#please he's already dead let him stay dead

[heliosunny]

Yandere Phainon with vampire reader. The story starts with him taking reader in to stay at his house cause they didn't have anywhere else to go. Due to reader not wanting to hurt innocent people, they would rather suck blood from dead animals or blood from hospital. But one day, due to not being able to find any stocks to suck on, they started to isolate themselves in their room, not wanting to go out of control, especially hurting Phainon. But seeing their state, Phainon decided to offer himself so that he wouldn't have to see them suffer any longer (and cause he wants them to suck his blood)

At first, reader argued with him, backing up cause they didn't want to suck his blood (for they wouldn't be able to resist cause of hunger) but Phainon caged them in his arms, pushing their head towards his neck and coaxed them gently to just feed on him.

Looking forward to how u will write this one!

Yandere!Phainon x Vampire!Reader

The night you first met Phainon, the sky wept. Rain poured in relentless sheets, soaking through your cloak as you stood before the grand wooden door of his isolated home. The cold bit into your skin, not that it truly affected you, but the exhaustion did. You had been wandering for too long, seeking refuge, hiding from hunters who would have slaughtered you on sight.

So when the door finally creaked open, revealing a tall man with silver-white hair and piercing blue eyes, your breath caught. His gaze was wary, assessing, lingering too long on the damp edges of your cloak, the pallor of your skin.

"You shouldn’t be out here." His voice was deep, smooth, yet edged with caution.

"I have nowhere else to go" you said honestly, suppressing the natural tremor in your tone. "Please."

For a moment, he only stared. Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped aside. "Come in."

You entered, shaking off the rain, your sharp eyes flicking around the space. The scent of silver, the faint traces of dried blood, the glint of well-maintained weapons along the walls, you had walked straight into the home of a predator. He's a hunter. His name is Phainon as he introduced himself.

You should have left. Instead, you stayed. You hid what you were, blending into his world while carefully avoiding suspicion. You learned his habits, watched the way he moved, how his fingers always lingered near a blade. You cooked for him, helped him track beasts of the night, shared in the silence of lonely evenings.

Then one day, you made a mistake.

A hunt went wrong. A slip of the tongue. A wound that healed too quickly. And just like that, the truth spilled from your lips.

You were a vampire.

You had expected anger. Hatred. For him to raise a weapon against you.

But Phainon only stared. Then he sighed.

"You should have told me sooner" he muttered, rubbing his temple.

"...You’re not going to kill me?"

"Do you want me to?" His gaze was sharp. "Because I don’t."

You didn’t understand it then. His patience. His forgiveness.

And when you offered to help him with his work, tracking creatures, setting traps, cleaning up after his battles, he only smirked and let you.

For months, it worked. You found stored blood from hospitals, drained already-dead animals, survived without ever tasting the warmth of a living vein.

But eventually, the supply ran out. And then the hunger came.

You locked yourself in your room, curling into yourself as the pain clawed at your insides.

The scent of Phainon was everywhere, his heartbeat, his warmth, the life that pulsed beneath his skin. It was maddening.

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t risk it. So you hid.

But Phainon wasn’t the type to let things fester. The moment he noticed your absence, he sought you out.

When the door creaked open, you flinched at the flood of light, your body stiff as Phainon stepped inside, his sharp gaze locking onto you. His expression was unreadable as he took in your trembling form, the way your fingers dug into your arms, the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"You're starving" he murmured.

You looked away. "It’ll pass."

"It won’t."

Then he stepped closer.

"I’ll fix it."

Your head snapped up, panic flaring in your chest. "No."

Phainon ignored you. He was already rolling up his sleeve, exposing the pale skin beneath. A quick, precise motion, and a thin line of red welled up.

You inhaled sharply, instincts screaming at you.

No, no, no.

"Drink!" he ordered, offering his wrist.

You recoiled, shaking your head violently. "I can’t."

His expression darkened, but his voice remained soft. "Yes, you can."

"If I do, I won’t stop," you gasped.

"I don’t care."

"Phainon—"

In a blur, he moved. His arms caged you in, one wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. His scent overwhelmed you, warm, intoxicating, too alive. Your body tensed as he tilted his head, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck.

"Drink" he whispered, "Take what you need. I want you to."

You shook. "You don’t know what you’re saying."

"You think I don’t?" His fingers slid into your hair, gently coaxing you closer. "I know exactly what I’m offering. And I won’t let you suffer when I can fix it."

Your breath was shallow. You couldn’t win this. Your fangs ached, your body screamed, and Phainon was right there.

He tightened his hold. "Do it."

With a strangled gasp, you sank your fangs into his flesh.

A sharp breath left him, followed by a low, satisfied hum. His blood flooded your senses, hot, rich, unlike anything you had ever tasted. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, burning through your veins like liquid fire. You gripped his coat, trembling as you drank deeply, surrendering to the hunger you had fought for so long.

Phainon exhaled, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns down your back. "Good" he murmured, voice thick. "That's it."

You should have stopped. But he felt too good, his warmth, his steady heartbeat against your lips. He didn’t push you away. He let you take from him.

And he smiled. Because this was what he wanted all along.

The fever came that night. Phainon lay sprawled on the couch, skin burning, breath uneven. His body struggled to adjust, to accommodate the loss of blood. You hovered nearby, guilt twisting deep in your gut.

"You knew this would happen" you murmured, voice tight.

Phainon smirked, half-lidded eyes gleaming even through the fever haze. "Worth it."

"Phainon..."

"You’re mine" he said, voice dark and amused. "And now… you can’t deny it."

He was right in a way. You had tasted him. And you would never be able to resist him again.

The fever burned through him relentlessly. His silver-white hair clinging to his damp forehead. Despite his words, despite how much he wanted you to take his blood, you had known the consequences. The first offering always left the giver weakened, fevered, caught between the edges of life and death as their body adjusted to the unnatural bond. And yet, even in his delirium, Phainon smirked.

"You’re staring" he rasped, voice rough but undeniably amused.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "You’re half-dead, and you’re still insufferable."

"Not dead enough for you?" His eyes flickered with something dark, teasing. "You can always take more."

You stiffened. "You want to die?"

His chuckle was weak but genuine. "Not at all." A slow inhale. Then, softer, "I just want you to need me."

Your fingers curled into your palms.

"You risked yourself" you muttered. "For what?"

Phainon let out a slow exhale, his fevered gaze never leaving yours. "Because I couldn't stand watching you suffer." His voice was uncharacteristically raw, honest. "And because I wanted you to drink from me."

You shook your head sharply, standing up. "You need rest."

Phainon only watched you, silent.

Then, as you turned away, his voice came—softer, but laced with an undeniable edge.

"You’ll need to drink again."

You froze.

"...No."

"You will." His smirk widened slightly despite his exhaustion. "You’ve already had a taste. Do you really think you can go back to starving yourself?"

Your throat tightened.

For the next few days, Phainon recovered, though his smirks never faded. If anything, he seemed pleased by the fever, by the proof that his blood was now inside you.

You tried to act normal. You helped with his work, stayed by his side, convinced yourself that you could forget.

But then, the hunger returned.

It came quietly at first. A dull ache, a fleeting thought, a phantom memory of warmth.

Then it grew.

You began noticing things you hadn’t before. The scent of his skin when he stood too close. The steady pulse in his throat when he spoke. The way your fangs ached when he brushed his fingers against your wrist.

It was unbearable.

You started avoiding him.

But Phainon wasn’t stupid.

One evening, he cornered you.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. You stood near the window, your hands gripping the sill, breathing slow, steady.

Trying to suppress it.

Trying to fight it.

But you felt him approach before he even spoke.

"You’re doing it again" Phainon murmured, voice smooth as silk.

You didn’t turn. "Doing what?"

"Hiding. Hiding the fact that you’re hungry." he continued, tone almost gentle. "I can feel it."

He was right.

"I won’t drink from you again" you forced out. "I won’t put you through that."

"Who said it’s up to you?"

Before you could move, arms wrapped around you from behind. Phainon caged you against the window, his body pressing into yours, the heat of him seeping into your cold skin.

"Phainon—"

"You will drink from me" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Because you need it"

You shook your head, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

"I won’t let you starve yourself" he continued.

Your fangs throbbed, instincts screaming at you to obey.

You clenched your fists. "Let me go."

His grip tightened. Then—he tilted his head, exposing his neck.

"Take it" he whispered, coaxing. Tempting.

Your breathing grew uneven. The scent of his blood was intoxicating.

You trembled. "I can’t—"

"You can" he corrected, pressing your head closer. His fingers slid into your hair, stroking, soothing, trapping. "And you will."

You clenched your jaw, resisting with every ounce of willpower you had left. But Phainon knew already. He felt you breaking.

"You belong to me now" he murmured, pressing his lips near your ear. "And my blood belongs to you."

And then—

Your fangs sank into his skin. A sharp breath left him.

You clung to him as the warmth flooded your senses. His arms never loosened. Phainon wanted you, and now, you could never escape him.

-----

The first time, Phainon had anticipated pain.

And he had felt it—sharp, piercing, the sudden shock of fangs sinking into his flesh. His body had instinctively tensed, heat rushing through his veins in a violent surge. But then came the pull.

A slow, intoxicating drain that left him lightheaded, yet unbearably aware. He had never felt anything like it, the way his blood coursed through his veins only to be drawn out, siphoned into you.

And it wasn’t just the sensation of loss.

It was the way your body trembled against his.

The way your fingers curled into his coat, desperate, clinging.

The way your breath came uneven against his throat, heated and hungry.

It was powerful.

And as much as he had intended to offer himself to you, he hadn’t expected it to consume him, too.

At first, he convinced himself it was just the aftershock. The fever. The inevitable consequence of giving too much.

But the next time—The next time, he craved it.

It happened again days later. Earlier than he expected.

You had resisted at first, still stubborn, still trying to push him away. But he had been patient.

And when you finally gave in

When your fangs pierced him once more

A sharp gasp left his lips.

The pain barely registered this time. It melted away almost instantly, drowned out by the rush.

The heat.

The pull.

Phainon had always been in control of his body, his senses. He had fought beasts, endured wounds, trained his body to withstand agony.

But this was something else.

It was dizzying, like sinking into deep, burning water. A fire that spread through his limbs, up his spine, into his very bones.

It wasn’t just the blood loss that left him breathless.

It was you.

The way you clung to him. The soft, involuntary sounds that left your lips. The desperate way you needed him.

The way his body responded to it.

A low, involuntary groan escaped him. His fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, gripping tight as the dizziness settled in.

It became a cycle.

You needed his blood.

And Phainon— Phainon needed the feeling of giving it to you.

Each time, it became easier. Each time, the pain faded faster, drowned out by something darker, something dangerously close to pleasure. It was twisted. It was addictive. And he didn’t care.

----

It started as a whisper. A fleeting suggestion. A dangerous temptation.

"Turn me."

At first, you thought he was delirious again, fevered and reckless, like the first time he offered himself. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

Phainon was serious.

And the worst part? You could feel it.

That same pull.

The same desperate, consuming hunger that gnawed at you, but mirrored in him.

A different kind of hunger. One not for blood, but for something far more insidious.

For you.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "No."

His smirk barely faltered. If anything, it deepened. "Why not?"

"Because it's a curse." Your voice was firm, but he saw the hesitation. "It’s—"

"A curse?" He interrupted smoothly, tilting his head. "Or a gift?"

You swallowed. "Phainon, don't-"

His hand shot out, grasping your wrist before you could put more distance between you. His grip was firm.

"Do you think I haven’t noticed?" he murmured, voice low, coaxing. "The way you try to resist, but you keep coming back to me?" His thumb brushed over your pulse, slow, deliberate. "You’re mine. And I’m already yours—whether you like it or not."

"Isn't this better?" he continued, "No more suffering. No more fevers. No more weakness." His blue eyes gleamed in the dim firelight. "If I become like you, we both get what we want."

Your fangs ached at the way he said it.

It was terrifying. Because you weren’t sure if you had the strength to deny him forever.

Phainon was relentless.

He let you think you could resist.

