before and it’s a bit unfamiliar. Because, of fucking course it is. 

Still, he stays like that. Pushing his tip in, out, in, out. 

Over and over again, giving you small sighs from his throat at the feeling until you can’t fucking stand it anymore.

You’re the one who pushes back, slipping another inch of him into your tight and wet walls, gripping your sheets much the same way Jake did when you went down on him.

“Fuuuuck,” Jay moans out slowly, using both hands to spread your cheeks and get a good look at the way you’re the one who wants more. “Didn’t expect you to be this tight, baby.”

You ignore his words, knowing they’re more insulting than you need to hear right now. 

And then, you feel his hand move to the small of your back and push a perfect arch out of you, his other hand pushing forward to grip your tit. He slides all the way in this time, bottoming out before staying in place just to feel you adjust around him.

“Let me feel how tight you really are then,” He smiles from behind you, finger flicking your nipple and flexing his cock inside of you. “Squeeze it.” 

You clench on demand, not because he asked for it, but because the feeling of his fingers on your nipple forces you to do it. It’s a slight pleasure that always shoots straight to your pussy and you can’t fucking help the moan. You’ve always been weak to have your nipples played with, and Jake really indulges you in that. Jay is doing the same without even fucking knowing what it does to you. 

“Goddamn, I just know they’ll miss you.” Jay breaks out in a moan, boasting about having his cock in you and feeling the way your perfect cunt jerks it off for him. “Wouldn’t let anyone fuck this pussy again,” He continues to ramble to you, spilling out his filthy desires. “My pretty slut of a sister, giving it to me like this?”

You gasp when he finally moves, pulling out nearly all the way before stuffing you full again.

“Finally letting me see what all the hype was about?” He degrades, keeping his pace slow just to hear you give into his words with each moan. “I’ll give it to you, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You nod against your will, never realizing that maybe you like being called these names. Jay, once so quiet and stoic, now talking to you in a way you never could have imagined. You don’t know why it’s so hot. You won’t think too hard into it, nor will you ever bring this shit up again either. 

“Wouldn’t you?” He repeats, leaning down against your ear. “I’ll be the one to fuck you the way you need, won’t I?”

His hips pick up at that point, driving those long and languid strokes into you at a quicker pace, with so much ease and confidence that you almost find it hard to think he’s lying. Maybe the only person you shouldn’t be fucking really is the only one who could fuck you the way you need it. 

“Jay,” You hiccup against your pillows, trying to lift, but his hand only pushes you further down, keeping that perfect arch for him to hit your g-spot much like he did with his fingers. “Jay,” You try again, wanting to say something and not yet having the ability. 

“That’s right.” He encourages you through his own stifled grunt, putting all the force in his body behind his thrusts now. “Say it.” He continues, now moving the hand from your tit to your hair, forcing your head back and your arch to reach pure agony. 

God, that slight change in position nearly does him in. The way you gasp out and let him force you into a shape that only a gymnast could achieve. So flexible. So slutty. You’re perfect. 

“God, Just fucking say it again.” He groans, now releasing your hair and gripping your ass, forcing you to ride back on him, trying to memorize the way your pussy walls hug around him, trying to memorize the way you moan for him, the way you’re wet for him, the way he’s finally fucking you. 

“Jay–” You moan out, lifting on your arms yourself this time, ruining the arch but pleasing him all the same when you bounce back, to the point that he’s chuckling out his groans and biting his bottom lip to the point he may actually be bleeding. 

You are truly so unbelievable to him.

“So needy for dick.” He tuts, trying to keep his composure as he stares down at the scene of you riding against him. “Just gonna ride me like the filthy slut I always knew you were?” 

You hiccup, chasing the pleasure for yourself and you alone. Loving the numbness in your brain right now, and the way his cock pulses inside of you. You feel like you could burst with every color of emotion you’ve ever felt in your life, but you refrain. 

You bounce back harder, harder, harder, until your knees buckle and he slips out of you when you fall flat back onto your stomach. 

He thinks it’s cute though, in the way you fucked against him until you couldn’t anymore. Rendering your body a melted mess of a woman, where he can easily move you to roll over, and take you for all your worth. So he can fuck you better than anyone ever has, so he can remind you that while you’re dirty, and give yourself to just about anyone, you’re proud to have given it to him too. 

And as you lay there, staring up at him when he pushes your legs up to your chest, slipping right back into you with a pornographic moan of his own, you can’t help but see him as anyone other than Jay. 

He’s too attractive, he fucks too good. 

Except it is Jay. You’ve moaned his name. It’s his cock inside of you, he’s the reason you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

And goddamn, do you need it. 

You need it so much that your fingers leave marks against his shoulders as you try to hold onto him. All you can hear are his breaths of the words “Yes.” and “Mhm.” encouraging you to scratch him harder and deeper as he fucks into you.

He knows you feel good, mostly because of the way you finally make eye contact with him, and the way you look at him as if you want him to be the one fucking you right now over anyone else. 

“You really are just–” He starts, in awe at how pretty. “So fucking pretty.” He laughs this time, slamming his hips into you at a pace that forces small moans out of you with each pointed thrust. 

And you are shocked by his sudden kind words. This whole time you never could have guessed he had some weird little crush on you, and event through him fucking you, you couldn’t tell. But now he suddenly wants to say you’re pretty? 

You don’t get him. Nor do you even care to understand, because what he’s doing right now is enough to distract you from the inevitable situation that will follow. 

You remain silent save for the few moans you offer, trying to focus solely on the way his cock splits you open. And man, he really does fuck hard. Each slam into you feels like you’re seeing stars, to the point that you can feel your throat go dry from your slacked lips.

To the point your tits are squished under your legs painfully. 

To the fucking point that the saliva that does collect in your mouth only falls out of the corners of your mouth.

Jay is so quick to catch it too, leaning down and squishing your tits even more painfully as he licks up each dribble and revels in the warmth of your mouth. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, no. He likes seeing you cock-drunk for him too much.

You’re really letting him fuck you, and you’re really just letting him do whatever he wants? All it took was losing Jake as a friend? He’d do it over and over again just to experience this in all the different ways he could imagine. 

And as he thinks about it, with your pussy clenching him so tightly, he finally releases your legs and focuses on getting you off once more. He lands his fingers right between your legs, aggressively rubbing your clit in time with each of his breathless thrusts.

He’s out of breath by this point, sweating, and his hair is falling against his face only to stick to his forehead as he gives it to you the way you deserve. He wills it out of you, unsatisfied if he can’t get you to come at least twice on him.

Then, he encourages it. 

“Come on, baby–you’re close, right?” He grunts, already feeling dangerously close to his own orgasm. “Let me feel it,” He continues, staring straight into your eyes as if he’s telepathically forcing the orgasm out of you. And it works, he can feel the clench become suffocating around his length, forcing his own eager orgasm to the surface.

“Fuck, yeah, this is what you wanted.” He nods to himself frantically, fingers stuttering against your clit as he grinds his cock into you as deep as he can manage, holding it there as he witnesses your second orgasm along with his own. 

And both of you are whispering moans and strings of “fuck” and “goddamn” and even a few of his name. 

It only drove his orgasm to keep spurting out of him far past your own high. You feel it, and you watched him do it. He didn’t pull out, nor did he even ask if he needed to. He fills you to the brim and only keeps going, lending short thrusts as if to push the cum deeper and deeper into you until he’s entirely drained and spent. 

There, he pulls out without a single glance to you before he falls onto your bed, letting the mess on his cock seep into your sheets. That’s when he looks at you, out of breath and sparkly eyed as he pushes his hair out of his face. 

He fucking smiles at you. 

“Feel better?” He asks through deep breaths, reaching his hand up to your cheek and caressing it as if he actually cares.

“No.” You say numbly, feeling more hollow than you did before giving in to the temptation of a situation so fucked up. “I feel worse now.” 

“Aww,” He coos, lifting on his elbow to look at you. “You should’ve told me, I could have kept going.”

You stare at him, unsure of how you feel about any of this. Certainly not wanting it to happen again, but somehow knowing that it very well might. 

On your terms. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things are weird after Jay goes back to his room. He even cleaned you up a little bit using one of Jake’s old shirts with a chuckle. Even nodded to you, saying you should give it back to him unwashed when he inevitably breaks up with you. 

It made you cry the instant he finally left you alone. Which is so fucked up because you couldn’t even tell if you wanted to be alone or not. You almost wanted him to stay and pretend to love you for a little longer despite how wrong it was. 

At the end of the day though, Jay got what he wanted, and you’re still here having to clean up the trail of destruction he leaves behind him. 

The first thing you need to do is talk to Jake and lay it out straight to him. You want to tell him you know the truth, but most of all you want to ask why he did it. You want to know why he was so good at lying, and you deserve to know if any of it at all was real.

Because if he so much as nods his head that any of it was real, you’d never talk to Jay again. In fact, you’d never even look at him again. Especially after what just happened. Regardless of if you liked it, regardless of if Jake really did lie to you, you’d tell Jake everything.

Even if it makes you weird for letting Jay fuck you. Even if it’s weird that you fucked yourself against him.

You’d give everything to Jake if he’d accept it, and all you can do now is hope that somehow this situation is flipped on its head. 

Though there’s no way it could be. 

So, you lay there, alone in your bed wishing so much that you had someone to tell you that everything will be okay.

The last thing you needed was for that person to be fucking Sunghoon. 

The bright and unknowing text makes you cry harder, but you still respond to it. 