But he knew the truth. Because every time you fed from him, every time you drank deep and felt his pulse beneath your lips, every time you felt his body shudder against yours-

You got closer.

And closer.

Until one night—

You lost.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t a decision. It was an instinct. A moment where you had drunk too deep, where your senses blurred, where his breath hitched in something close to ecstasy.

And he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it. And in that haze-

He whispered, "Do it."

His voice was hoarse, pleading, desperate.

"Make me yours."

Your vision swam. Your hands were shaking. Your breath was uneven.

Your fangs sank deeper.

Not just to drink.

A violent, irreversible exchange. The taste of blood changed—thicker, darker, rich with something new. His body tensed against yours. A sharp inhale. A choked sound.

For a moment, everything stopped.

And you realized: You had done it.

Phainon was changing. And when his fever finally broke, when his eyes opened again— They weren’t the same. He wasn’t the same. And neither were you.

"Now nothing can ever separate us."

[zeroseuniverse]

Dance Of Familiarity II

Word Count: 1.7K Summary: “You... should’ve let me die,” he managed, his voice rasping with pain. “Not a chance,” She said, her hands working quickly to apply pressure to the wound, staving off the worst of it. “You’re not getting off that easy.” Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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The woman hissed in pain, clutching her bleeding shoulder, but her smirk never wavered. "Clever," she admitted, staggering back a step. "But not clever enough."

Before she or Hyunjin could react, she pressed something on her wrist—a small, discreet device that let out a sharp, digital beep.

The warehouse lights flickered. Then, in the distance, an explosion erupted.

Her heart lurched as she realized what was happening. "She’s collapsing the damn building," she growled, already pulling Hyunjin towards the nearest exit.

Hyunjin, still weakened from his wound, struggled to keep up, but his grip on her arm was strong. "She’s not just trying to kill us," he said through gritted teeth. "She’s covering her tracks."

Behind them, the woman had already disappeared into the shadows, slipping away as the structure groaned under the force of the explosion. More detonations followed in rapid succession, shaking the very foundation beneath their feet.

Chunks of metal and debris rained down as fire erupted in the distance, painting the night in hues of orange and red. The warehouse was coming down.

She made a split-second decision. "Hyunjin, we need to move—now!"

Hyunjin didn't argue. Together, they sprinted toward the exit, dodging falling beams and flames licking at their heels. The entire building groaned like a dying beast, the roof beginning to cave in.

Then—just as they reached the entrance—another explosion rocked the structure.

The shockwave sent them both flying.

She barely registered the pain as she crashed against the pavement outside, her breath ripped from her lungs. The taste of smoke and blood filled her mouth. Her vision blurred for a moment, but then she forced herself up, coughing.

"Hyunjin!"

He was a few feet away, trying to push himself up. Blood smeared his temple, and his breathing was ragged. But he was alive.

"Still here," he rasped, shaking off the impact. "Not dead yet."

She exhaled in relief before scanning the area. The warehouse was now an inferno, flames licking at the sky, the heat pressing against her skin even from a distance.

But the woman was gone.

"She got away," she muttered, fists clenching.

Hyunjin wiped the blood from his brow, his expression dark. "She won’t stay hidden for long. Not after what she just pulled."

She turned to him, searching his face. "She knew you. This wasn’t just a job for you, was it?"

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. For a moment, he was silent, as if debating whether to answer. But then, he met her gaze.

"I wasn’t just dismantling crime lords," he admitted. "I was going after her. She’s the one behind it all—the real power keeping the underworld in check. And she doesn’t just kill people."

She frowned. "Then what does she do?"

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened. "She owns them."

The weight of his words settled between them.

She had spent her entire career believing she worked on the edges of the underworld, untouchable, uninvolved. But now, for the first time, she realized she had never been on the outside at all. She had been playing in someone else's game.

And now, she was in too deep to walk away.

"Looks like we’re in this together," Hyunjin murmured, glancing at her with something that almost looked like amusement, despite the wreckage around them. "Think you can handle that?"

She smirked. "Guess we’ll find out."

Hyunjin’s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Then let’s get to work."

The fire raged behind them, but they didn’t look back.

The city lights blurred past them as she weaved the stolen motorcycle through the empty midnight streets. Hyunjin sat behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other pressed against his wounded side. His body was warm against her back, his breath slow but controlled.

"You’re losing a lot of blood," she said, voice even despite the way her pulse quickened at their proximity.

"I’ve had worse," he murmured near her ear. His voice sent a shiver down her spine—not from fear, but from something else entirely.

She clenched the handlebars tighter. Not the time.

Their escape from the burning warehouse had left them with nothing but questions and a common enemy. The woman had played them both, and now she was in the wind. If they wanted answers, they needed to move fast.

She  pulled into a dimly lit alley, cutting the engine. The silence settled between them as she swung her leg over the bike, turning to face him.

"We need to get you patched up," she said, nodding toward his side. "You’re not as invincible as you think."

Hyunjin smirked, his gaze flickering over her face. "You worried about me?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I just don’t want to be dragging your half-dead body around when we go after her."

"Liar." His voice was low, teasing.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he suddenly swayed, his smirk faltering. Instinctively, she caught his arm, steadying him against the alley wall. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and despite everything, the closeness made her heart stutter.

His eyes met hers, something unreadable flickering behind them. "You’re different from the others," he murmured.

"Yeah? How so?"

Hyunjin hesitated. Then, softer, "You didn’t take the shot."

She  inhaled sharply. He was right. She could have killed him back in that warehouse. She had every reason to. But she didn’t.

She forced herself to look away. "Maybe I just don’t like wasting bullets."

He huffed a quiet laugh, but there was something almost... fond in his expression when she finally glanced back at him.

She  shook off the moment, slipping back into business mode. "We need to find out who she really is. If she’s controlling the underworld, she won’t be easy to track."

Hyunjin straightened, his usual sharp demeanor returning. "I know someone who might have answers. A hacker. Goes by Raven."

She arched an eyebrow. "And you trust this Raven?"

Hyunjin’s lips quirked. "Trust is a strong word."

She sighed. "Great."

Despite the weight of the situation, she couldn’t ignore the awareness crackling between them—an unspoken tension lingering in every glance, every touch. They were two hunters forced into an alliance, walking a razor’s edge between survival and something much more dangerous.

And deep down,she knew: the closer they got to the truth, the harder it would be to ignore the pull between them.

She followed Hyunjin through the back alleys of the city, her senses on high alert. He was still bleeding, but he walked like he wasn’t—a practiced deception, one she saw right through.

"You sure you can make it?" she asked, her voice laced with doubt.

"Are you offering to carry me?" Hyunjin shot back, smirking even through the pain.

She scoffed. "I’d drop you halfway just to shut you up."

His laugh was low, amused. "Knew you liked me."

Before she could fire back, Hyunjin stopped in front of a seemingly abandoned building. The metal door was tagged with graffiti, but a closer look revealed a subtle symbol worked into the design—one only someone in their line of work would recognize.

Hyunjin knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more.

For a moment, nothing. Then, a voice crackled through a hidden speaker.

"Tell me this isn’t another 'I got stabbed and need a favor' visit."

Hyunjin smirked. "Good to hear your voice too, Seungmin."

There was an exaggerated sigh. "One sec."

A series of locks clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing Seungmin—known in the underground as Raven. He was younger than most expected, dressed in an oversized hoodie, his expression equal parts unimpressed and exasperated.

His sharp eyes landed on Hyunjin’s bloodstained shirt. "Seriously? I should start charging you for every time you stumble in here half-dead."

"Nice to see you too," Hyunjin said breezily, stepping inside.

She followed, shutting the door behind them. Seungmin’s gaze flickered to her, curiosity flashing across his face.

"And you brought company," he mused. "Is she your handler, or just here to make sure you don’t bleed out on my floor?"

"She’s the one who was supposed to kill me," Hyunjin said casually.

Seungmin blinked, then turned to her with a slow, deadpan nod. "Respect."

She raised an eyebrow. "Thanks?"

"Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble," Seungmin added, already walking toward his desk, which was cluttered with monitors and half-eaten snacks. "But I guess that means you’re both in deep shit now."

Hyunjin slumped into a chair with a wince. "We need intel on a woman. She's pulling the strings behind the syndicates, setting us up from the start."

Seungmin cracked his knuckles, already typing at lightning speed. "Describe her."

She did, recalling every detail—the way she moved, the glint of her blade, the cold amusement in her voice. Seungmin hummed as he worked, the screens flashing too fast for her to follow.

"So," Seungmin said after a few minutes, not looking away from his screen, "when exactly did you two start making heart eyes at each other?"

She choked. "What?"

Hyunjin, to his credit, didn’t look as flustered—just smug. "Told you, she likes me."

Seungmin snorted. "Right. And I’m the king of the underworld."

She crossed her arms. "Can you focus?"

"I am focused," Seungmin said, pointing at the screen. "See? Got something."

Both of them leaned in. On the monitor was a grainy surveillance image—of her.

"Well, well," Seungmin mused. "Looks like your mystery woman isn’t just pulling strings. She is the string. Name’s Elise Song. Ex-intelligence. Went dark five years ago. Official records say she’s dead, but obviously, that’s a load of crap."

She exhaled. "She planned this whole thing. We were just her pawns."

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. "Not anymore."

Seungmin leaned back, stretching. "Well, whatever you two decide to do, you better do it fast. If she’s really running things from the shadows, she won’t let you walk away alive."

She exchanged a glance with Hyunjin, a silent agreement passing between them. This wasn’t just survival anymore. It was a war.

Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples. "You’re both gonna drag me into this, aren’t you?"

Hyunjin grinned. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

Seungmin gave him a flat look. "That’s exactly what you’re doing."

She smirked. "Welcome to the game, Seungmin."

Seungmin muttered something under his breath, but he was already pulling up more files. "You two owe me so much coffee for this."

Hyunjin leaned back, wincing slightly as he shot her a look. "Guess we’re in this together now."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. "Try not to get shot again before we take her down."

"No promises," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than necessary.

And just like that, the tension between them thickened once more.

[cupidkay-666]

“Thank God, I left my door unlocked”

Tw: NSFW, gentle cnc, kn!fe play, manipulation, forced entry, light stalking, possible breeding kink?, praise kink , etc.

“ Damnit! ”, I groan as I drop my phone, while I was heading home from work. Just my luck, new phone already cracked. Great. I shoved the now cracked phone in my pocket and straighten my hair back into place. I take a moment to look around, taking in the small town. There isn’t much here but it’s home. I run in the parking lot from the school that I work at to my old car, trying to avoid the rain as much as possible. Once in my car, I look at my phone more closely, only to see it’s not cracked, it’s completely dead. “Ugh, I’m drained from work, shit I’ll just get a new phone tomorrow..”, I think to myself as I start the car.

I pull out of the parking lot, and stop my car at the red light. I look in my review mirror when my attention is caught by a black truck behind me. Jesus why are they so close to my car. They are practically on my ass. I roll my eyes and ignore it. As I’m heading home I notice that the same black truck is right behind me, close as ever. “ Ok asshole.”, I mumble to myself as I speed my car up. To my surprise they stay right on me. I can feel my anxiety start to heighten but I remind myself, “Don’t overthink this, they are probably in a hurry, heading the same direction as me, nothing crazy.”

As I pull into my driveway, the black truck passes by, slowing down it seems to look me and my house over. But, that’s crazy right? I’m just overthinking. I get in my house, kick my shoes off and look out the front window of my house. To my surprise I see the same black truck going by my house again… I shudder and pull the curtains. The rest of the night is smooth sailing, I grab a bite to eat, tidy my house and take a hot shower. While in the shower washing myself, I swear I keep hearing something, but I blow it off as probably the wind making noise. After my shower, I’m exhausted and need sleep immediately, I throw on an over sized shirt and throw myself into my bed. As I’m laying there my mind starts to hinder my sleep… “Did I lock the front door?” “I really should’ve went and got a new phone, what if I need to call someone..”, I blow these thoughts off and finally drift off to sleep.

“What the hell was that?!”, i whisper as I shoot straight up in my bed. I reach over to turn on my light beside my bed, nothing. Fuck. The power must be out. I shake my head, “probably was thunder…” i lay back down and try to find the will to fall back asleep. As my head hits my pillow. My eyes close and sleep takes back over.

I stir, as I find myself waking again. That’s weird, why can’t I move my arms. Wait, no really why can’t I move my arms?? I open my eyes and immediately they go the size of lightbulbs. My arms are tied to the top of my bed frame, a dozen candles fill the room, creating a eerie light that fills the space, and at the very end of my bed is a tall figure. He has brown hair, if not given the situation he would be very attractive, he’s wearing all black, I can spot a few tattoos on his right arm, a small hand reaching for a black hole, a pinecone, and a potion maybe? Fuck it’s too dark to tell, or maybe it’s my tears blocking my vision. On the left arm, it looks like a dragon of some sort. Finally I look up and meet his face, searching for his eyes. “Why are you here..?”, I croak out through tiny sobs.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle and sweet, “I’m here for you. Oh sweet angel, I’m here so we can be together. So I can take care of you. Didn’t you see me earlier, I followed you to make sure I knew exactly where to find you! I knew you felt the same when you left your front door unlocked, how sweet of you really.” Fuck. I didn’t lock the door. “No, I didn’t leave it unlocked for you, this is a mistake, let me out please, FUCKING LET ME OUT YOU BASTARD!”, I scream at him while trying to stop the tears that are falling. “No sweetheart, this was fate. Although I don’t think you have remembered your manners, but that’s ok, I can help you.”, he inches closer to me, pulling out a blade. “No I’m sorry, please I didn’t mean it..”, I start to plea at him. He stops right before me and grins slightly, “well that’s sweet, but I think maybe alittle refresher would help you remember for future reference..” The blade tears right through my sleep shirt, exposing my whole body to him in seconds. He then starts to trail the blade down my body till he gets to my thighs. “Open these for me wouldn’t you, please honey.”, he coos at me while eyeballing my body, like a predator…I guess that makes me the prey. “No please, please just leave, I’m begging you to please stop.”, I whisper in between broken sobs. “Not the answer I was looking for beautiful.”, he presses the blade into the plush of my thigh just enough to cause me to bleed. I gasp out from the new pain, and immediately I open my legs as I was told. “See, so much better when you listen to me. See how happy we can be if you just let me take care of you.”, he says as he licks the blood from my small cut.

“Now let’s see what I’ve been missing.”, he positions himself between my thighs and starts to inspect me like a forbidden fruit. Pinching my clit, spreading my lips, lightly running his finger up and down my slit. “Fuck, you really are beautiful, look how tight, how pretty and pink, fuck I think I’ll take alittle taste first princess… then we can get to the fun part.” He runs his tongue up my pussy before spreading me open and fully devouring me. Letting his tongue touch every crevice within me. Lapping at me. I cry harder as I try to hold on to anything that will lead him on that I am enjoying this. “Now let’s see how good you feel around me, god you’re so perfect for me..”, his voice trails off as he starts to unzip his pants, letting his cock spring free from his boxers. Panic. I start to kick my feet about and scream, cry, anything, someone please hear me. “Oh no, I thought you was coming around, no matter, it’s ok, shhhh, shhhh, I’m gonna make you see. See how much you need me. “, he says as he grabs my thighs, hoisting my legs in the air, spreading me open perfectly for him to use. I can see the anger on his face, no matter how gentle his voice is. Fuck. He takes and shoves his whole length into me in one long thrust. All I can hear is the scream ripping through me as I turn my face away from him. “Shhh, shh, it’s ok. Goddamnit you feel amazing around me, shhh let me just stretch you out for alittle while, then you can rest I promise.”, he groans in between thrust. He starts pumping into me at a pace that makes me lose my breath, fuck he’s fucking tearing me in half. God. “Look at me beautiful, i wanna see you’re pretty face while I brutalize this tight fucking pussy of yours.”, he demands as he slows his pace alittle. I can’t, I can’t meet his eyes, I refuse to give in to this. He grabs both sides of my cheeks and forces me to look him in the eyes. “I” thrust “said” thrust “to” thrust “look me” thrust “in the goddamn eyes” thrust “you pathetic fucking whore.”, he says while gritting his teeth, pulling completely out and slamming back into me with every word. A small moan leaves my lips and my fate is sealed.

“There we go baby, yes finally, I knew you would come around, god I can’t wait to love you like this, all the time, make you all for myself.” That did it for him, he’s fucking me at an unforgivable pace. His hands leave my face and travel to my chest, he starts pinching and kneading at my breast. Leaning up to suck on them. “Fuck I’m close, that’s ok, we have all the time in the world to do this all over again, fuck, gonna cum right here, fill you completely up, watch it ooze out of you when I’m done, fuck.”, he babbles on as his hips snap back and forth. “WAIT, no please not in me, please I’m not on any birth control, please don’t do this” I stammer out, trying to wiggle my body away from him. “Even fucking better, I knew you were fucking perfect.”, he slams in one last time before I can feel his cum spreading inside me, spilling out of me, covering my insides. “Now, I’m gonna let you sit just like this for awhile, catch your breath, rest if you need to darling, I’ll be back in a few minutes and we can start all over again, I know this is new but, you’ll learn to love it baby.”…… “who knows in a few days maybe I can take them restrains off and trust you to listen when I fucking say something.”, he says as he starts to tug his clothes back on. He looks back at me one more time before leaving the room. I lay there, lids half hooded, cum dripping out me, blood dribbling from my thigh, my hair sticking up in crazy ways, and tears staining my cheeks… “so fucking perfect for me.”

[darkenedroses-world]

Cooking Chaos — Pezzy x Reader

🔹 f!reader 🔹 clooless group 🔹 Possessiveness 🔹 Light Degradation 🔹 cooling 🔹 flour fight 🔹GN!Reader 🔹 lighthearted romance🔹 funny moments🔹 chaos🔹 Request 🦋

The kitchen buzzed with chaotic energy as the stream rolled on. Laughter and chatter filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of pots and pans. The plan was simple—make dinner live on stream—but with you, Grizzy, Droid, and Puffer at the helm, “simple” had turned into “anarchy.” Flour was already dusting the countertops, stray droplets of batter clung to the stove, and somehow a random spoon ended up stuck to the ceiling. Chat, predictably, was eating it all up, with messages flooding the screen.

This is a cooking stream? More like a destruction derby

Somebody please save that kitchen

10/10 stream, would hire them as my chefs immediately

You couldn’t help but grin as Droid accidentally splattered pancake batter across Puffer’s shirt. “Bro, seriously?” Puffer groaned, staring at the sticky mess. Droid shrugged innocently. “Just seasoning it with some chaos, man.” Grizzy was doubled over laughing as you attempted to take control of the situation—or at least, pretend to. “Okay, okay, focus!” you called out, trying to suppress your own laughter. “We’re supposed to be making dinner, not turning the kitchen into a crime scene.” “Too late for that,” Droid quipped, licking some batter off his finger. Then came the moment of truth—Pezzy left the room. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, his tone casual as he disappeared toward the hallway. You immediately perked up, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Guys, I have an idea.” Grizzy looked up from the pile of dishes he was pretending to wash. “Oh no. That tone never means anything good.” You smirked, pointing to the bag of flour sitting on the counter. “Flour. His face. Let’s go.” Droid grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. “Oh, I am so in.” “Wait,” Puffer interjected, though his grin betrayed his interest. “What’s the game plan here?” “Simple,” you said, your excitement building. “When he comes back, we’re all chill. Then, bam—flour to the face. But act like nothing happened, okay?”

Grizzy raised a skeptical eyebrow but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.” “Worth it,” you replied, grabbing a handful of flour. “This is for the greater good of content.” The moment Pezzy stepped back into the room, the kitchen fell into a suspiciously serene silence. You focused on stirring the pot in front of you, Droid hummed an innocent tune, and Grizzy busied himself with meticulously folding a dish towel. Pezzy froze in the doorway, his eyes narrowing. “Why does this feel like a setup?” “What?” you said, feigning innocence. “We’re just cooking.” “Yeah, real domestic over here,” Droid added, though the smirk tugging at his lips was a dead giveaway. Puffer, barely holding it together, cleared his throat. “Max, can you check the stove? Something smells weird.” Pezzy sighed, muttering something about the group being “too chaotic to function,” and moved toward the stove. That’s when you struck. With the precision of a seasoned prankster, you hurled a handful of flour straight at his face. Except, your aim was a little too good. The entire handful exploded across his face in a perfect white cloud, coating his skin, hair, and even his shirt. For a split second, the room was dead silent. Then Grizzy let out a wheezing laugh, doubling over as he clutched his stomach.

Puffer practically fell to the floor, gasping for air, and Droid had to grip the counter to stay upright. Pezzy stood there, frozen, blinking through the flour that now covered every inch of him. “You—” “I didn’t mean—” you tried to say, but you were laughing too hard to form coherent words. “You’re dead,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flashing with amusement. Before you could react, he grabbed the entire bag of flour and upended it over your head. “Pezzy!” you shrieked, your laughter mixing with a yelp as the bag emptied over you, turning your hair and clothes into a snowy mess. The chaos that followed was nothing short of legendary. Droid grabbed a handful of flour and flung it at Grizzy, who retaliated with a fistful of sugar. Puffer somehow found a bottle of chocolate syrup and squirted it across the counter, declaring, “It’s war!” The kitchen devolved into an all-out food fight, with ingredients flying through the air and everyone covered in a mix of flour, sugar, and who knows what else. Chat was going absolutely wild.

This is peak content

I haven’t laughed this hard in ages

Somebody clip the whole thing. ALL OF IT

When the flour had finally settled—literally—you and the guys surveyed the wreckage. The kitchen looked like a bakery had exploded, and you were pretty sure you’d be finding flour in random places for days. Pezzy, still dusted in white, shook his head with a laugh. “You’re a menace, you know that?” You grinned, brushing some flour from his hair. “And you’re just mad I got you good.” “Maybe,” he admitted, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “But I gotta admit, you make chaos look pretty damn good.” From the other side of the room, Droid groaned loudly. “If you two start flirting right now, I’m leaving.” Grizzy threw an arm over Droid’s shoulder. “Nah, let’s stay. This is the content chat lives for.” As the laughter started up again, Pezzy leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “Thanks for making this fun. Even if you did turn me into a human donut.” You smiled, brushing a bit of flour from his cheek. “Anytime, Max.”

[onechicagolife]

ABSENTIA | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner went missing undercover. While he never wanted to give up hope, the CPD assumed her dead and he was resigned to accept it. Now, two years later, Jay gets a sudden phone call with news that changes his life forever. Avery Clarke is alive. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Chapter 15

Jay rounds the corner to his apartment, exhaustion weighing down his movements as he drags a hand down his face. The last few nights have blurred together—hours spent in his truck with Avery, watching and waiting. They haven’t seen Nikolai again since that first night, which he’s not sure is a good or bad thing. Bad for their investigation, yes. But he couldn’t deny Avery’s reaction when she saw him for the first time. The way she completely froze, her shoulders tensing and her breaths quickening.

The cruelest part was that when Jay asked about it, she refused to tell him anything. And that every time he looks at her, he still feels everything. Being with her feels overwhelmingly familiar, too much like how it used to be. Because she sits back in the seat with her feet thrown up, she steals his coffee without thinking. She pushes his buttons, challenges him in the best and worst ways.

He knows he shouldn’t be spending so much time with her. He tells himself that he has to, even though he knows it’s not fair to Hailey. Knows it’s wrong that every night, as he sits in the freezing car with Avery, he doesn’t want to leave. That despite the anger, the confusion, the betrayal—he feels more like himself than he has in a long time.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Jay lifts his head and his stomach drops. Hailey is leaning against the wall outside his door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her ponytail sways slightly as she straightens at the sight of him, and the look on her face—anger barely concealing hurt—makes his breath hitch. Dinner.

He exhales sharply, quickening his steps as guilt settles heavy in his chest, “Shit, Hailey, I’m sorry.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “I called you,” Hailey says flatly.