Because at the end of the day, you really are dumb. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Approaching Jake the next day felt like a whirlwind of emotion in your chest. Wondering if everything Jay said was true, wondering if it’s a lie. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hoped more for anything. For Jake to explain it all, for him to make promises and never break them. For him to still want you even if you don’t want yourself. 

He sees your face fall the second you look at him. You look nervous, scared, maybe even a bit broken. Which is insane compared to how you normally look at him, or act around him. He immediately panics too, especially when you don’t lift up and kiss him like usual.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting with you in his driveway after a silent drive over. “Things feel really weird and I’d rather you just tell me now because I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Jay told me everything.” You say, voice breaking throughout each word as you try your damndest to keep the tears from falling and making you look more pathetic than you already do. 

Jake is silent when he hears you say that. Reminding himself of the threats Jay threw at him last week, and wondering why he, himself, didn’t try to work things out further with Jay so the truth wouldn’t have come out this way. 

You probably hate him. After all, this whole relationship is based on a lie, but that doesn’t mean he lied about his feelings. Because he fucking meant everything. 

“Can we go inside to talk about it?” Jake asks gently, turning to you in a timid stance, seemingly curling in on himself. He reaches out to you, but you flinch away, not wanting to be touched by anyone. “Please?” 

You try to look at him but the second you do, the tears well up to the point you’d rather just go back home. You feel so tired. Your legs are sore from what Jay did with you, your heart is sore from what Jay told you, and your really, really, just want to sleep it all away. 

“Did he really pay you?” You ask through your tears, shifting closer and closer to the door just to create distance so you can breathe. 

“Please, just come inside.” Jake pleads, face flushed and heart buzzing at the fear of losing you. 

Angry over the fact that Jay would really stoop so low. 

“No.” You dead-pan, staring out the window. “I don’t want to go inside with you.”

That really shatters Jake. Entirely, actually, in the way you say it so confidently. He knows you deserve answers though, and you’re probably sick of people toying with you and your little frail heart strings. 

“Okay.” He says in a sigh, breathing out and pushing himself against the back of his driver’s seat before turning to look at you again. “He did pay me, but I need you to tell me what he said to you.”

You feel that last bit of hope dissolve with his confirmation. Why does it matter now what Jay said? It’s probably true, right?

It takes you a few minutes to regain composure, crying hot and salty tears next to a man on the verge of breaking someone’s arm over this. 

“He said he paid you to get me away from Sunghoon. That you lied the whole time, and that you were planning to break up with me soon.”

In that instance, Jake sees red. 

You can hear him breathe through his nose trying to control how badly he wants to raise his voice, not at you, but at Jay. Jay isn’t here though, no. Jay is at home, daydreaming about how he had you once and for all, and the way he set it up for Jake to have no room to wiggle again. 

You hear Jake call your name, trying to get you to look at him, but you can’t. You try to keep your eyes out the window, solely because you refuse to look at him if he can’t come up with some type of excuse for you to cling onto. 

Jake is good at lying though, you remind yourself. 

“I didn’t lie the whole time.” He starts, leaning himself back against the seat of his car and trying to think up a way to explain it that doesn’t make him look worse than he already does. “There’s no way I can explain this without it making me look bad but–” He stops, lifting in his seat and reaching for you, forcing you to look at him. “I only lied to you about wanting to start a band, everything else was real. I stopped taking his money. I tried to tell him the deal is off because I want to be with you, I–”

You look at him this time, letting the information sit right in the center of your brain.

“He got mad when I told him I didn’t want to break up. He offered to pay me triple to do it, then threatened me when I ignored him.” 

Maybe he’s not lying. 

“I’ve known him since childhood, I only took this deal because I thought he was genuinely just trying to get you away from some asshole. But when he didn’t even want me to be with you, I realized–”

“He fucked me, you know?” You say, shaking your head with a sad laugh. “I let him. I don’t know why but,  I did.” 

Jake freezes, his apologetic tone leaving his body in an instant.

“Are you fucking joking right now?” He asks, clenching his fists before loosening them to grab your face on both sides. “I need you to understand that I lied to you before I knew you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You stare forward in a numb way, feeling his warm hands caress your cheek like it doesn’t look like he wants to murder someone right now. 

“I don’t care if you slept with him. He’s the one who took advantage of you, not me.”

Only now do you think your tears dry up, choosing to believe Jake, choosing to hate Jay. Both with all of your being. 

“I need you to promise me not to tell anyone.” You say with a hollow voice. “I need you to make a lot of promises to me after this if you still want me.”

“Wha-” Jake is dumbfounded by your words. “If I still want you?!” He continues, that angry expression now turned at you. “You think I don’t want you now? Because my own best friend decided to become a piece of shit? This isn’t your fault.” 

You feel lighter at those words, your legs feel less sore, your heart starts beating at a pace that you can hear. 

“I let him though.” You say, trying to look away but feeling Jake hold your face and keep it from moving. “I believed him over you.”

Jake nods, softening his features in an instant when he lunges forward to kiss you. 

“Let’s just– let’s go inside, okay?”

You nod slowly, feeling slightly dissociated about all of this, especially with the way your entire life and moral status shattered within the span of a day and a half. 

And when Jake walks you inside, he sits with you on the couch with no indication of taking advantage of you. He looks just as hurt and confused as you do despite being Jay’s co-conspirator at one point.

“Sunghoon texted me.” You add to the whirlwind of mishaps. “I responded, but then he ghosted me again.”

Jake nods, listening to you before the room falls heavy and silent. The only comfort you feel comes from the warmth of his side pressed against yours. 

“I really hope you believe me when I say I meant all of what I’ve said to you. If I was really going to break up with you and do what he wanted me to do, I wouldn’t have slept with you.” 

You pause.

“You wouldn’t have?”

Jake shakes his head, proving to you time and time again that he is nothing but a man who cares about how other people feel. If he were to continue the deal and have no feelings for you by the end of it, you genuinely believe the blow would have hurt less because he would have made sure of it. 

“As much as I wanted to sleep with you from day one, I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t as attached to you as I was, or still am.”

Everything always feels better when Jake is the one talking, explaining, navigating. It’s like there’s nothing in the world he can’t do. A situation that felt like it couldn’t be fixed, suddenly feels mended and unbelievably stupid to you.

Jay is pathetic, and you gave in to the way he spoke to you, you gave him what he wanted, and what did he do? Smile because he got his way? Chuckle at your pain? Get off on it, even? God, you’re so stupid. 

“I believe you.” You finally breathe out, feeling an immense amount of weight lifting off of you. “What should we do, then?” 

“Piss him off? What? He doesn’t have anything on me after this anyway. He isn’t gonna run and tell your mom he slept with you or anything, I know for a fact his dad would beat his ass.” 

You chuckle, which feels morbidly uncanny to do right now, but you worried you’d never be able to crack a smile again. 

“So, what else then? What else did you lie to me about?” You ask, blinking away lighter tears now. 

“My gpa isn’t a 2.1.” He looks away, feeling bad that he lied to you at all. “It’s a 4.3.”

Oh. A smart boy. 

“I don’t usually paint my nails or wear ripped clothes, and I’m kind of a loser. I’ve only slept with like two girls before you.” He continues, looking at you with sparkling eyes. “I think I like this look on me though, so in a way I wasn’t even lying about my fashion sense past the first day, if I’m being honest.”

You smile, reminding yourself of how genuine he felt when you were with him back then. 

“Only two girls?” You pin point that quick statement he made. “I definitely wouldn’t have guessed.” You laugh sarcastically, sniffling a bit due to the sheer amount of crying you’ve been doing. 

Jake rolls his eyes at you. 

“Isn’t that proof enough to know I wouldn’t have done any of this with bad intentions?”

You smile, nodding, feeling like you’re worlds away from the pain you felt this morning. 

“I can’t believe he did that.” You finally let out, leaning closer to Jake and gripping onto his arm as if you need more balance. He lets you, feeling happy but still angry at the man who used to be his most beloved friend. 

“I’d like to say the same, but unfortunately I’m not shocked.” Jake shakes his head in pity a Jay, the guy who thinks he has it all. “He’s always been awful to other people, but never to me until now.”

You nod in agreement.

“I barely noticed him before my mom decided to marry his dad. It’s going to be hard going back to campus without you. He’s probably going to sabotage me more or something.” 

“Nah,” Jake shakes his head languidly. “4.3 GPA remember?” He continues, wrapping both arms around you and hugging. “I could transfer.”

And for some reason, you can’t help but feel excited knowing Jay may have had you once, but he will never have you again. You can’t wait to see the look on his face with Jake rolls up on campus, tainting any plan to get close to you. Even more? You know Sunghoon will be fuming to know he fucked around and found out.

After all, with your mother so lovey dovey with Jay’s dad, you could always spend the summer with Jake instead. Leaving Jay all alone, where he fucking belongs.

[taintedbenevolence]

"𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊." — YANDERE DAN HENG · IMBIBITOR LUNAE x FEMALE READER

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 — nsfw, short prompt 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — Not proofread! Use of profanities, non-consensual display of affection, obsessive & possessive behavior, (brief insinuations/mentions of) breeding kink. Dan Heng bites and marks reader. notation: any character participants are aged 18 and up. just for the record. I don't write sexual content for minors. please know that.

"I warned you," he huffed with mild irritation, as he thrusted himself inside of you for what seemed to be another, countless time. "Don't test me."

It was a bad enough idea when you had decided to argue, telling him that you'd find a way out, pointing out all the individual flaws of the manner in which he kept you trapped.

You'd begun to find solutions to your inescapable cage with this man, and it filled him with indignation, because he was entirely enraptured by you, and he refused to let you go. The very thought of you escaping was something he couldn't stand.

Being all alone was the last thing he needed. Break his arms and legs, but he'll cling to you like there's no one else he loves more and needs.

But seeing as how you'd decided to try and make an attempt to escape, he had zero intent to let you go now, more than ever. He pondered on just what he'd do to finally ingrain in your head somewhere that you were not going to be leaving – not anytime soon, nor any time later.

He was fine doing anything and everything to keep you by his side.

He'd pump you full of his seed, fill you up with his cum day and night, if it'd remind you that you had no one and no place to go but him and only him, that you were meant to stay with him forever. You would be his and his alone. Right?

He couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. With all that he's gone through, he at the very least deserves this. Wouldn't you agree?

Even so, you'd grown accustomed to the feel of your wrists bound by chains and cuffs above your head, your ankles tied down similarly whilst his tail coils around your waist, holding you down in place as he pushes in and out of you.

All nice and tied up, open and ready to take whatever was going to ruin you tonight. Would it be his fingers, his tongue, or his cock this time?

It was a chilling feeling that never failed to scare you—the feeling of helplessness that the Vidyadhara always managed to incite within you. It terrified you—to be taken advantage of in such way without being able to do anything about it.

Whether his carnal instincts were led by his previous incarnation or not, you had not the slightest idea, and frankly, you didn't really want to know either. 

All you could do was stay down while he fucked your brains out. ... You should probably watch your mouth the next time you're mad.

He drinks up your mewls, your abused, puffy hole unable to handle any more, but he licks your tears away, seemingly uncaring about how you beg him to stop. In his eyes, this is a punishment. If you keep acting like this, he really won't be able to be as kind as he wishes to be.

He doesn't mean to hurt you, and if you'd let him, oh how he'd worship your body without leaving a single mark, but he can't help himself if you keep behaving yourself like a brat. Please, can't you comply at the very least once? Would it kill you to show some acceptance for him?

Maybe.

And with how many times he has cum inside you, it upsets him that you really can't be impregnated by him. It'd delight him to see your belly swollen with his baby, but alas, it's only a fantasy.

A fantasy that he can't help but try to indulge in every time he fucks you raw.

Perhaps it's a little wrong of him to enjoy how much you cry whenever he does this to you. Just maybe. Maybe. Your cheeks all red, stained with tears, pretty puffed lips all swollen because of his rough, frequent kisses — it makes his heart swell.

He loves it. He loves you.

His face is nuzzled up in the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin, leaving numerous red marks that most likely will stay for a long time, if not forever, his mouth moving to leave more bruises upon your skin to claim you as his own.

"Dan Heng—" You manage to moan, almost choking on your tears, feeling him push in and out with a rapidity you cannot measure. "'ts too much, 'm cumming, please, a-ah—!"

It's all too much. It hurts too much. You feel too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure, it's all mixing up and your brain by now has been reduced to mush, your words a babbling mess as you whine, whine, and whine, to a point where you don't know how you have not lost your voice.

"Mine, mine, mine, please, s' good," you hear him murmur incoherently to you, the only sound left in the area being the wet squelch, the slapping sounds of skin against skin, your unstable cries, and your sobbing along with his sweet moans as he makes love to you. "P-please, don't leave, mgh-"

Any trace of his gentle demeanor was thrown away from the moment he had you pressed on the mattress. There was only a burning need left in him.

A need only you could satiate. An obsession that would never end.

And for what he's done to you, he knows you harbor hate, but he knows it makes you feel good, so why play pretend? ♡

---------------------------------------------------

A / N - It's a little shorter than usual, sorry </3 Writer's block has been absolutely demolishing me, but I'm hanging in there, I've got a few requests which I'm almost done with rn.. Sorry for the inactivity, I'll be hopefully posting more often if I'm not too burnt-out. Getting this one out so I can finally publish the Neuvi request..

[sea-lanterns]

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

synopsis: (slasher! AU) the killer that haunts your dreams is real.

featuring: rosaria

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom character, character is a serial killer, mentions of blood, mentions of gore but nothing like that happens, rosaria has knives, dark humor, reader is a virg.in, slight degradation, knife play, predator and prey ki.nk, cunnilin.gus (reader recieving), biting, reader gets nicked accidentally, may be ooc.

art credits: tomie

Perhaps it was the paranoia that was gnawing at your chest, but you felt as if someone was watching you from the dark corners of your room ever since you got into bed. For the past few nights or so, your dreams have been haunted by the same, shadowy woman that would chase you down in various parts of your town, waking you up just before she could get close enough to get her hands on you. Every night you would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding with adrenaline as everything these dreams did made you feel as if you were living it in reality. You hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while, the bags under your eyes prominent and worrying everyone you knew around you. 

Get therapy perhaps? No, no matter what everyone suggested, you knew this was more than simple nightmares and hallucinations. The woman felt real, she is real. The way she would hunt you down with a looming prescience, her tired smile haunting your visions while she dragged her blade-like gloves across the wall, emitting a painful screeching noise that would play on repeat whenever you started feeling anxious. This wasn’t good, you needed this to stop and you needed it to stop now. 

“I’m going insane…” you mumbled to yourself, laughing deliriously from the lack of sleep and staring at the ceiling of your room. Oh goodness, you were tired. You needed sleep but you knew that if you fell into dreamland, that woman would appear again and try to kill you. Every touch, every breath, she drew closer in your sleep, taunting you to close your eyes and let her ravish you in your dreams. 

“I can’t…” your eyes felt heavy, her smile a taunting reminder for you to close your eyes. “I…”

Close your eyes…

It felt as if she were whispering it into your ear, your consciousness on the edge of falling towards her. You wondered if you could do something about this, something that could stop her from tormenting you with her prescience. But alas, you found yourself feeling heavy, the ghostly hands caressing your cheek and drawing you in like an invisible invitation. 

You can’t…

Close your eyes…

The curse you let out was violent. Angry. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for falling asleep so easily, trying to will yourself to wake up before the woman appeared again. As you looked up at your surroundings, you found yourself on the campus of your university, yet there was no one else around and it was pitch black dark outside.

You began walking along the path of your campus, feeling uncomfortable with being out in the open like this. You figured you should probably hide, but honestly it wasn’t like hiding was your best chance of survival. No matter where you ran or hid in your dreams, that damned shadowy woman would always find you. 

A memory of her appearance flashed before your eyes, her tall, looming figure casting her presence in your mind. Rosaria… you remembered her name. How she would purr it in your ear moments before she was about to strike. Rosaria… you wouldn’t dare forget it, her wicked smile stretching ear to ear like a cat toying with a mouse. 

You jolted when you thought you heard the screeching noise of metal against metal. Her claws. Oh how could you forget about her claws? They were the thing that frightened you the most about her. The way they would eerily scratch against the wall to warn you of her presence…

Speaking of her claws, you should probably move faster. It was getting to the point in your dreams where she would make her presence known.

You hurried off the sidewalk and into one of the buildings of your university, hoping you could survive until your brain eventually woke up. Your university looked and sounded eerie without anyone else inside the building, your footsteps echoing on the tiled floor as you kept a lookout for your killer. 

Everything felt straight out of a horror film, each moment of silence building up the suspense. You were surprised you didn’t wake up automatically due to your unusually high heart rate (or die of a heart attack). As you continued walking, you felt as if your footsteps were echoing a little louder than usual…

You stopped. Took one step forward, and the step ricocheted twice as loud through the walls. Another step. Another. You stopped again and felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t think she would find you so soon. 

Without turning around to see if she was actually there, you bolted. The footsteps behind you breaking into a sprint as well as panic began to settle into your nerves. How does she always find you so fast? You let out a cry and tried upping the pace, not bothering to look back. “Leave me alone!” You cried out desperately, tired of these endless nightmares where you felt like you were in a constant death cycle. 

Rosaria didn’t say anything, but you knew she could hear you. Your mind whirling with ways of how to escape from her and mapping out possible hiding spots. The boiler room… you figured you could hide in there, almost no one ever knows how to get down there except for you and the custodians. 

You took a sharp corner and ran to the door that had a Do Not Enter sign. So, like the rebellious woman that you were, you entered anyway. 

It was darker than usual in the basement. The cinder block walls were covered in a thick mildew that made you cover your nose with your sleeve. You forgot how musty it was in here, but nevertheless you found yourself a nice hidden corner to tuck yourself in and hide. You didn’t know when your body would finally wake up, when this nightmare would finally end. All you could do was sit there and wait, hoping morning came before that woman could find you… 

You recalled the first time you encountered her in your dreams. She had some pretty nasty scarring on her face that came from what looked like a burn, however underneath all that rough exterior, you could make out a beautiful face underneath. 

Damn. For a woman as insane as she was, she was still attractive for your tastes. You rested your head on the metal of some pipe, scrunching up your nose at the thought. Of course you had a thing for scary women, but honestly now was not the time to crush on your killer… 

You heard that high-pitched screeching noise of her metal claws dragging against the wall again, causing you to tense up. She was close. You held your breath and tried to make yourself appear as small as possible, shoving yourself deeper into the corner that you wedged yourself in. The handle of the basement door twisted open, its click reaching your ears and making you freeze in place.

How the hell did she find the hidden door?

The woman’s heavy, intimidating footsteps slowly roamed around the basement. A small hum leaving those cracked lips of hers as she got closer and closer. Well, you were trapped. With your back against the wall, you knew you had no place to run and squeezed your eyes shut.