His fingers tighten around his keys, “My phone died.” Lie. He turned it off.

She scoffs, shaking her head as she pushes off the wall. He sees the way her eyes glisten under the dim hallway light, the way her jaw tenses as she turns to leave. Panic flares in his chest. “Wait.” He reaches out, catching her wrist gently, just enough to stop her, “Just… come inside. Please.”

Hailey hesitates. For a second, he thinks she’s going to walk away. Maybe she should. Maybe he should let her.

Reluctantly, her feet stay rooted in place as he unlocks the door and opens it. He stands in the doorway, waiting for her with hopeful eyes. After a few moments, and against her better judgement, she steps inside.

Jay closes the door behind them, lingering for a second before he turns to face her. He barely gets his jacket off before she whirls on him.

“Where have you been?”

His shoulders sag. He should have known she’d cut right to it. “I’m sorry I forgot about dinner,” he says weakly, knowing full well that it isn’t good enough.

“That’s not an answer,” her voice rises slightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You’ve been blowing me off all week. You disappear after work, you don’t answer my calls or texts. You come in every morning looking like you haven’t slept. What the hell is going on with you?”

Jay rubs a hand over his face, already exhausted by this conversation. “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” she cuts him off harshly. “And don’t say you’ve been with Voight.” Hailey takes a deep breath, her anger cracking just slightly under something more vulnerable. Her voice is quieter as she forces out the next words, “Just tell me if you were with Avery.”

He hesitates. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to make her eyes harden. “It’s not what you think,” Jay says quickly, trying to reassure her that he would never.

She crosses her arms tighter, her nails digging into her skin. She didn’t think he was cheating, not really. She knows him well enough to know that. “Then what is it?”

His jaw clenches. He doesn’t know what to say. He knows she deserves to hear the truth, but he can’t bring himself to say it. “Hailey,” he swallows, “I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit,” she snaps, her voice rising again. “You don’t get to pull the ‘I can’t talk about it’ card with me. I’m your partner, Jay. I’m your girlfriend. You’re shutting me out, and I deserve to know why.”

His mind races, eyes desperately searching her face for some—any—hint of understanding. “I can’t tell you,” Jay settles on with a helpless half-shrug. “You just have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Hailey laughs—a bitter, broken sound—and narrows her eyes. “Do you even hear yourself?” When he doesn’t say anything, it only takes a few moments before realization washes over her. She lets out a disbelieving breath, “You’ve been helping her investigate Volkov.”

The way Jay tightens his jaw and clenches his hands into fists at his sides is confirmation enough.

“Jesus, Jay,” she shakes her head with a scoff. Hailey starts pacing, running both hands over her hair. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re putting your career—your life—on the line.”

“I’m not putting my life on the line,” he says defensively.

“You’re lying to me,” she yells at him. “You’re lying to Voight. You’re impeding a federal investigation. All for her.”

Jay flinches at her words, guilt and anger swirling in his chest. “It’s not that simple. She’s my—” he cuts himself off, the words dying in his throat. He swallows hard as the air between them thickens. They both know what he was about to say. She’s my partner.

Hailey stares at him, something breaking in her expression. She squares her shoulders, trying to hold herself together even as her voice wavers. “You know, I’ve tried to be supportive. I’ve tried to be understanding. But I’m not going to sit here while you lie to my face. I’m not going to sit here and pretend.”

He blinks, knowing that this conversation is going somewhere he doesn’t want, but he can’t stop it. “Pretend?”

She exhales shakily, bringing up a hand to quickly swipe away the tears she is so stubbornly trying to keep at bay. “You were shot,” her voice trembles slightly, but she forces it to steady. “You were laying there, and I was holding your hand. You said her name.” She closes her eyes as the memories wash over her. “I tried to convince myself that I heard it wrong. But I didn’t. And I know that you know I heard it. And you still haven’t explained why.”

The air seems to leave the room, and for a moment, Jay can’t bring himself to look at her. His mind flashes back to that moment. His throat tightens as he finally meets her gaze. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about her,” he admits even as it kills him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

The words hang heavy between them, and Hailey’s breath hitches. She blinks rapidly, trying to process what he just said. “So, what? You’re still in love with her?”

Jay inhales sharply at the question. He wants to tell her no. He wants to tell her he loves her, that she’s the one he wants. But he can’t. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice breaking. “But I know she needs me right now and I can’t…” I can’t leave her. I can’t say no to her. I can’t let her be alone again. “I have to help her.”

Hailey nods slowly, like she expected that answer but hoped she was wrong. “I love you, Jay,” she whispers, her face crumbling as fresh tears well in her eyes. “And I thought—” she stops herself, shaking her head as a tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t bother wiping it away.

His chest tightens, heartbeat pounding loudly in his head, “Hailey, I care about y—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, stepping back. “You can’t have both.”

The words cut deep. Jay opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her. But he can’t lie anymore. To himself, maybe. But not to her.

Her lips tighten into a thin line as she tilts her head, nodding slowly. “I’m done.”

He doesn’t stop her as she turns and walks toward the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet apartment. He can’t bring himself to, no matter how much he wishes he could. When the door clicks shut behind her, the sound feels final as it echoes throughout the apartment.

Jay sinks onto the couch, elbows braced on his knees as his head falling into his hands. He knows Hailey had every right to walk away. He can’t even blame her. And he’s left wondering how the hell he got here.

After hesitating for just a moment, Jay walked towards Voight’s office. He stopped in the open doorway, eyes bouncing between his sergeant and the other man in the room. His hands clenched so tightly where they hung at his sides that his knuckles ached. He had been called in without much explanation—just a simple order to come in from Voight. The urgency in his voice made his stomach churn with unease. And now, seeing Chief Lugo standing beside the desk Voight sat behind made his pulse quicken unnaturally.

“Jay,” Voight started gruffly. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dark, something resigned. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good.” His bosses exchanged a wary glance. Jay narrowed his eyes, “What’s going on?”

Voight didn’t speak at first, just cast another look towards the chief before sighing heavily. He opened a manila folder in front of him and pushed it forward on the desk.

Jay took a step and a half forward. Inside was a single, grainy photograph that made his stomach twist violently. It was a surveillance shot—a woman being dragged into a warehouse by two armed men. The image was blurry, the lighting terrible, but the height, the build, the hair—it was all too familiar. “Where did this come from?” he demanded.

Lugo spoke this time, his voice even, measured. “The FBI received this from one of their sources inside the Volkov organization. The timestamp places it three months ago.”

His breath stilled. Three months ago. Avery had already been missing for six. That meant she wasn’t killed on the spot like everyone else feared—she was taken alive. She was out there. Jay forced himself to focus, pulling himself away from the memories of that day. That day when he was too late. “So, what the hell are we doing sitting here? We finally have a lead, we go after it—”

Lugo held up a hand, stopping him cold. “The intel didn’t stop there.”

His heart pounded as Lugo flipped to the next page in the folder.

Unidentified female remains recovered from a Volkov warehouse overseas. Burned beyond recognition. No DNA match found.

Jay shook his head, immediately rejecting it. “No. No, that’s not proof. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Jay—” Voight started, his voice low.

“No.” He pushed the folder roughly across the desk, breathing hard as his chest tightened. “We’ve been through this before, and every single time, it’s led nowhere. You don’t have a body, you don’t have DNA, you don’t have—”

“The FBI is taking over the investigation into Volkov from Major Crimes. The brass agrees that the evidence is conclusive,” Lugo interrupted, his voice final. “Detective Clarke was likely killed while undercover. The case is being closed.”

The word rang in his ear, and his entire world stopped spinning. Closed. No. No.

He turned to Voight, his eyes pleading. “We don’t… we can’t just stop,” his voice cracked, barely managing to get the words out.

Voight held his gaze for a long moment, and that was when Jay knew. The fight had already been lost. The lines on Voight’s face looked deeper, heavier, and for the first time since Avery disappeared, there was defeat in his eyes. Even after Justin, he still hung onto the hope that his other child was still alive. But that hope was gone.

“It’s over,” Voight said quietly.

No. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his hands trembling at his sides. Jay shook his head, refusing to accept it. “No. No, you don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to just—just declare her dead without proof.” His voice broke, rage bleeding through the cracks.

“Detective—” Lugo started.

“No, fuck that!” Jay slammed his hands onto the desk, the sound echoing through the office. His entire body was shaking. “You don’t get to make this call! She’s out there, she’s waiting for us to find her, and we’re just—we’re just giving up?” His voice bordered on hysteria as he looked towards Voight in disbelief, “You’re just gonna let this happen? After everything—after Justin? You’re just going to let them give up on her?”

Voight’s breath hitched in his throat as he blinked, barely managing to hold himself together. He never allowed himself to break before, and he won’t do it now. He can’t. Chief Lugo’s jaw tightened as he cut in, “This isn’t giving up, Halstead. This is the reality.”

Jay let out a sharp, bitter laugh, taking a half-step back in a desperate need to distance himself before he lost control. Reality. The word felt like poison in his mouth. Nothing about this felt real. “You don’t know her,” he spat. “You don’t know Avery. She’s a fighter. She wouldn’t just let them—” he stopped himself, unable to say the words. Wouldn’t just let them kill her.

Chief Lugo sighed, straightening, “I understand the nature of your relationship to her. I know this is difficult to hear, but the department is making it official. Detective Clarke is being ruled as killed in the line of duty.”

His breath hitched and he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. This was it. This was the end. The fight left him all at once. His shoulders sagged, his knees suddenly weak, and for a moment, he thought he might actually collapse. He turned to Voight, his last hope. His voice was wrecked, desperate, “Hank.”

Voight’s face was etched with something almost like guilt. When he finally spoke, it was low and final. “It’s time to let her go.”

Something inside Jay broke. A sound tore from his throat—a ragged, guttural noise of sheer devastation—and he turned sharply, storming out of the office. He didn’t see where he was going. Didn’t feel the burn in his throat, the pressure behind his eyes, the way his chest was imploding in on itself.

All he knew was that he had to get out. Had to breathe. Had to escape the words still ringing in his head, threatening to tear down his entire world.

How the hell is he supposed to let her go? The woman he loved. The only woman he ever loved. She was gone. She couldn’t be gone. Jay picked up speed before bursting through one of the stalls just in time to hunch over the toilet, knees hitting the tile with a painful, sickening crack. His body convulsed as he gripped the porcelain with white-knuckled hands, waves of nausea wracking through him. His stomach clenched painfully, but there was nothing left to bring up. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last. His head was spinning, his vision blurring, the fluorescent lights overhead too bright, too harsh.

He felt like he was suffocating. Drowning.

The stall walls felt like they were closing in, pressing down on him and squeezing the air from his lungs. His entire body trembled as he sat back on his heels, his arms bracing against the sides of the stall. The cold tile bit into his knees, grounding him in a reality he desperately wanted to reject.

Avery was dead.

Voight believed it.

Chief Lugo signed off on it.

Major Crimes, the FBI—they all believed it.

The weight of it crashed down on him again, harder, heavier. A low, guttural sound ripped from his chest, something between a sob and a scream, raw and uncontained.

Six months of searching. Of fighting. Of holding onto hope—thin, fragile, fleeting hope—only for it to be ripped away in an instant.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He couldn’t breathe. Every inhale was a battle, every exhale a painful reminder that he was still here—and she wasn’t.

He could still hear her voice, so clear that it was as if she was sitting right beside him.

Well, it really is your lucky day, Halstead. Avery Clarke. Your new partner.

His throat closed up, another sob tearing through him. A thousand moments, a thousand memories flooded his mind, each one sharper, more painful than the last. He saw her everywhere. Heard her everywhere.

But she was gone.

A sudden burst of anger surged through him, cutting through the grief like a blade. His hands shook as he pushed himself up from the floor, his vision darkening at the edges from the force of his rage.

His fist flew before he could stop it. The bathroom mirror shattered on impact. Glass shards scattered across the counter, some embedding in his knuckles, but he barely felt the sting. His reflection was fractured, fragmented—just like him. He stared at it, his chest heaving, his pulse hammering in his ears as the blood dripped down his fingers, warm and sticky.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real.