Her footsteps suddenly stopped, but they sounded quite close to where you were hiding. This was it, this was how you would die. In your dreams, in your sleep, where no one will be able to figure out the real cause of your death in the real world. 

Cold metal lightly traced the bottom of your chin, making you let out a whimper. A small, strained chuckle left the woman in front of you, her face stretching into a grin at the sight of you.

“Open your eyes, girl.” Her voice was raspy and grated, it was like she hadn’t spoken in a long time. Her grip tensed a bit more around your chin, making you yelp pathetically for fear of her claws nicking you. She chuckled at the yelp, gently brushing your cheek with a claw and silently ushering you to obey. 

You did, slowly opening your eyes and focusing on the woman in front of you. Rosaria…

She was just how you remembered her. That same, sleazy smile plastered on her disfigured face, the burn marks and scars running over her skin but failing to hide her beauty. Your biggest fear was standing right in front of you, cupping your face in her hands (claws?) and having you knelt pathetically on the floor for her. You hated it. Hated how pathetic you looked, hated how she stared down at you like the victor of the hunt. She had you cornered so easily and you hated it. 

“You look like you want to bite my nose off.” Rosaria chuckled, gently poking your nose with the tip of her finger. She would pinch it if she could, if not for the knives she had on her fingers. “Like a cornered rat…”

You glared at her, as that nickname was uncalled for. However, it seems that Rosaria didn’t see it as a bad thing, as she continued “petting” your face and making your nerves dance under her fingers. 

“--and to think that I found you in the boiler room too. Don’t look so upset, rats are quite the intelligent creatures, and it took several dreams of chasing you to finally have you in my grasp.”

You gulped as her bladed fingers slowly traced over your cheek, over your lips, and then down your neck. Maybe you were just imagining it, but her eyes almost looked…intrigued. Watching the way a small lump of saliva went down your throat from how nervous you were, admiring the goosebumps on your skin as she traced a blade over the groove of your neck, almost like she was about to slit it. 

“You are surprisingly calm for a woman who has several knives to her neck.” Rosaria comments, finally making eye contact with you again and smiling. “Or perhaps, you’re too scared to say anything to me?’

Well what can you say? Please let me live? Fuck you for ruining my sleep schedule? It didn’t matter anyways, your last words would be heard from a serial killer that only existed in your dreams. There really was no point in talking to her. 

Your lips formed a thin line and you closed your eyes, admitting defeat and knowing when you had been bested. She won. She caught you and wore you down, your body too tired to even fight back after all these days. 

Rosaria simply stared back at you for a while, her face blank as she watched you submit yourself.

“...Silly girl.” she chuckles, licking her scratched up lips and tilting your chin up to look at her. “Are you waiting for me to slit your throat? Gouge out those pretty eyes perhaps? Murder you?” She let out another dry laugh, watching the tears in your eyes make your pupils appear all the more glossy. Gods above you were cute. Quite pathetic, but very, very cute to the killer. “You’d be fun to murder, but much more fun to keep around.”

“...H-Huh?” the word came out quite dumbly, almost instinctively from how tired you were. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I quite enjoy hunting pretty girls like you,” she ran a blade across your head, almost like a caress. “You scream, you cry, it’s adorable. But…I like you, little rat.”

She grinned again when you subtly pouted at her. She would have to keep calling you a rat more often. “You are very resistant, staying awake for as long as you can, drinking all those caffeinated energy drinks so you don’t fall asleep.”

“H-How did you–”

She cut you off before you could question her more, one of her blades moving dangerously quick to shut your lips. She was amused at how quickly you froze up, fear settling in as you were afraid she would cut your lips. “Hush now…” she murmurs, lowering her body a bit so that she is directly in front of you. “Don’t question things beyond your understanding, girl. Your cute brain will hurt too much.” 

She laughed as she belittled you, treating you as if you were some child. You gritted your teeth and wanted to say something back, but the blade on your lips was still there. “Listen…I know how desperately you wish to wake up, to get away from me…” 

She leaned in and purred into your ear, a shiver running down your back.

“So why don’t I help you?” 

You nearly jolted at the implications, your face feeling hot from how much adrenaline was rushing through your veins. Rosaria smiled at your fear, before clarifying herself. “I won’t kill, or harm you in any way. To wake up from my dreams, your heart rate must exceed a certain amount, yes? Then your body will wake up on its own…”

Your breath hitched when you suddenly felt another set of blades trail down your stomach, her other hand making its way to your nether regions. 

“I can accelerate your heart rate in another way.”

Before you could ask her what she meant, she suddenly moved closer to you, her lips dangerously close to yours. A gasp left your lips, having never been so close to your killer before. She was even more attractive up close, every scar and burn on her face simply adding to her horrifying beauty. You couldn’t look away from her. 

“May I…?” she hummed. 

“What?”

“Kiss you.”

She was blunt with her answer, tracing your stomach under your shirt with a blade. “I promise you’ll feel even better than…” she laughed a little, “Say, getting killed.” 

Her humor was dark, but it was fitting for a woman like her. You wanted to say no at first, but the more you thought about it, the more you gazed upon her and her features, you felt a small part in the back of your mind say yes. 

“Okay…” you responded meekly, a bit hesitant but curious. Rosaria’s smile widened, pulling you so close your lips nearly brushed against her on the spot. “You’ll enjoy it.” 

She then pushed her lips against yours, the feeling bringing a burning feeling to your core. Her lips were dry and slightly cracked due to her scars, but even if it felt odd at first, you found yourself almost intrigued by the feeling. Her lips were warm. Somehow comforting in a way as she pushed you up against the wall and kissed you harder. 

Oh…how soft your lips were. Rosaria had long forgotten what soft, unscarred lips felt like. She wanted to touch them, kiss them, lick them, she was absolutely enamored by how sweet and plush they were. 

“Damn…you’re soft…” Rosaria murmured, her lips turning into a grin mid-kiss, before smushing them against you once more. “You might die of asphyxiation because of me instead…”

She chuckled at her dark jab of humor, before growling more hungrily into the kiss and wanting her tongue inside you. As you whimpered at how rough she was getting, you felt her hot tongue lick a stripe against your lips, seeking entry into your mouth. You obeyed, parting those lips she loved so much and allowing her to taste you from the inside. 

Rosaria loved the submission. Her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure while she groaned at the feeling of your tongue meekly pushing back. She parted away and licked the messy drool from the corner of your mouth, smirking at the absolutely dazed expression you gave her as it was clear this was your first time. “Never had another woman’s tongue in you before?” Rosaria hummed, gently tapping the outside of your cheek. “It’s okay, that means it’ll be easier to get your heart pumping twice as fast…”

She dove right back in for another kiss when you weren’t paying attention, dragging her blades down to your shorts. They were the thin kind, just comfortable sleeping shorts you often wore to bed, which made Rosaria all the more happier. “So thin and raunchy…I can’t believe you sleep in these every night.” She smiled and used the tip of her blades to tear the fabric with ease, the sound ripping through your ears and causing goosebumps to form on your thighs. Rosaria pulled away from you, licking her lips as the tatters of what used to be your shorts hung from your knees. 

The woman’s eyes narrowed upon your choice of underwear for the night. Simple, yet very cute cotton panties that barely covered your virgin cunt. She didn’t miss the way your arousal so shamelessly seeped through the fabric of the underwear, clearly turned on by what she was doing to you. “Ah…so wet, hm? Never realized you got all hot and bothered by serial killers?” She grinned at your embarrassment and pulled the elastic on the waistband with her finger. 

It seemed she was gauging how far the elastic would stretch before it inevitably snapped under the sharpness of her blade, enjoying the thrill of seeing more and more of your privates. 

“So pretty and hot.” Rosaria rasped, the growl in her throat prominent as she finally tore your panties to shreds. You let out a gasp and tensed at the sight of her finger blades so close to your cunt, dangerously close as something so sharp next to something so sensitive was making you scared. 

Scared…? Or aroused? You honestly had no idea as that small pulse of heat in your core was difficult to gauge. 

“Mmm…spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” Rosaria hummed, ushering for you to lay on your back and prop yourself up using your arms. You were in such a vulnerable position, legs spread and stomach exposed, looking like a little rodent that had been ensnared under the claws of the carnivore. “Have you ever been eaten out?” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head no, having only seen that sort of thing in pornos and 18+ films. Rosaria smirked and suddenly got down on her knees in front of you, opening her scarred lips and extending her tongue out almost teasingly. “Well, you’re about to experience it now.” 

She grabbed your hips, ensuring you wouldn’t squirm away –which was pointless because you had nowhere to squirm to– and caged you underneath her mouth. It really did feel like you were about to be eaten by a predator, the way she so hungrily drooled at the sight of you twitching so needily. After savoring the sight of you for a few more moments, Rosaria was finally ready, letting out an almost animalistic growl and licking up your inner thighs.

Just like the rest of her, her tongue was quite rough. Except it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you thought, her rough tongue slowly inching its way to the delicate muscle of your clit, making you arch your back a little. “Mm…down.” Rosaria commanded firmly, making your back hit the floor again as she licked small ministrations getting closer to your heat. With each lick, each hot breath from her mouth, you felt your pussy throb with need, a choked gasp leaving your throat. 

Rosaria smiled to herself at how desperate you looked, having successfully gotten you to submit and feel the pleasures she had to offer you. She took one last look at your pathetically lustful face, before focusing on her next target; your clit. 

She leaned in and finally placed her tongue on your swollen clit, making you jolt and whine at the sensation. Rosaria had to hold you down again, groaning and getting impatient with you for being so jumpy. “Down.” She growled again, gently nipping at your clit as punishment for disobeying her orders. 

You cried out, legs shaky from the stimulation that Rosaria was giving you. She went down again, slowly licking long stripes across your clit before wrapping her lips around it and sucking. Though the noises she was making were raunchy and embarrassing for you, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction she gave you whenever she paid attention to the areas you needed the most. 

Your body heat only rose more as Rosaria traced her tongue more over your folds, sliding the tip in between them and making your heart rate spike. The more gasps and whines you let out, the more Rosaria slobbered over your cunt, getting hungrier and hungrier for your orgasm. 

“Oh…shit.” Rosaria grumbled to herself, slotting her tongue deeper and getting drunk on the taste. “You taste really good…” 

Her tongue continued to make wet slurping sounds, trying to draw you closer to your orgasm. You had never gotten wet or orgasmed before in your life, so to have your virginity taken by a nightmarish serial killer was almost pathetic when you put it into words–

Oh, but what the hell. She felt so good and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to be mad anymore. Your hands made their way to Rosaria’s hair and tangled into her wine-colored hair, tugging on them and bringing her closer to your cunt. She let out an almost breathless sigh at that, smushing more of her face into your thighs. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you to do that to me.” She groaned, enjoying the way you grabbed onto her short hair. “You have guts I’ll give you that.” 

She let you hold onto her like a lifeline, pushing her tongue further and watching you cry out in ecstasy. You didn’t think her mouth would feel so good, and Rosaria didn’t think your pussy would taste this good. Both of you were entangled in a world of pleasure with each other, your whines further spurring Rosaria on and making her want to see you orgasm for the first time. You felt your body getting close, your heart pumping wildly in your chest and making you feel as if you were about to burst. 

“Coming so soon…?” Rosaria hummed, that same sleazy smile stretching on her lips. “Quite pathetic, but it’s adorable.” 

You would normally have something snarky to quip back at her, but the only thing that left your lips was a half-strangled moan. She continued pushing you, edging you with her tongue as she brushed over your entrance with those scarred lips of hers. This, combined with the sensation of her thick tongue maneuvering deep inside you was enough to make you see white. Your walls tightened and your thighs instinctively clamped around Rosaria’s face, causing one of her claws to accidentally nick you in the process.

It didn’t hurt, if anything it felt more like a paper cut, but Rosaria was so stunned by your reaction that she didn’t expect you to suddenly orgasm on her tongue. A loud, needy whine escaping your throat and making her own pussy throb at how much you enjoyed her. As your hot cum spilled out onto Rosaria’s face for the very first time, your heart rate had accelerated at speeds that you didn’t even feel when being chased by Rosaria previously. 

You felt your body go numb from the aftershocks of your very first orgasm, the dreamy world around you starting to fade. 

“Good girl…” Rosaria said under her breath, kissing your clit for the last time, before you closed your eyes. “Next time wear some sexier panties the next time you go to sleep.”

You blacked out after that. 

You jolted from your bed, covered in sweat and with your heart hammering in your chest. Your breathing was unsteady and you felt like you had gone on the wildest roller coaster in your life, the adrenaline still coursing through your bloodstream from the aftermath of what occurred in your dream. 

The cracks of daylight began to seep in through your bedroom window, telling you that you had slept through the night and that it was now morning. The world of reality suddenly didn’t feel too real to you anymore, and you wondered if the dream was a genuine dream that you had, or if it really was the ghost of Rosaria haunting your nightmares again. 

A dull ache made itself known to you between your legs, causing you to wince. As you moved the blankets off of you, you were shocked to see the absolute mess you had left on your sheets; a giant wet spot which formed at where your pussy was, and tatters of your shorts and underwear left scattered around your bed. However, what shocked you most of all, was the small line of red that you saw on the outer part of your thigh, a small trickle of blood that didn’t hurt, nor did you feel when you went back to reality. 

If the mark was anything to go by, you knew that these dreams were definitely real, and that Rosaria was real too if this was the case. You gently traced the red mark with your finger, but didn’t make an effort to clean it up, too distracted with your own thoughts to think straight. 

Slowly, you slide out of bed, but not before looking at the can of a half drunken energy drink sitting on your nightstand. 

You looked at the drink, sloshed the liquid inside it to see how much was in it, before throwing it out in the bin. 

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace

[dhoranbolt]

You don't fool me

A/n: two thing- first this took me forever to write, I kept having to go back and scrap ideas 🥹 second, I did not know just how down bad I was for this man until I had to sit down and write this so.

Also friendly reminder- if your age isn't easily accessible on your profile I will not be tagging you! That said if you'd like a tag in future works let me know and I'll add you to the list!

bestie beta reader: @yukios-medic you are really the best ma'am I appreciate you so much 🥹💙💙💙

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader, Yuji pining

cw/tw: minors/ageless blogs DNI, all characters aged up, dub-con that becomes enthusiastic consent, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, threats of killing

Word count: 5k (ish)

This wasn't the first time they'd been paired up and sent off to find and kill a curse, but it was the first time Yuji was weary of the whole thing. They were both strong, that wasn't an issue – he'd been on back-to-back missions for weeks and it was starting to take its toll, that was the issue.

Of course, it didn't help that whenever he was around her, Sukuna would become an even bigger pain in the ass (than he already was).

They'd been sent to a long-abandoned warehouse, falling apart as it was, and radiating with cursed energy. Yep, whatever it was they were after was definitely in here.

"Split up to cover more ground?" She suggested as she looked up at him, but he shook his head.

"We can probably exorcize it quicker if we come across it at the same time, we should just stick together for now." It was a simple enough explanation, not a hint of 'I'm pushing my limits just being here with you' or 'it's easier to know you're safe if you're by my side' detectable.

To her, at least. Yuji chooses to ignore the scoff that resonates in his head as they cautiously enter the building. They walk side-by-side down the hallway, ears and eyes analyzing every detail of their surroundings.

"Must be one pain in the ass curse to send the both of us. I can feel the cursed energy everywhere, I just can't tell exactly where the source is." She filled the silence, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s out there, but it's all about the same output. We'll just have to watch our backs." Yuji said with a nod.

"Hey, what do you think Nobara did when she found out Gojo canceled movie night to send us after this one? I can see her practically popping a vein." She laughed softly, moving around a stack of boxes to find any sign of their curse.

"Fushiguro is probably wishing it was you that got left behind right about now." Yuji guessed with a small chuckle, suppressing the thought that he might have wished for it, too. A faint gurgle sounded at the opposite end of the hall, cursed energy seeping into every corner of their bodies as it grew closer.

Yuji covered her mouth with his hand, keeping her scream muffled as he tugged her against his chest and pulled them into the shadows.

"Shh, I think I hear something." He murmurs, squinting in the darkness. He doesn't feel the mouth form on his hand, not until her lips are moving against his palm as she makes a noise.

She's gagging; trying to pry Yuji's hand off her face. And he's going to – until Sukuna's voice rings in his head.

'Pull away and I'll bite her tongue off. Try to keep her quiet while she's drowning in her own blood'

Yuji froze as Sukuna cackled, and she still struggled in his grip, now like iron to keep the curse from making good on his threat.

His name was muffled when she frantically tried to call it, but it only left her mouth open that much more for Sukuna to swipe his tongue along the inside.

If they could conceal their own cursed energy for just a second, then it would keep going on its path to the left of them, and probably wouldn't circle back around for a while. Yuji set his jaw, glaring up the hall as he spoke.

"Conceal your energy, then we'll deal with him. One curse at a time." The only confirmation she gave that she heard him was slightly loosening her grip on his arm.

The curse slunk away and Yuji held his breath, waiting to hear any sign of it coming back. When he was sure it wasn’t, he let out a sigh and threw his head back against the wall. Taking a moment to realize the situation they were still in he looked down at her.

He couldn’t see the blush in her cheeks, but he could feel the heat on his fingers. She shifted her body against his, letting out a whimper at the awkward kiss she was still locked in.

Yuji swallowed hard and took a deep breath. This was so not the time to be letting the sounds she was making go straight to his cock.

'You want her so badly, take her.' Sukuna taunted.

"No." Yuji snapped his response, trying to think of a way out of this (and the boner he was starting to sport against her back).

'Fuck her, brat. Or I'll kill her the next time I get the chance, and I'll draw it out while I make you watch.'

Sukuna knew well what he was doing, keeping this conversation in Yuji's head. She had no clue what he was trying to shield her from. Of course he wanted her, but not like this. Not when Sukuna was all but forcing his hand on the matter, not even giving her a choice.

“I said no! Knock it off!” Sukuna just chuckled, and she turned her head to look up at him with worry in her eyes.

'Or perhaps you’d like me to put us both out of commission. Tell me, just how long do you think she’d last against this curse on her own?'

Yuji’s heart dropped to his stomach. There’s no way Sukuna hated her enough to let her die like this, not with the way he found her so entertaining to him. Not with the way he currently had his tongue down the back of her throat- right?

'No, but if it would cause you everlasting turmoil, I’d jump at the chance.'

Could she ever forgive him for doing this? Would Sukuna even drop this after all was said and done?

Yuji was exhausted, and Sukuna knew it too. It was only a matter of time before he could slip out and swap places.

'I could always assist instead. After all, one wrong move and she’s on her own anyways. Go ahead brat, ask me for my help.' He grinned.

“No, last time I let you out you were a dick.” Yuji snapped, but he was running out of options here. How long until that curse realized where they were and turned back around? He could always make a deal with Sukuna, if he would agree to it was another question though.