The sky is still gray, the Chicago winter settling in thick and heavy as Jay pulls into the district parking lot. His truck rumbles to a stop, the engine ticking in protest as he cuts the ignition. He stays there for a moment, gripping the wheel with both hands, staring blankly at the brick wall in front of him.

He’s running on fumes. The sleepless nights, the weight of Hailey walking out, the relentless gnawing in his chest whenever he thinks about Avery—it’s all catching up to him. His body is sore, barely recovered, and his mind is wrecked. He doesn’t even want to think about what he is going to face when he walks in that building. And yet, somehow, the idea of stopping isn’t even an option.

Not when she still needs him.

With a heavy sigh, he grabs his gym bag from the passenger seat, shoving open the door and stepping into the biting cold. His breath clouds in front of him, but the crisp air does nothing to clear his head. He’s barely made it a few steps when he hears the familiar rumble of another engine pulling in. Jay glances up just as Voight’s black SUV rolls into a nearby spot. The older man climbs out, pulling his coat tighter against the wind, his sharp gaze landing on Jay instantly.

They both hesitate for a beat. A silent acknowledgment.

Jay sighs, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He knows what’s coming.

“You look like hell,” Voight remarks, shutting his door with a solid thud.

He huffs out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… it’s been a rough few weeks.”

Voight studies him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, instead of making his way to the door, he jerks his chin toward the entrance on the other side of the lot. “Walk with me.”

He exhales through his nose, knowing there’s no getting out of this. Jay falls into step beside the older man, their boots crunching lightly against the frost-dusted pavement. The silence stretches, bordering on uncomfortable as the cold air wraps around them.

Jay knows Voight isn’t the kind of guy to push, but when he speaks, his voice is steady, carrying that same unshakable authority he always has. “She told me.”

He doesn’t react right away, treading carefully. He keeps his gaze forward, hands still shoved into his pockets, “About what?”

“About you helping her,” Voight nods slightly. “About the deposit box.”

His jaw tightens. He shouldn’t be surprised but knowing what that secret cost him, that he lied to Hailey, makes his stomach twist in anger. “She wasn’t supposed to—”

“Relax,” Voight cuts him off, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not going to stop you.”

Jay frowns, glancing over at him. “You’re not?”

Voight gives a small shrug, “If I wanted to stop you, I would’ve done it already.”

He scoffs, shaking his head, “Then what? You’re just gonna let me keep breaking all the rules for her?” Maybe he wants Voight to stop them. To force him to walk away. Because he knows he’ll never do it on his own.

Voight stops walking, turning to face him fully and stopping him with a hand on his chest. “I’m here to make sure you don’t lose yourself in this.” His gaze is steady, unwavering. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”

Jay swallows hard, looking away. He exhales sharply, his breaths visible in the cold air. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore, Voight.”

Voight nods, like he’s been expecting that, “I know.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “I mean, jesus. I thought she was dead. And it took a while, but I made peace with that. And now she’s back, and it’s like—” he stops himself, shaking his head as frustration boils over. “Like I don’t even know her anymore.”

 “She’s been through hell, Jay,” the older man says after a beat of silence, “You know that.”

“What about what I’ve been through? What she put me through?” Jay lets out a sharp exhale, staring at the pavement, trying to keep his emotions under control because it is too damn early for this. “I’m trying to be there for her,” he mutters. “But it’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But nothing worth a damn ever is.”

Jay stares at him, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “She lied to me.”

“I know.”

“She let me believe she was gone. She didn’t give me a choice. Didn’t give us a choice.”

“I know,” Voight repeats, his voice steady.

Jay shakes his head, “And now she’s asking me to risk everything to help her with this.”

But Voight doesn’t flinch, “She’s not asking you to do anything she wouldn’t do for you.”

“That’s not the point,” he snaps, his frustration finally breaking through. Even though he knows it’s true, knows they’ve already been here before. Derek Keyes, Lonnie Rodiger, Terry, Ellie… She backed his play without question, without a second thought, whenever he needed it. She jumped in feet first, and he didn’t even have to ask. He takes a step back, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t forgive her for what she did, Voight.”

Voight studies him carefully, his next words measured. “You’re angry. And you should be. But that anger isn’t just about what she did.” He pauses, letting it sink in, “It’s about how much you still care about her in spite of it.”

The heavy truth in the statement is too much and Jay has to look away, clenching his jaw.

“I know what you went through when we lost her,” Voight takes a step towards him. “I saw what it did to you. And I know you’re still carrying that with you. If anyone understands, you know I do.” A haunted look flickers in his eyes, memories of Justin and Alvin threatening to swallow him whole.

Jay swallows hard—two years of emptiness, of staring at an empty grave that shouldn’t exist, of drinking himself into numbness just to get through the night. “She’s not the same,” he murmurs. His voice is quieter now, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “She’s… harder. Colder. She refuses to let me in. And I don’t know how to reach her.”

Voight exhales, nodding slowly. “I know she’s different. And so are you.” He holds his gaze, “But if anyone can get through to her, it’s you.”

Jay lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head, “Why?” Why does it have to be me?

Voight’s voice is unwavering, “Because she trusts you. Because you know her better than anyone.”

Jay stiffens. His throat tightens, his stomach twisting in protest. He wants to argue, wants to deny it. The words are on the tip of his tongue. Not anymore… But they don’t come out. Because maybe, just maybe, Voight isn’t wrong.

He looks down, his hands curling into fists in his pockets, “I don’t know if I can do this, Hank.”

“You can.” His voice is gentler, in that gruff, Voight way as he claps a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring, “And you will. Because she needs you. And whether you want to admit it or not… you need her too.”

He stands there, frozen, as the words sink in. Jay doesn’t know where he and Avery stand. Doesn’t know if there’s a way forward. But as he watches Voight walk inside the garage, his words echo in his head.

Because she needs you. And you need her too.

Jay exhales, his breath shaky. Then, finally, he heads inside.

The locker room is quiet, a stark contrast to the usual chaos of the district. Jay leans against the metal bench, head tilted back against the cool lockers as he lets out a slow, controlled breath. He should be at his desk. He should be doing something productive, catching up on paperwork. Instead, he’s here, hiding.

Avoiding.

It’s been like this for days. Ever since Hailey left his apartment, ever since their relationship officially crashed and burned. Every second between them is tense and awkward, leaving him wishing he was anywhere else. And when they aren’t forced to be interacting for work, he can feel her gaze watching him. Studying his every move, every interaction. And Avery? That’s been worse.

She hasn’t done anything wrong. No probing questions, no comments, no knowing looks. Nothing. She’s just there, in his space, existing like things are supposed to be normal when nothing is. And even though it shouldn’t, even though he should be more affected by the dooming of his relationship, that kills him more than anything.

Because of that, he’s been keeping his distance at work, making sure their conversations stay short. Professional. But it doesn’t matter. He can feel his partner’s eyes on him whenever Avery’s near, can see the tension ripple through her every time he and Avery so much as breathe in the same direction.

And now? The guilt is suffocating.

So he’s here, in the goddamn locker room, hiding like a coward.

The door creaks open, and he immediately straightens. He’s not sure who he expects, fearing it’ll be Hailey with another conversation he’s not ready for, fearing she’ll tell him that their partnership is over too. But instead, Adam strolls in, his expression casual but his movements deliberate.

“Got a minute?” Adam asks lightly, but there’s an edge behind it.

Jay narrows his eyes, already bracing himself for whatever’s coming. “Yeah.”

Adam doesn’t sit. He stands across from him, arms crossed, lips pressing into a thin line before cutting straight to it. “What’s going on with you and Avery?”

Shaking his head with an eye roll and a scoff, he stands and moves to root around inside his locker. “What are you talking about, man?”

“You drove her to work this morning,” the younger man says with an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

“She had a migraine last night and didn’t want to drive, so I gave her a ride home,” he lies without skipping a beat. The reality is that they left straight from work to spend the night in his truck, watching the warehouse for any sign of Nikolai Volkov, both of them pretending the distance between them wasn’t getting growing with every second of silence.

Adam eyes him, his protective side outweighing anything else. He can’t stand to see his best friend get hurt when she is just barely finding her footing. But he can see how much it’s killing her. He lets out a long sigh, “Look, I get it. I know it must’ve hurt when she wanted me to be her partner and asked for some space. I know you want to be friends. But if this is going to mess with her head—”

“Mess with her head?” Jay cuts him off, his voice rising slightly as he turns to face him. “I don’t need a lecture from you of all people.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, annoyed at whatever implication lingers in the air.

Jay tilts his head, gritting his teeth painfully. He wonders just how much he can push this, how far he can stretch the lie in order to get the truth. “She told me what happened between you two,” he says carefully, baiting.

Stiffening, his eyes flicker with surprise for a brief moment before he schools his expression. She said she wasn’t going to, but maybe she changed her mind once he decided to tell Kim, wanting a clean slate as they try to make their relationship work. Adam narrows his eyes, “She told you?”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenches, knowing by the reaction that he was right to suspect something happened between them. “So don’t sit here and act like you’re just her protective big brother.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Adam shakes his head defensively, his frustration mounting.

Jay crosses his arms tightly over his chest, “Then what was it like?”

“It was,” he hesitates, “complicated.”

He throws his head back, barking out a humorless laugh. “Complicated? Kim’s having your kid, and the best you can do is complicated?”

Temper flaring, Adam grits out, “It was one time. It was right after she came back, we were drinking—”

“That makes it better?” he shoots back with a step forward.

“Look,” his patience snaps, voice rising, “she needed someone. Someone who actually gave a damn about her when she was falling apart. Where the hell were you?”

The words nearly knock him off his feet, and Jay stops breathing for a moment. His hands curl into fists, because he can’t think about that. He can barely stomach the guilt he is already feeling. So instead, he focuses on the pure anger that threatens to overtake him at the image that flashes behind his eyes. “So, you—what? Decided to help her with your dick?”

Adam’s face darkens, his fists twitching at his sides. “Oh, fuck off, Halstead. You weren’t there. You didn’t see how broken she was seeing that you moved on.” His voice lowers, but the intensity remains. “So yeah, I was there for her. Not for some hookup. Not for whatever bullshit you think this is. But because I actually care about her. And maybe if you weren’t lying to yourself, wrapped up in your own guilt, you’d see that too.”

The jealousy, the frustration, the anger—it all collides, white-hot and uncontrollable as the words are like a match to gasoline. Jay doesn’t think. His fist collides with Adam’s jaw before he even realizes it. The impact reverberates through his arm, fingers flexing at the dull ache already forming.

Adam stumbles back, his hand flying to his face. His eyes blaze with fury as he whirls back around. “Bro, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts, shoving the other man’s chest roughly.

“Hey!” Avery’s voice slices through the air, her footsteps echoing as she storms into the room. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Both men freeze, their heavy breathing filling the silence as Avery moves between them without hesitation, her eyes darting between their tense, furious faces. Her gaze locks on Jay, narrowing as she takes in the flush on his face and the way his fist is still clenched. “Did you punch him?” she demands sharply.

Jay doesn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he finally breaks away from Adam’s glare. But he can’t look at her, can’t see what he knows is in her waiting eyes.

Already knowing the answer, Avery scoffs before rounding on her partner. “And you—what did you say to him?”

Adam rubs his jaw, moving it back and forth gently. “Nothing he didn’t deserve.”

She groans in frustration, running a hand through her hair, fingers getting caught in the tangles. “Unbelievable. You two are supposed to be professionals, friends, and you’re in here fighting like children. Over what? Me?”

When Adam opens his mouth, she places a strong hand against his chest with a light shove that forces him a half-step back, and Jay tries to hide the fact that he notices. “I don’t need you to defend my honor,” she chastises, only turning away when he lowers his head sheepishly. Avery narrows her eyes at Jay, “What is your problem?”

Jay’s eyes finally snap to hers, his frustration and jealousy lingering below the surface. He grits his teeth, his pulse still pounding with the low hum of adrenaline. He knows this isn’t about Adam. Not really. It’s about… everything. The distance, reminding him that he doesn’t know her anymore. The nights spent in his truck, twisting him into thinking that no time has passed. The way she keeps looking at him like they didn’t leave each other in pieces. Like she didn’t leave him in pieces, shattered like that blood-smeared glass.