At the sound of Yuji’s words her body tensed, blood running cold. There was no way Yuji was actually thinking about letting the king of curses out into the wild, especially when he already had her in this position.

'Tic-toc punk ass, this offer isn’t going to last forever.'

“Promise you won’t hurt her first.” Her eyes went wide and she began to struggle in his grasp again, body going hot. Screaming through his palm and Sukuna’s tongue as well as she could manage in protest.

There is no way he’s about to offer his body over to Sukuna right now, and all she could think about were all the previous times he’d spoken to her – though, at her might be a better word. Everything he’d said up to this point, his promises to absolutely wreck her- all came flooding back. Could they really not handle this job any other way than to bring Sukuna into the mix?

'You humans are so predictable, really fucking takes the fun out of everything. I’ll get rid of the curse. Just say you aren’t strong enough, you need a real man to do your dirty work for you.'

“That’s not-”

'Going once…'

“I don’t-”

'Going TWICE...'

“Fine! I need your help, please.” She was hysterical at this point, thrashing in his grip as much as she could, grinding her ass into him harder every time she moved.

'That doesn’t sound like what we agreed to, try again.'

Yuji groaned, thankful he could use that as an excuse to let out some of his frustrations.

“Sukuna please, I’m not strong enough and need a real man to do my dirty work for me.” Yuji bit out, and she stilled at his words, stomach knotting. Any minute now, Sukuna would be breathing down her neck. Months of sexual tension, mostly from his side - would it finally come to a head now? Or would he leave it and just get the job done, let Yuji take back over when it was safe–

A low chuckle rumbled from behind her, and the sound ran straight through her body to her core. She swallowed, realizing the tongue down her throat had finally disappeared.

Sukuna ran a hand up her chest before resting it on her throat.

“Well, well, this is certainly a turn of events, isn’t it?” She whimpered, frozen in place. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Sukuna…” She breathed his name warily.

“Surprised to see me? I did tell you I’d have you some day. So, how was I? It’s been a few hundred years. You’ll have to excuse the fact I’m a little rusty.” Sukuna filled the silence, not waiting for an answer.

“You weren’t too bad yourself; I think I even felt you participating at the end. Care for more?” He whispered in her ear, tongue flicking out to lick her lobe. She bit back her moan, clamping her knees together as she gently rocked back into him. He laughed, moving his hands down her body to grip her hips and pull her in closer against him.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, it’s just us. The brat won’t even know, it can be our little secret.”

“I-” She stammered, face hot. So what if she’d gone back to her room at the end of a long day full of Sukuna teasing her, and closed her eyes while chanting his name under the sheets? So what if being the object of the king of curses’ endless teasing was what she used to push her over the edge some nights? That was all by her choice - she was in charge.

Currently having Sukuna’s painfully rock-hard cock prodding her ass while he held her tight against him? She was so clearly not in charge, and to make matters worse? The realization sent her core gushing.

“I can smell you,” he continued, taking in a long breath. And this time she couldn’t bite back her moan.

“Sukuna!” She gasped, feeling the blush run up her ears.

“I think you should really stop being such a cock-tease, woman. No wonder Yuji can’t help but fuck his fist most nights. I bet he can smell you too, he just spares your feelings by not saying anything.” The fog he’d brought with him was starting to clear, and she tried to pry his fingers off of her.

“Stop! You’re lying!” But Sukuna just threw his head back in a cackle.

“I actually don’t care if you believe me, do you want to know why?” He stepped out from behind her so quickly, shoving her back against the wall, it made her head spin. Looking up at his tattooed face and red eyes only solidified how real this situation was for her - and her mouth went dry. He grinned down at her, gripping her chin to hold her in place.

“I’m going to fuck you through this wall. You won’t be able to look at that stupid brat without thinking of me inside you ever again. And he’ll never know because he’s out cold.” Using his free hand, he ripped off her skirt. She cried out, trying to grip his wrist and stop her panties from meeting the same fate.

“Aww, still shy, are we?” He teased as he examined the red lace, running his fingers down to the ever-growing wet spot on them.

“N-No!” Sukuna just chuckled, watching her face morph from flustered to pleasure at his touch.

“And look, you even wore red just for me. How cute of you.” She moaned, closing her eyes. The physical and mental teasing was too much. If he wasn’t going to kill her, she was going to die of embarrassment. He sucked his teeth, hooking his thumb into her mouth and tugging her face.

“Look at me while I touch you, I won’t tell you twice.” He snapped, and her heart thrummed in her chest. It felt so good to finally have him touch her after all this time, she’d forgotten just how dangerous he was in the moment. She nodded sheepishly.

“Good, you listen well for a sorcerer. I don’t believe in praising those beneath me, but I think I’ll make an exception just this once.” He pressed his fingers against her core, watching the way she squirmed under him.

“You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you, was my tongue down your throat just what you needed?” Her head was spinning, his hold on her jaw rough, but all she could picture was wrapping her lips around him.

She slid her tongue around his thumb cautiously, watching his reaction for any sign that she’d miss-stepped.

He groaned, smirking down at her as he leaned closer.

“And here you’d have everyone believing you’re too innocent for such filthy things.” Finding the edge of her panties, he pushed them aside, running his fingers through her slick folds. He watched as she moaned, satisfaction settling on his face as the moan grew louder when he pushed a finger inside of her.

“God you’re so tight, there’s no way that brat could stuff his cock in you.” Her walls flexed at his words. Sukuna’s one finger was already so thick, and now her mind was swimming with the thought of having more.

“But don’t worry, you’ll take it from me.” And then she felt a second finger at her entrance, making her eyes open wider. She tried to speak as best she could around the awkward hold he still had her in, but it didn’t matter.

“Suku-na!” She cried out as he forced another finger into her.

“I’d be thanking me if I were you. I’m feeling generous enough to stretch you out before I ram my cock into your stomach.” He offered, grinning as he watched her try and hold herself together.

He didn’t wait for her to adjust to the feeling, why would he? Fucking her open on him was all he could think about while he sat bored on his throne - not that he was admitting it aloud.

So many days, weeks, months, of him wrapped up in her. He knew exactly what she was doing to him, even if she didn’t.

“Was it worth it to parade around like a whore in heat around us?” He asked as he began to slide his fingers in and out of her.

“You know I offered him the chance to have you first. Humans and their virtues though, so fickle. Of course, the brat couldn’t do this.” He pressed his palm against her cunt, and her back arched off the wall as his tongue shot out to flatten on her clit.

Letting go of her chin he wrapped his hand around her neck, giving it a testing squeeze before trailing down to her chest. Groping over her top, and then easily ripping the buttons away.

“Not my clothes!” She protested, but if he heard, he ignored her. Choosing instead to knead her breast as it spilled over her matching bra. Sukuna chuckled, looking back at her.

“The matching set, I’m starting to think you really did wear this just for me. Is that what you do? Under all those clothes you put on, you wear red hoping I’ll catch a glimpse. Hoping I’ll come out to rip it off of you.” He spoke as he rolled her bud roughly between his fingertips.

“God!” She cried out. He was everywhere. Pumping his fingers further inside her walls, tongue abusing her clit-

“I’ll be your god.” He hissed, before leaning down to suck her nipple into his mouth.

She was fast approaching the edge, gasping for air as he shot her towards her peak.

He curled his fingers inside of her, reaching a new angle that sent white hot pleasure shooting through her body.

“Sukuna!” She choked out, reaching up to ball her hands into his top. She was wary of touching him at first, opting to press against the wall instead. But it was all too much. She needed something more to try and ground herself through the first orgasm he was going to rip from her body.

“You gonna cum, little sorcerer?” He hummed around a mouthful of her breast, looking up at her expectantly. She already looked so cute and fucked out for him; grinding into his hand to push him further inside, face flushed as she whimpered his name over, brows pinched up while she looked down to him with a breathless nod.

“Please Sukuna...” If he wasn’t so pent up himself, he might have stopped what he was doing, but edging her would only edge him, and he had no interest in prolonging his own pleasure any more than being stuck in the passenger seat of his vessel already had.

For this encounter, anyways. So, he gave her what she wanted, driving his fingers faster into her cunt, biting down on the nipple currently still in his mouth, while his other hand roughly pinched at the other.

He could feel how close she was. It was getting harder to slide his fingers back into her, and he couldn’t wait to sink into her.

When he didn’t slow down or stop, she took it as permission, though, the tip of the iceberg was so close that even if he had told her no, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped, anyway.

It crashed over her in waves, throwing her against the wall as she cried out his name. Everything was gone - her sight, her hearing, all she could do was ride against his hand, and hope that their grasp on each other was enough to keep her standing through the intensity of it all.

Even when her high started to ebb away, he was still lazily pumping his fingers inside of her. Slowly the world came back to her, heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she whined.

“Aww, is someone sensitive?” He pulled away from her chest with a grin, red eyes glinting as he stared down at her dazed expression. She weakly pushed against his chest, trying to get him to stop while she regained some semblance of normal breathing.

“Sukuna…”

“Well, aren’t you going to thank me?” She swallowed hard, still trying to find her way out of the haze.

“I- thank you...” He pulled his fingers out of her, chuckling at the whimper that left her lips. Raising his hand to his mouth, he kept his eyes on her as he sucked his fingers clean.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“What?” Confusion crossed her face, and he pressed the same two fingers against her parted lips, looking on in admiration as she opened them without question. Sukuna pressed his fingers against her tongue, pulling her mouth open as he did.

“Those red panties you’re wearing will be sufficient.”

“What?” The word left her mouth again, and he raised an eyebrow, dragging his fingers down her tongue and out of her mouth. She stared at him for only a second more before leaning down to slide them off her hips. She looked down to keep from fumbling, but he hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face back up to him.

“I didn’t say you could look away.” She bit her lip, shimmying awkwardly to slide them down her knees. Stepping one foot out of them at a time, she began to lift them up. He grabbed them from her, large fingers brushing her own as he did.

She moved to stand up again, but he stopped her, shaking his head.

“On second thought, I don’t think one pair of panties is worth a mind-numbing orgasm, do you?” But it wasn’t really a question, not when he was already guiding her to her knees in front of him. The floor below her was cold - a shock that her core, still radiating heat, could feel.

“Be a good girl and open wide,” he said, reaching into his pants to take hold of his neglected cock. Pulling it out, he ran his thumb over the tip, smearing his precum up and down his length.

Sukuna groaned, gritting his teeth. The brat could imagine all he wanted; it would never compare to having her right here in front of him. Small hands braced on his thighs, eyes blown wide as she took in just how fucked she was about to be.

“See something you like?” Her breath hitched as he knocked his fat tip against her bottom lip. She slowly opened her mouth, tongue sliding out and against the underside of his cock. He groaned again, grabbing the back of her head as he forced himself into her mouth.

She dug her nails into his thighs as he did, trying in vain to pull her head back so she could breathe.

“You’re not acting very grateful. Don’t make me fuck your throat, I’ll end up hurting your feelings.” He chuckled. Tears were already welling in her eyes as she choked on what he could fit in her mouth. Slowly, she removed a hand off from his thigh, reaching down to run her fingers through her folds. When she’d gathered enough of her release, she reached back up to pump the rest of him with it.

“How resourceful of you. Makes me want to fuck my cock down your throat all the more.” She moaned around his length, gently rocking him as far as she could take him. Part of her was screaming for air, the other wanted to make him feel just as good as he’d made her feel moments ago. The fog was back, and she blinked the tears away as she looked up at him.

His jaw was tense, one hand still at the back of her head, the other balled in a fist and braced against the wall. Before this she’d only seen him when he was a mouth and one eye, stirring up chaos on Yuji’s cheek. Looking up at him now, though, red eyes trained on her and black markings all over his body - he was breathtaking.

All-powerful and terrifying as hell, considering that he could kill her in an instant, but breathtaking, nonetheless. She let her other hand slide down his leg to rest between her own, pressing her fingers into herself - only to whine in disappointment when it felt nothing like him.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you? I’ve gone hundreds of years without, and you just can’t wait for another.” She breathed hard through her nose, trying to take in as much air as she could before he hit the back of her throat again. Black dots buzzed at the corners of her vision, the sound of her choking on what she could take echoed through the hall.

Her jaw was pried open at a painful angle to accommodate him, and he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. Her grasp on his cock grew slack, and she wasn’t fighting him every time he knocked his tip just a little further into her mouth. Her own fingers stilled in her aching walls, eyelids fighting to stay open.

Sukuna huffed, sliding his hand around to smack at her cheek.

“Don’t go passing out on me now, I’m not finished with you just yet.” And he pulled out of her mouth with a loud squelch as she gasped for air. The lightheaded feeling slowly dissipated as she looked up at him, tears and spit covering her face.

“You did okay. For now. We’ll revisit that later, get up.” She didn’t have to be told twice, rising on wobbly legs as quickly as she could. The thought occurred to her, that she was practically naked in front of him, while he was still fully clothed. She swallowed hard, trying to wipe away some of the shame along with the tears.

But he didn’t give her much time to wallow in her self-pity, quickly turning her around and pinning her to the cool wall. She shivered at the feeling of his solid body pressed into her back, erection still wet with her spit as it bounced on her bare ass.

“Maybe next time, I’ll let you look at me while I fuck you.” He breathed down her neck, grabbing his length and rubbing it through her folds. She dug her nails into the wall; he barely fit her mouth, there was no way she was ready–

“Relax, I’m not interested in breaking you the first time around. It would ruin the fun in watching you look at me in anticipation every time you’re around.” And he wasn’t wrong. Hell, he was still here, and the anticipation was coursing through her. Taking a slow breath she waited, thankful that the cool wall was enough to ease the heat on her face.

Sukuna gripped her hip and hooked his tip at her entrance before pushing in. She gritted her teeth, moaning at the already over-full feeling. For the situation being what it was, he was fairly gentle as he steadily eased himself through her tight walls with a prolonged hiss. She could only stay pressed against the wall, jaw dropped in a silent moan as he filled her out inch by agonizing inch. Her eyes rolled, body unsure if she should cry out in pleasure or pain.

“God look at you, practically foaming at the mouth. What would your sorcerers say if they caught you like this, hmm?” He groaned, bucking his hips up into hers. Her voice finally caught up to her, and she cried out, nails scraping down the wall as she clawed for anything to keep her grounded.

He didn’t quite fit all the way, but it only turned Sukuna on even more. Of course, he couldn’t fit - but he would. He would break her open on his cock as many times as he needed, until she fit him like a second skin. Until he was the only thing she could think about whenever she tried to seek pleasure elsewhere.

She was playing a game she had no clue about, and Sukuna was going to win. He laughed as he grabbed her hips, pulling out to slam back into her walls. They sucked him in and tried to keep him out all at the same time.

“Sukuna, fuck!” She moaned, reaching behind her to slow him down. He said he wasn’t going to break her, but the rough pace he’d set was literally fucking the air right out of her lungs. Her walls squeezed him tighter, and he moaned.

“Too much for you already, princess? I’m just getting started.” Sukuna grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

“Too much, fuck, ‘s too much!”

“I’m not that brat, you’ll take what I give you exactly how I give it to you. Don’t piss me off, I’m in such a giving mood, right now!” He snaked his other hand around her, tongue darting out to swirl around her clit. Sukuna grinned. In an attempt to get away, she only managed to shove herself further onto his cock.

“Sukuna please, I don’t…Please!”

“Short circuiting, and I’m not even close yet. Shall we see just how many times I can make you cry before I’m finally satisfied?” Her mind was melting, she didn’t care anymore. What was she even begging for? Him to stop? Or maybe she was begging him not to stop. She’d never been filled up like this before; even the pain was pleasurable now. All she could do was stand against this wall and take it, anyway. Her body relaxed against him slightly, and he grinned.

“Is there something you want from me, little sorcerer?” She bit her wobbly lip hard, trying to focus on his words.

“I want- I wanna cum.”

“That so?” She nodded with a whimper.

“Beg, and I’ll think about it.” She couldn’t even be bothered with the feelings of shame looming overhead. She wanted one thing, and if begging was all she needed to do to achieve it, well…

“Please I wanna cum.” She whined, hands flexing in his grasp.

“Beg more, you can do better than that.”

“Please Sukuna please I wanna cum, never wanted to cum so bad. Please make me cum on your cock please I-” She was a wailing mess, she didn’t care who heard her pleas, only that he might answer them. His tongue licked at her folds, snaking around his length to tease her from every side.

He rocked her into her second orgasm, reveling in the feeling of her tightening around him as she screamed.

God, he needed to feel it again. The way her walls fluttered around his thickness, trying to close around the strain of taking him. The feeling was maddening, and Sukuna was sure he could pull another one from her immediately, he just needed to pick up the pace as he rammed his cock harder into her.

The wet sound of his second mouth lapping at her, mixed with her moaning variations of his name and ‘fuck don’t stop’ was more than enough to catch the attention of anyone close by, and as absorbed as Sukuna was in this little game, he wouldn’t let his guard down. He was sure she didn’t even remember what they were here for anymore at this point. If the whites of her rolled eyes and the drool currently sliding down the wall where her face was pressed against it were any indication, anyway.

He could feel her whole body start to twitch and tighten, and he knew she was close again. Two orgasms in, and he knew her body so well already. He’d put that knowledge to good use later.

“Go ahead little sorcerer, scream for me.” And she came hard, walls clamping down on him, practically shoving him out while she did. It was enough to send him reeling, too. Hips slamming up into her, he sank his teeth into her shoulder as he finished with a growl. If they weren’t both so wrapped up in each other, they might have realized he growled ‘mine.’ He painted her insides in white hot ropes, stilling when the euphoria finished washing over him.

“If you think that was mind-numbing, just wait until I get ahold of you in my true form.” Sukuna whispered against the shell of her ear.

He pulled out with a groan, watching her whole body quiver as he did.

“Clean yourself up.” She finally looked back at him, brows knit. He ripped the sleeve off his jacket, handing it over to her. When she tried to pull it, his grip tightened, and he looked at her expectantly.

“Thank you…” She said quietly as she cleared her throat.

“Such a good girl for me already, I don’t even have to train you. I’ll be back, be ready to leave when I am.”

“Wait where-”

“There’s still a job to do here, isn’t there? I’ve got a curse to kill.” He smirked as he walked backwards up the hall.

Yuji wouldn’t be awake for a while, plenty of time for Sukuna to hide his prize. One of the many he planned on taking from her, he thought as he twirled the red panties on his finger.

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[baizhoobies]

BSD Men and their Favourite Positions

A/N: OMG my first ever post on here ~ What better way to start off this blog than a little bit of smut with our favourite men? Cooked some of this up with a friend, I hope you enjoy! I ofc couldn’t fit every BSD character in here, depending if its what people want, I may do a part 2 dedicated to the Hunting Dogs, Mushitarō etc and maybe even a part 3 for various BSD women! So let me know if that’s something I should do next!