Clearing his throat, Adam’s voice is quieter now, more resigned. “I’m gonna go.” He throws Avery one last glance before turning and walking out, his footsteps heavy as the door clicks shut behind him.

Avery doesn’t take her eyes off Jay, her frustration crackling in the stale air. “I told you to stop making this about Adam,” she seethes. “You don’t get to pick fights with him just because you’re pissed at me.”

“You really think this is about Adam?” he asks, voice low and rough as he takes a step toward her. She folds her arms, but there’s something else in her eyes now. Wariness. Hurt. A challenge lingers, though, and Jay huffs out a bitter laugh when she just arches a brow, shaking his head before dragging a hand over his face. “You really don’t get it, do you?

“Then enlighten me,” she bites out quickly. She thought they were over this. That they were moving forward—or at least settling into something more tenable, an understanding that they could co-exist in.

He takes another step closer, the heat between them palpable, the space between them charged with everything they still haven’t said. “You come back from the dead, and you act like I’m the one who changed,” he grits out. “Like I’m the problem. You push me away, tell me we need distance, and then what? Drag me back in like this is some kind of game?”

She flinches, just barely, but it’s enough for him to see it. “You think I planned that?” Avery snaps, stepping toe to toe, pretending like she isn’t afraid. Not of him, no. But of them—the two of them, together. “You think I wanted to wake up in a hospital bed with two years of my life missing?”

His jaw clenches impossibly tight, the pain somehow grounding him. “Then why the hell have you spent every second since you came back acting like I’m the one who left you?” Her breath hitches audibly, but Jay doesn’t stop. He can’t. He’s done holding this in. “You chose Adam as your partner. You kept your distance. It took days for you to come see me when I almost died, and then you just walked out,” he spits out, his voice breaking. “And now you want to act like I’m the bad guy? When I’m still putting everything on the line to help you?”

Deafening silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. Her lips press into a tight line, her hands clenching at her sides. “You think this has been easy for me?” she finally whispers, her voice shaking. “I know what I did, the choices I made. But I didn’t choose to have my entire life ripped away from me.”

His chest tightens as tears well in her eyes, “Avery…”

“No, you don’t get to be the victim here,” she says, voice raw, stepping even closer until there’s barely a breath between them. “You didn’t have to wake up in a nightmare. You didn’t have to piece together a past you don’t even remember. You didn’t have to see the man you—” she stops herself, sucking in a shaky breath before continuing. “The man you thought was still yours, standing in the hallway, holding someone else’s hand.”

His throat goes dry at the realization. She saw him. She woke up confused and hurt. And instead of opening her eyes to him at her side, she saw him with Hailey.

“I woke up like it was one day,” Avery’s voice breaks.

His hands tremble at his sides as he swallows roughly, “Ave.”

Her face twists, her walls slamming back into place. “You want to be mad at me? Fine. But don’t you dare pretend like you’re the only one who got hurt.”

Jay looks away, his jaw tight as he forces himself to breathe. She’s right. Of course she’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“You should go,” she mutters, stepping back in desperate need of space. “Before we say something we can’t take back.”

But Jay doesn’t move.

He should. He knows he should.

Instead, he does something stupid.

He reaches out.

His fingers brush against her wrist, and she sucks in a sharp breath, her entire body going still. Her pulse beats wildly under his fingertips, and for a second—just a second—she lets him hold on.

Then she yanks her arm away like he’s burned her.

“This isn’t fair,” Avery whispers, voice barely audible.

Jay swallows hard, “No. It’s not.”

She takes another step back, putting real distance between them now. “We can’t keep doing this.” I can’t keep doing this.

He exhales slowly as something twists in his stomach. A heavy, overwhelming sense of dread. Finally, he nods, “I know.”

Neither of them moves. Neither of them leaves.

The locker room door creaks open again, and they both snap their heads toward it.

Kevin’s slightly wide-eyed gaze flicks between them, eyebrows raising high into his forehead. “Uh… is this a bad time?”

Blinking rapidly, Avery shakes her head before turning on her heel and forcing a smile. “No. I was just leaving.”

Jay watches her go, his stomach dropping as she pushes past Kev without another word.

The bass from the speakers pulses through Avery’s chest, the thrum of the music matching the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat. The bar is crowded, bodies pressing together on the dance floor, voices raised in laughter and conversation that blurs into a dull roar. She sits at the bar, her half-empty glass of whiskey in front of her, the amber liquid catching the flashing neon lights that paint the room in shades of red and blue.

Her head was heavy, spinning slightly as she takes another sip, the alcohol burning its way down her throat. It doesn’t taste good—not really—but it helps. Helps blur the sharp edges of her thoughts, dulls the ache that’s been clawing at her chest all week.

She hasn’t talked to Jay since their fight in the locker room. Since he grabbed her wrist. Since she yanked away. He hasn’t come to the stakeouts the last two nights, leaving her to sit in her car alone, the silence screaming at her. He hasn’t offered, and she hasn’t asked.

She should be glad. Should be relieved.

Instead, she feels like the tight coil that was barely holding her together is unraveling.

More memories have been coming back every single time she closed her eyes, jagged and painful, clawing their way to the surface no matter how much she tried to bury them. Her mind flickers to Nikolai, to the sound of her own screams echoing in that cold, damp room. To his voice, low and cruel, asking her over and over, Who are you?

Avery squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her fingers to her temples as if she could will the images away. But they are relentless, invading her thoughts like a storm she couldn’t escape. Everything feels tangled and messy, her emotions an unbearable weight she can only lessen with alcohol.

She hates herself for how much she thinks about Jay. Every moment they spend together feels like a lifeline, but it also reopens old wounds. She thought she was doing the right thing by pushing him away, by letting him move on with Hailey. But now, she isn’t sure. She misses him. But it’s clear how hurt and angry he is. She doesn’t know how much longer they can do this back and forth before one of them breaks, shatters into so many pieces that it’ll be impossible to glue back together. What they have now isn’t sustainable, not in this job. Not with both of them in this unit.

“Avery.” The voice comes from beside her, smooth, familiar. She blinks, looking up to find one of the club’s regulars Mark—or maybe Matt?—leaning against the bar next to her. His lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you here again,” he says, tilting his head as his eyes rake over her. “You good?”

She forces a smirk, even though her stomach is twisting. “Do I not look good?”

He chuckles, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small baggie. A few little white pills clink together inside. He holds it between two fingers, offering them to her like a gift. “Here. This’ll help.”

Her breath catches in her throat, her pulse quickening as her eyes narrow in on the bag. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up, her hand curling tightly around her glass as she fights the urge to reach for it.

It would be so easy. One pill. One small pill to take the edge off. Just enough to forget. To stop the memories, the guilt, the pain.

The man leans closer, taking out two of the pills and slipping them into her hand, “On the house. You look like you could use it.”

Avery stares at them, rolling them in her palm experimentally. The urge is a living thing, crawling up her throat, sinking its claws into her skin.

Just one.

She needs to get out of here. Slamming her palm on the table, she quickly jumps to her feet. His words of protest come, but she doesn’t hear it. She’s already backing away, shoving through the crowd of drunk people, her breaths coming painfully fast.

Her feet carry her out of the club and into the cold Chicago night, the icy air slapping her in the face. Her hands shake as she digs her phone out of her pocket. She barely registers what she’s doing, who she’s calling. Her fingers move on autopilot.

The call rings twice before Adam picks up, his voice groggy, “Hello?”

“Can I come over?” she asks, her voice hoarse, barely above the pounding of the music that can still be heard from the sidewalk.

There’s a pause on the other end, then a quiet sigh. “Yeah. Of course.”

She nods even though he can’t see it, mumbling a quick, “Be there soon,” before hanging up. She stares at the screen for a moment, her breath hitching, before she slips the phone back in her pocket. Avery’s feet start moving before her mind can catch up, the wind biting into her skin and sobering her up just slightly. With every step, she has to fight the desire to turn around. To go back inside that club, back to that guy and back to those magic little pills that can take away all the hurt and the anger and the guilt.

The streets are quiet, the snow falling softly around her as she makes her way through the city, still on edge. Her breath comes in short, visible puffs, her boots crunching against the frozen pavement. She doesn’t know what she was going to say when she gets there. She’s still pissed at him for starting a fight with Jay. How am I the bad guy when I’m the one who got sucker punched? His disbelieving voice rings in her head making a small smile tug at her lips, just enough to distract her for a moment.

When Avery reaches the apartment building, she stares up at the brick and blinks slowly, trying to make sense of her fragmented thoughts. She bites her lip, realizing that she probably shouldn’t be here. Before she can decide to cut and run, though, an older man with a dog opens the door and she slips inside with a casual smile. Her mind races as she climbs the stairs, the beat of the club’s music still thrumming under her skin. By the time she reaches the door, her breathing is shallow, her emotions a tangled mess. She raises her hand, hesitating for a split second before knocking.

prev . . . next

[lunanoc]

it's that time again

[shotmrmiller]

another thing i had in mind for ex husband simon was that this time you're more resistant. no touching, no nicknames that make you weak-kneed, nothing. divorce means divorce, and the wedge that split the two of you up would probably still be there.

fine by simon, he follows the rules to a T. hands to himself, polite greetings and only talks about the children. maybe for a birthday for the boys, he takes the family shopping for gifts since it's a tuesday and there won't be any party or whatever and when y'all come back home, the lights are on.

they'd been off when y'all left. simon quickly opens the middle console and pulls out his weapon and tells you to get in the drivers seat. should anything come running out, pedal to the metal.

a little bit of time passes, you're about to be driven crazy with anxiety but simon finally comes out, except he's empty handed.

comes to the side and opens the driver door. "whoever was in there is gone. probably hopped the back fence. i've already called the guys."

you're a sobbing mess because how dare someone come into your home? your sanctuary? what if-

and you come to a startling realization. what if you and the boys had been here? alone?

simon's looking down at his phone, and furrows his brows. "i gotta go get-" but you don't let him finish, trembling fingers grabbing the front of his shirt. "you cant leave us here. don't leave me alone. don't- just please. stay."

you're too upset to resist his embrace or correct him when he calls you sweetheart. the guys get there eventually, price and gaz waste no time in sweeping the area and you, accompanied by simon, tuck the kids to bed.

price calls it later, that the place seems to be clear. nothing really taken nor left behind. they all leave, johnny and kyle deciding to stay overnight across the street their car and simon also turns to bid you goodnight, except you don't let him.

you practically beg him to stay, that you won't feel safe without him here. the couch won't do because he's too far away, what if whoever that was comes in through the bedroom windows.

you seek comfort in him and in the dead of night, he whispers promises into your ear as he slides home. promises to keep you safe, to keep the kids safe. that he'd let nothing ever happened to you, not while he still lived and breathed.

when you're finally dozing, with his spend drying in between your legs, he grabs his phone and texts johnny that it's done, they can go home now.

johnny responds in seconds, telling him that he tore his very nice jeans jumping that rough hewn fence of theirs and that simon owes him a new pair.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly II

~ part 2 of the Dolly series

pairing: seungmin x afab!reader

genre: smut, college au

synopsis: your friends found it funny to buy you a sex doll and pose it in your bed to prank you.

wc: 7.7k

warnings: alcohol, thigh riding, handjob, cum tasting, unprotected sex, hand kink, nipple play, creampie, mentions of crying, choking, edging, spanking, hair pulling, pussy slap, oral(m), fingering

a/n: thank you @jehhskz for helping with the premise of this one🥹💕

~ maybe you'd like: Hyunjin dolly

~ divider by @bunnysrph

Another sleepless night.

Staring at your laptop screen, the letters start blurring and bleeding into one another, making the headache behind your eyes throb even more.

Exam after exam, you're becoming more jaded, feeling like you're high out of your mind when it's just lack of sleep.

As you scroll through a page you're researching for your paper, an advert pops out.

"Sex dolls?" you chuckle and click on it, even if it looks a bit shady.

You're taken to a stylish site, black background with big neon green letters asking you "What's your vibe for today?", and you scoff.

"Try dead inside." you say out loud and the letters flicker before disappearing, new text appearing on the screen, making you gasp.

"Feeling sarcastic, are we?" - it says and you shriek, quickly exiting the site and deleting the history.

How the fuck did it hear you?

Did they hack your laptop?

You hoped not, because being a broke student means you have no resources to buy a new one.

With a groan, you continue doing your assignments well into the late hours, forgetting completely about the sex dolls and the freaky website.

You fall asleep, excited about the party you were invited to this weekend, to finally have some way to blow off steam and relax.

-

The room is totally spinning.

You are totally spinning.

You can hear your friends laugh on your left but your tiredness coupled with the alcohol you had in your system made you feel drowsy.

You're not sure but it seems that your friends are pointing at you and whispering, giggles leaving their lips and you frown.

They're known for pulling pranks on you, and you'd hoped they would at least leave you be when you're intoxicated and vunerable.

"What?" you almost bark at them.

"Nothing." one of them says with a snicker.

"Ugh. I'm leaving." you stand up quickly, which was a mistake as all the blood rushes through your system and the room starts spinning faster.

Your friend and roommate Edie, is quick to grab you before you face plant into the coffee table.

"I'm coming with ya. Don't want you to break your bones somewhere on the way home." she shakes her head and you nod, bidding goodbye to your other friends and letting her lead you out.

The walk to your shared apartment is short, the house of the guy who hosted the party wasn't too far away from your building or the campus.

The chilly evening air helps you refresh your mind and sober up a little.

"Are you gonna eat dinner?" Edie asks when you step into the apartment.

"No, I think I'm just gonna go shower and sleep." you say and she nods.

Before you left the kitchen, you swore you could see her smirk a little.

Shrugging, you make your way to your room.

Edie stops what she was doing, setting the plate down as she listens.

One, two, three...

And you scream, followed by a few thuds and curses.

"What the fuck?!" you grab the nearest book but the man on your bed doesn't even move or blink.

Edie giggles behind you, before it bubbles up and becomes full on laughter.

"What is this?" you demand, already annoyed at her.

"That is Seungmin, your sex doll."

"My what?" you almost choke on your spit.

"We were gonna scare you and prank you with him but we thought he would also be a good early birthday present. Since you know, you only ever study and stay at the apartment. This way, you can have him as a companion." she explains, and you lower the book you were gonna hit her with.

"Please, don't be mad at us." she grimaces.

"Why does he look alive?" you look back at the doll, gulping as shivers run up your spine.

"I don't know, it's some new technology, I guess. Isn't it so cool though? There was a letter in the box he came in with. I put it there on the nightstand, together with the manual." Edie informs you.

"Y'all are crazy and he's creepy. But, thank you? It must've been expensive." you shake your head.

"Well, the six of us got some money together."

"Still, crazy." you chuckle and she laughs.

"I'll leave you to it." she wiggles her eyebrows, closing the door of your room as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

You bite on your lip, observing the doll as it stares off into space.

"You're too creepy and you're not watching me change." you mumble and grab your blanket, throwing it over the dolls head.

"There." you say and strip, loving the perk of this apartment as both you and Edie had your own bathroom attached to your room.

You go about your night routine, now almost completely sober as you make your way back to your room.

You almost forgot about the doll, your heart dropping in your stomach for a moment.

"Fuck." you chuckle at yourself, your hand on your chest.

Cautiously, you sit next to the doll and remove the blanket.

He looks the same as he did before, as your friends presumably set him up, propping him up on your pillows, his legs straight and his hands in his lap.

He was dressed kind of sporty but chic, with a plain white shirt, a blue jersey jacket and ripped jeans, a dainty silver necklace adorning his neck.

Simple, yet effective, the doll looked more handsome the more you looked at it.

His hair looked fluffy, his eyes seemed warm, his lips soft.

You especially liked his hands, delicate and tender.

He looked sweet, if he was a real human being you're 100% sure everyone would swoon for him on the campus and he'd probably be the it boy.

You wondered how he looked so real, it almost seemed as if he was going to wake up any second and start talking to you.

You sigh and grab the letter, opening it up.

Hello,

my name is Seungmin and I am your mischiveous doll.

I love making you laugh and teasing you, because nothing makes me as happy as seeing your smile or your cute face when you're annoyed.

Please, play with me a lot as I tend to get bored, and no matter what you do with me, always end it with a kiss on my forehead.

Hope you come to love me as much as I already love you.

"Oh, you're a little prankster doll, aren't you? How funny of my friends." you sigh with a smirk playing on your face.

"I swear if you fucking move, you're flying out the window." you threaten, convinced you could see a faint smirk on the doll's face.

A paper sticking out of his jersey pocket grabs your attention and you take it out.

My cutie!

I got dressed for our first date!

Hopefully you like the outfit I chose, and enjoy playing with me tonight.

"First date? Who the heck made this?" you're perplexed, when suddenly you remember the ad from the other day.

"Oh my god." you jump up quickly, running to your laptop and searching.

You don't have to search too long as the site pops up immediately and you click on it.

"Wow!" you gasp as you look at the selection of the dolls.

You had no idea each one was a unique model, and that only one of them was made for some kind of experiment with new technology.

You turn to look back at Seungmin and chuckle.

"Okay, I gotta give it to my friends. They did give me a unique gift." you sigh.

Reading back over the site, there isn't much information and as you research a little bit, you can't find out much about the company that made the dolls.

It was as if it appeared out of thin air with technology so advanced that it had you confused, who could've made this and how?

Maybe even more important, why?

After turning up with nothing, you decide to check out the manual.

WARNING!

If there are any malfunctions with any part of the doll, please contact our services.

The doll can bathe in water except the charger opening.

Please do not disfigure or mutilate the doll.

Do not throw the doll into the trash.

Do not break, cut or bruise the doll.

If you're not satisfied, you can always return it to us and get your money back.

If you've purchased our Seungmin doll, do not forget to play with him as he can get lonely and sad.

Hope you enjoy the playful soul you chose!

"Lonely and sad, huh?" you stare at the doll with pursed lips.

Turning a few pages, the doll's 'abilites' come into view and you feel your ears burning in embarassment before you close the book quickly, tossing it aside.

"My friends are a bunch of perverts." you chuckle, laying down next to the doll.

"You better keep your hands to yourself, doll." you slide under your blanket, all the tiredness from tonight finally catching up with you.

Seungmin sits quietly as you turn off the light.

Waking up the next morning with a yawn, you stretch and your hand smacks into something solid.

Gasping, you lift up and see the doll sitting quietly just like he did last night.

"I forgot about you." you exhale before plopping back down in your pillows.

Curiously, your eyes travel over the doll's frame.

It's dead quiet in the apartment, meaning that Edie probably already left for her classes and you sit up, turning your attention to Seungmin.

Tentatively, you reach out your hand and poke the doll's cheek.

"Oh, wow!" you exclaim, poking him again. "You feel real."

Slowly, your fingertips caress his cheek, before you start carding them through his hair.

"Honestly though, my friends do know my type. If you were a real guy, I would stare at you from the distance and wait for you to ask me out." you chuckle a little before shaking your head as you retract your hand.

"I'm talking to myself." you get up and decide to get ready for your classes, leaving the doll be.

You feel like you're being watched the whole time as you rush through your room to gather your things, and an uncomfortable shiver runs up your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

"Alright. You're creeping me out again." you throw the blanket over the doll like you did yesterday, and then you get ready.

"Behave. I think." you tilt your head and then exhale with a chuckle as you leave your bedroom, leaving Seungmin alone under the blanket.

-

It's past 5pm when you finally step foot back into your apartment.

You call out to Edie but it seems she wasn't home.

Shrugging, you enter your bedroom to find Seungmin still covered up with the blanket.

"Damn. Okay, you didn't come to life." you toss your bag down and make your way to the doll.

"I left you alone for a long time, didn't I?" you say as you remove the blanket and lean in closer to take a look at Seungmin's face.

For some reason, you think he might be frowning.

"Hey, I have real life things to do. Don't frown at me like that."

The doll is quiet.

"You want me to play with you? What does that even entail? Are we playing or are we playing? Because I'm not doing any of that weird shit." you wave your finger at the unmoving doll, realizing you're probably crazy for even talking to it.

"I'll think of something after dinner." you mutter to yourself.

After a much needed shower, you make your way to the kitchen to eat some dinner.

As you're eating, you suddenly hear what sounds like a giggle.

It feels like your heart stops beating for a moment as you sit up straight and listen.

It's quiet, except the music playing from your phone.

Maybe it was just in your mind.

Yeah, probably.

Edie arrives home shortly after, giving you a shit eating grin.

"So, did you try out the doll?" she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"No. I don't know, it feels weird... and wrong." you grimace and your friend laughs.

"If you don't want him, let me give it a go." she winks and you laugh.

"Seungmin is my gift, okay? Don't touch him." you wave your finger and she snickers.

"Feeling territorial, are we?"

"N-no!" you blush instantly.

"Don't worry, y/n. I won't touch your little boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend! He's not even alive!" you yell after her as she giggles all the way to her room.

You sigh and make your way to your room too.

"Alright. I don't know what you mean by playing but I'm too tired to do anything. Maybe a movie?" you talk to the doll.

As you get no answer, you decide to just get ready for bed and grab your laptop.

You make yourself comfy under the blanket, your eyes turning to look at Seungmin.

"Ah. I'm probably crazy but I do need a few cuddles." you shrug as you sit up, your laptop on the side.

Pursing your lips, you slowly take off his jacket and put it aside.

"Oh wow." you gasp as you notice the little hairs on his arms, moles here and there, as if it's real skin.

You touch his arm, it's smooth and soft... comforting, even.

Your hand runs down to his and you grab it, your fingers entwined with his.

For some reason, you crave touch even more now so you adjust him to lay down and make him comfy on the pillows before you grab your laptop and put it on his stomach.

You lean your head on his chest, putting his arm around you as you search for a movie.

"If anyone sees me like this, I would die of embarassment." you sigh as you press play on a random movie.

Even though Seungmin's skin feels real, and he feels somewhat warm, it's quiet when your ear presses against his chest, there is no heartbeat to lull you to sleep.

It weirds you out but at the same time it's comforting to have someone next to you.

Oh no.

Your favorite shirt is gone.

You rummage through your whole wardrobe, knowing it's surely where you left it last time.

Edie probably took it, you think and stomp your way to her room after you close the wardrobe with a thud.

You miss the little smirk on Seungmin's face and the way his eyes followed you to the door before stilling again.

"Edie! Where is my favorite shirt? The red one with the yellow sun? I told you to ask if you wanna borrow stuff!"

"What? I never took that shirt. It's ugly anyways."

"Girl, don't call my favorite shirt ugly." you whine while she giggles.

"Sorry, I don't wanna hurt the shirt's feelings." she puts her arms up in fake surrender and you roll your eyes at her.

Coming back to your room, you're stopped in your tracks as you notice the shirt thrown over Seungmin's thighs.

You stand and stare at him quietly, your mind trying to process this because you know for a fact that it wasn't there before.

Slowly making your way to him, you narrow your eyes as you snatch your shirt away from him.

"Is this how you wanna play? Seungmin, the mischievous doll?" you raise your eyebrow.

He seems to be smiling slightly at your sarcastic tone.

"We'll talk about this later." you threaten and run to your bathroom to get ready for classes.

It was only the beginning.

A few weeks have passed since your friends got you Seungmin, and by now you kind of got used to him.

You couldn't really fall asleep unless you were hugging him and every morning when you opened your eyes you would give him a soft kiss to his forehead, just what the letter asked.

You were convinced that there was more to Seungmin though, as your things would disappear or be moved around, only to reappear later, making you frustrated at his playful antics.

Edie was bugging you constantly about using the doll for its actual purposes and one stressful weekend of studying before exam season was all you needed to snap and find a way to let out your frustrations.

Exhaling loudly, you turned to look at Seungmin, your fingers tangled in your hair and pulling in frustration.