Warnings:, graphic descriptions of sex, mentions of kinks, 18+, minors dni

Reader is gender neutral with any genitalia !!

Including: Dazai, Atshushi, Kunikida, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Chūya, Akutagawa, Tachihara, Francis Fitzgerald, Edgar Allen Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Lovecraft, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma, Ango

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲

Dazai

I am not entirely sure what this position is called, but picture this: You are laying on your back, Dazai using his strong hands lifts you up by the waist, your legs are over his shoulders and he pulls you into him with a rough thrust. I feel like Dazai is stronger than he looks, so he uses his strength to his advantage, and he most certainly is rough with it. Expect him to man-handle you a lot, he has to have complete control over you - expect to ache the next day, along with some very pretty bruises where his fingers dug in. I’m sure this position has a name but my friend called it the ‘cervix/g spot destroyer 9000’ so we will go with that.

Atsushi

Our sweet Atsushi… oh yeah you are bent over doggy style, gnawing at your neck and shoulders as he pounds into you. He would probably cry a little, but only because he feels so good. Unlike Dazai, its not necessarily about control, but instincts for him. Being with you, he would absolutely go feral and his tiger senses just go crazy. He will have nothing on his mind except the thought of him pinning you down with his weight, cock buried deep inside and his mouth biting anywhere he can sink his teeth into.

Kunikida

I am absolutely biased and I will take liberty in saying that he would be quite partial to pinning you down into a mating press. It makes him feel in control, and of course that being in his ideals, will absolutely follow it to a tee. Its a position where you are able to get the best grunts out of him, as someone who isn’t super vocal (more huffing and panting), having him balls deep in you like this is sure to make him let out some involuntary moans. Also…it doesn’t matter what gender you are, he is getting you pregnant fr. Have you ever seen a man so fuck drunk? WELL YOU ARE ABOUT TO; he can only stay in control for so long until his senses overwrite everything. Not exactly his ideal, is it?

Ranpo

2 words…pillow princess. If you have a dick or a strap, he enjoys being pressed down into the bed, hips up and back arched whilst being hit from the back. He comes across as someone who would enjoy being with someone who could ‘outwit him’, and if that is you, he would willingly relinquish the control he feels that he has over people …to you. I personally believe he is a switch, but his favourite position? Any position where you fuck his brains out completely. Bonus points if you reach around and jerk him off at the same time, you will turn him into a moaning and whining mess.

Fukuzawa

As someone who comes across as traditional, I feel like missionary would be his most preferred position. Its comfortable, can be as slow or as fast as he (and you) feels - but what he likes the most is being able to see your face, the way it looks as you take him in and when you cum. If he isn’t looking at your eyes as he thrusts, he is most certainly resting his face in the nook of your neck, kissing your sensitive skin - you don’t complain, as someone who probably isn’t so vocal during sex, this is the best position to hear his low moans and praises on his lips as he comes undone. It’s also a very versatile position because he can be slow and romantic, full of love and praise, or after a stressful day, he can harshly rut into you with rough fingers digging into your hips.

𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚

Chūya

Never tell him that you’re a throat goat because he will go absolutely crazy. I mean CRAZY. He will have you laying on a table or a bed/couch if they are tall enough, your head hanging off the edge and your mouth open, taking him in completely. In this position he is able to fuck your throat mercilessly, noticing the bulge in your neck where his cock is buried; seeing it just inflates his ego and will jerk himself off using your throat for extra pressure/friction. If his hand isn’t around your neck, he will absolutely have one hand on your cock/cunt, playing with it for your own pleasure as he feels himself cumming down your throat.

Akutugawa

Also a missionary king, now it may seem ooc of him, but I feel like he would let his guard down with his significant other; like its a side only you get the privilege in seeing. Like he may have this tough exterior, but secretly he just wants to be held. So as much as he can be rough, he relishes in your warmth, your arms around him and pulling him into a hug; it makes him feel safe and secure. If your arms aren’t enveloping him, he will hold your hand, squeezing it as he enters you and when he cums. - Oh he definitely has a thing for holding your hand. Big meanie who is actually a softie!

Tachihara

The man relishes the thought and the feeling of having you sit on his face. You may feel like you are the one in control, but thats far from the truth. His grip is hard on your hips, pulling you further down onto his face, almost worryingly so; but don’t worry, the man knows what he’s doing. If he’s going to die by giving oral then that is a good way to die 🫡 Master tongue for real, like he prides himself. I BET he is the type of guy who gives his tongue a ‘work out’ just so he builds his durability for this very thing!! He won’t even think about cumming first without you cumming from his tongue; on second thought, he might even cum from eating you out alone, he just gets so in the moment…I better stop.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝

Francis Fitzgerald

Whew, okay this man wants you pinned against something, no matter the position; on his desk, against a wall, if its a hard surface, he wants you there. But in terms of favourite I would say against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, strong hands gripping and supporting your ass as he plunges deep and hard into you. It would definitely be an ego thing for him, being able to support you and also wreck your shit at the same time. Please do praise him, as his already mentioned ego will inflate and I just know he would fuck you better with each compliment. Expect a very bruised back and aching legs after, he doesn’t intend on taking it easy with you.

Edgar Allen Poe

As hopeless romantic like myself, I feel like he would want to be as close to you as possible with also being able to see your face. As strange as it may sound, but Poe enjoys having you in the lotus position - this way, he is able to feel your entire body grind into him so lovingly. The both of you would sit on his bed, your legs crossed around each other and his cock buried warmly inside of you, here he feels safe and content (you just know he is whimpering into your ear). Its also a good position for you to take more control, I just know ya man is a sub at heart, so do please tell him that he’s a good boy and how much you love his voice, because it will only egg him on to be louder.

Nathaniel Hawthorne

As a man of god, you will probably (definitely) be married to him to get anywhere near him sexually. But when you are married, rest assured that he will want to ravish you. He comes across as someone who has a lot of repressed sexual feelings, therefore he’d want a position that can demonstrate his absolute DESIRE. Because I am feeling generous, I would say either the mating press or cow girl. The mating press for…obvious reasons… his big strong body holding you down with a distinct goal in mind? Oh yes. I would also say the cowgirl, mainly because he would enjoy seeing you come undone on his cock, pulling you down either by your hips or your arms, balls bouncing against your ass…that man has seen god and its you.

Lovecraft

This is a tricky one, I don’t think he would necessarily have a favourite position for his own pleasure, but he would probably take gratification in your pleasure. YOU KNOW he would put those tentacles to good use if you ask him. With this in mind, I picture you asking him to “fill your holes”, which he does, and makes sure to do it where he has full view of the show. If you want his cock specifically, he will have several tentacles wrap themselves around your torso, one forcing your head down, the others keeping your thighs apart and hips up for him to enter you from behind - so in short I suppose his favourite position with you would be doggy !

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝

Fyodor

Thigh fucking, 100%. Something that doesn’t actually involve penetrative sex because of the whole,,,religion thing. Unless you were married, there will be no sex; aside from the loop holes. You are on your back, wearing the fanciest of underwear as Fyodor lifts up and presses your legs together, poking his hard cock through your soft flesh and thrusts. He will curse you out, call you a little temptress or seducer…when he cums it’ll never be inside, not that he hasn’t thought about it, he has. Each time you would do it he would get closer and closer to giving in. “You tempt me…” he’d whisper, there are very few people who could get him to question his faith, his morals…but you…you really are a little charmer, aren’t you?

Nikolai

I had a hard time deciding with Nikolai, but I honestly believe that he would be super into 69-ing. He would probably enjoy the fact that its the ‘sex’ number and make numerous jokes about it outside the bedroom. But INSIDE the bedroom is another matter. He would most likely prefer to be on top, it means that he has more power over you (and that you can’t escape him, not that you’d want to). He would be kind of sadistic too, pressing his cock further and further into your mouth, enjoying hearing the little gags and chokes as he essentially keeps you prisoner under his weight; he would never endanger you but…there is always an element of danger with him.

Sigma

Spooning, its something so intimate and personal to him, both fucking you and hugging you. He gives me the vibe that he just wants to be close to you, he’s clingy and a little possessive, so holding you in this position is heaven to him. You are laying on your side, one leg hooked over his arm, lifting it up so that he has the perfect angle to plunge deep into you. He is so loving when he does this, to him you might as well be made of glass. Expect a thousand kisses along your back and shoulder blades, a few little bites but not too rough, but enough to mark you. Sigma is also a whimperer and whiner, very vocal with it too (possibly even a crier if over-stimulated)

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚(𝐬)

Ango

Another very subby kinda guy, though definitely a switch in my mind, but I can elaborate in another post tee hee. I want to say his favourite is having you suck his cock. LIKE ofc he enjoys sex, but his favourite thing is seeing you servicing him on your knees, between his legs and swallowing every inch. He’s veryyyy sensitive on his tip, so even delicately kissing it before sucking him in will put him immediately on edge. He may try to establish dominance at first, but rest assured that will not last long. He will find it hard to compose himself, especially if you take every bit of him in your throat. His glasses will fog up, his face red and his fingers fumbling with your hair; awh look at him, you got him all flustered. Another man who whimpers, maybe even cry, but boy he sounds angelic whilst doing so.

A/N: ahhhh okay done!! I hope you enjoyed, I know I did. I fear that there are a few headcanons I’ve made and will have to elaborate on in the future. Like I am so going to dive into the Fyodor thigh fucking headcanon….lord have mercy I’m bout to bust. Alroighhtttt, till next time 🌸