It must be 3am by now, you think and decide to get up and take a hot shower.

Luckily, Edie was away, visiting her boyfriend so you had the apartment all to yourself and could make as much noise as you wanted to.

In your tired daze, coupled with the hot water on your skin, you felt a familiar throb in your core.

Your fingers danced on your skin, going lower until you stopped and gasped.

Seungmin.

Maybe it was time to try the doll's abilities.

After you finish rinsing off, you wrapped a towel around yourself and made your way to your room.

Seungmin is propped on your bed in his shirt and boxers, you stripped him a few days before, wanting to be more comfortable when you hold him, the stiff jeans fabric annoying you while you sleep.

"Well. It's just us, I guess." you say as you stand in front of him.

"Fuck it." you let the towel slide down to the floor, your eyes following it and not noticing the spark lighting up in Seungmin's gaze.

"Well, it's not fair that you're dressed." you pout and make your way to your doll, stripping his shirt first and biting your lip as your eyes roam all over his chest and stomach.

You slide his boxers off next, his semi-hard cock popping out and you gasp, did he get hard just from you being naked? If so, how?

Completely flabbergasted, you stared at him.

He never looked more real than in this moment and you felt your arousal gather on your pussy and coat your inner thighs.

"I must be ovulating." you chuckle at yourself and straddle the doll's thigh.

His muscles were firm under your wet pussy and you whined, slowly fucking yourself against Seungmin's thigh.

His cock seemed to react strongly to this, growing, the tip becoming red and angry and your eyes flutter as you practically drool at the sight of his length.

You wrap your hand around him and whimper when you feel his heaviness in your hand, and the warmth radiating off of him, how he twitches against you, beads of pre-cum appearing at his tip.

You don't even want to analyze and think how they made him this real, in this moment all you want is to play with him and find some relief for yourself.

You squeeze his cock a little before giving him a few languid strokes.

"Ah, fuck!" you moan, riding his thigh, your wet pussy leaving trails of arousal on his skin.

You lean in closer and press your lips to his neck, kissing his skin and inhaling his scent that mixed with yours from so many days of just cuddling him.

Seungmin's fingers twitch next to him but you don't notice as your lips dance on his skin, kissing him, your tongue darting out to taste him, your teeth grazing against his nipples.

This seems to make his cock even harder and you smirk, your hand playing with his nipple as you jerk him off faster, still riding his thigh and bringing yourself closer to your release.

You read the manual before, and you know his nipples are sensitive, the more you play with them, the closer he gets to cumming.

You decide to be evil and bring the doll to the edge, before retracting your hands and giggling as you grind on his thigh faster.

"Ah, Seungmin!" you moan out as you bounce on him, and his eyes fall down to your tits bouncing in his face, but again you don't notice since your head is thrown back in full ecstasy as you cum all over his thigh.

"Mm. So good." you whine, needing more, so you throw your leg over him, grabbing his cock and sliding down on his length in one go.

"Ah, you're so big baby." you coo at Seungmin and start bouncing on him, his cock filling you up deliciously and hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

"You like my tits, hm?" you notice that they're right in front of him so you grab his head and smush his face into your chest as you continue fucking on him.

You lean back to look at his face and you swear there's something in his eyes as you hold his cheeks in your palms and slow your hips.

"You're enjoying, aren't you?" you whisper and lean in to kiss the doll, his lips moving with yours as if he's kissing you back and you almost get lost in him.

Gently taking his hands in yours, you kiss his fingers, licking and sucking on them as you gyrate your hips against him.

"I love your hands." you mumble against him, taking two of his fingers in your mouth and sucking on them, staring intently at the doll's face.

You can feel his cock twitch inside you as you clench around him, working his fingers deep in your hot mouth, holding his other hand on your breast.

There's definitely something in his eyes, you note as you bring yourself closer to your high.

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing with your whole being he would wake up and touch you everywhere, his hands burning imprints on you, wrapping around your neck, pulling on your hair, spanking you, marking you as his.

With that, you moan loudly, your pussy gripping his cock before you spill your juices all over his length, riding out your high, your fingers on his nipples, pinching and pulling.

"You wanna cum, Seungminnie?" you coo at him. "You pleased me well, you can cum." you add with a particularly strong pinch and it's like he heard you, his cock twitching inside you before he exploded, spurts of hot cum filling you up deeply.

"Ah!" you moan at the feeling, your eyes rolling back as you wrap your arms around him.

After taking some time to calm down, you grab Seungmin's face and press a sweet kiss to his forehead.

"I'm glad you're here, dolly." you whisper.

Exam season was riding you hard, coupled with essays and projects you had due, you felt extremely stressed.

You were barely eating and sleeping, the only light in your life was your dolly, Seungmin.

All of your friends were in the same predicament as you, so none of them had the time or the will to hang out.

It was like a struggle happening between you and all your obligations, and you were losing the battle.

Just one more paragraph, you thought as your tired fingers ran across the keyboard, your eyes bloodshot and hair a mess, your entire body stiff with stress.

You felt worn out but every now and then you would glance back at the bed and a small smile would spread on your face upon seeing Seungmin waiting for you there.

A few days ago, you had come home to find little hearts drawn in your notebook, knowing it had to be Seungmin since Edie wasn't home then and couldn't possibly be pranking you.

Maybe you wouldn't admit it to your friends but you loved Seungmin, even if he was just a doll.

For the few months you had him, you had grown attached to him; you talked to him about your innermost thoughts and feelings instead of writing them down in your diary.

You always watched movies with him, and after the movie ended you would play with him, exploring his body and wishing he could do the same to you.

You know it's probably crazy, but to you Seungmin is alive, and seeing those heart doodles only confirmed that there was more to him than you initially thought.

And you were right.

Breaking down into tears of frustration that night, you crawled into bed a sobbing mess, your arms wrapping around Seungmin instictively, holding him tightly as you cried into his neck.

You fell into a deep slumber while Seungmin listened to you cry yourself to sleep, your tears soaking up his shirt.

He couldn't stand it, his heart began to beat erratically as he started taking in shallow breaths, his hand gripping at the sheet below him as he tried to gasp for breath.

He shivered against you, his eyes were wide and trained on the ceiling above him as he slowly got his heartbeat and breathing steady.

Miraculously, you didn't feel a thing and kept sleeping as he slowly came to his senses.

The first thing Seungmin felt inside his body was thirst and hunger, his stomach growling, making him feel dizzy as he clutched onto you.

I need to get up!, he thought to himself before slowly rolling out of your hold and falling down on the floor with a thud.

"Ow." he muttered and his head popped up to check on you but you were still fast asleep.

A sad smile spread on his face, you were so exhausted and it hurt him.

Seungmin gathered all his strength as he staggered to the kitchen, drinking a few glasses of water, only feeling a bit more normal after that.

He rummaged through the cabinets, having watched you cook multiple times, he knew where everything was.

Deciding it was fastest to make some instant ramen, he did just that, almost burning himself in the process.

He was so hungry he couldn't think straight, he had no idea what was happening, who exactly he was even though little snippets of memories were running through his mind, he couldn't remember anything clearly except the memories he shared with you.

Seungmin didn't have answers to any of his questions, but there was only one thing he was sure about.

He loves you.

So, after he finished eating, Seungmin sat down in your room, opened up your laptop and worked all night tirelessly to finish up your essay and project.

He was going to make sure you get your much needed rest while he helps you pass your exams.

-

Slowly waking up in the morning, your hands instantly reached out for Seungmin.

With your eyes closed, you started moving your hand around your mattress only to realize that it's empty.

You freeze, dread washing over you before you open your eyes, blinking and looking around the room.

"Oh my god!" you all but scream when you see Seungmin, your Seungmin, the doll, sitting at your table, his upper body leaned on it as he sleeps.

You can hear and see that he's breathing and you don't know how to react, frozen in complete shock.

Quietly, you get up, tippy-toeing your way to him, you lean down to look at his face.

He looks adorable, his face smushed against your papers, his hand on the keyboard of your laptop and the other in his lap.

His eyes move under his eyelids, pretty lashes caressing his skin, his body rising with the breaths he's taking in.

"S-Seungmin?" you place your hand on his upper back, your fingers twitching a little.

"Hm." he hums a little and you chuckle.

You're supposed to feel scared, mortified even; but you feel giddy to finally see him look at you, talk to you, touch you.

"Minnie?" you try again, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

His eyes flutter open, and he's confused for a second before his eyes widen at the sight of you.

"Y/n!" he exclaims, sitting up suddenly.

"You're alive. How?" you ask as you observe him.

"I- I woke up last night. I saw how you were struggling, how exhausted you were and I couldn't take it anymore."

"You saw... everything?" your heart beats faster.

"Y-yes." Seungmin nods, the tips of his ears becoming red. "It was as if I was in a state of sleep paralysis, and kept fighting to wake up."

"So you heard everything I said, felt everything I did?" you ask, for some reason the knowledge that Seungmin was actually present during every time you played with him, made you squeeze your thighs together and he noticed, the redness from his ears spreading to his neck.

"Yes." he says and you laugh in disbelief.

"This is insane! Wait, what are you doing at my table?" you remember suddenly and he chuckles awkwardly, playing with the end of his shirt.

"I- uhm... I finished your essay and project. Don't worry, I didn't fuck anything up! I worked on it as if it was you." he says and suddenly your eyes water.

"Minnie. You're so sweet. I'm so happy you came to life." you throw your arms around him and he gasps, his heart jumping in his chest.

He can't believe you didn't freak out and turn away.

Not only that you didn't turn away, you sat in his lap as he tentatively put his arms around you.

You held him tighter, making him melt into you.

Leaning back, you grabbed his face and started kissing him.

"Y/n, wait- you're not freaking out?" he stops you suddenly, an insecure look in his eyes as he observes your face.

"No, I knew you were alive. You hid my stuff and played pranks on me the whole time." you narrow your eyes at him and Seungmin chuckles awkwardly.

"Oops?" he grimaces and you laugh.

"Make it up to me, please." you whisper against his lips and Seungmin can't deny you.

He presses his lips on yours, his hands on your lower back, bringing you closer to him and making you grind against his lap.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel him grow under you, and you can't help it as you start grinding against him.

All the times you played with him, you wished he'd wake up and just take you, and here he was now.

"Please, Minnie. I need you so bad." you moan and Seungmin smirks against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your ass as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth at the same time.

He swallows all the sounds you make, his tongue exploring every inch of you as he lifts his hand and smacks your ass.

You jolt a little, pressing against him harder, feeling his cock twitching against your wet core.

Seungmin gets impatient, his hands grip the back of your thighs and he lifts you up, carrying you to your bed as you clutch onto him.

"I fantasized about this so much." you gasp breathlessly as he kneels between your legs, grabbing your ankles and pushing your knees to your chest.

"About what exactly? Tell me what you need, y/n." Seungmin's eyes are dark and filled with lust.

You shiver, biting on your lip as you feel more arousal soak your panties.

"I want you to be rough with me, please. Just do whatever you want." you whimper making him smirk.

"Anything you need, darling." Seungmin leans down closer to you, pressing his lips on yours hard and forcing his tongue in as his hand comes up to grip your throat.

The sound that comes out of you and travels into him, makes him grow impossibly hard in his boxers.

He squeezes your throat a little as he kisses you hard, taking your breath away and you dig your nails in his arm, your middle lifting up towards his and brushing against his hard member.

Seungmin presses down on you, slowly grinding against your wet panties as he leans back and grips your throat harder.

Your eyes flutter as you completely give into him, his gaze is fixed on you and how you're so willingly letting him hold your life in his hand.

When he releases you, you gasp for breath and grab at him.

"Fuck me, please Seungmin!" you groan and he slides your panties down as you rip your shirt off fast.

He chuckles at your eagerness, getting rid of his clothes too.

He presses his lips on your neck, his pretty hands exploring your body just how you wanted him to, fingers playing with your nipples, running over the dips and valleys of you.

Your whole body is on fire, your core is throbbing to be touched and it's like he senses it, his hand sliding between your legs to cup your pussy.

"S-Seungmin!" you whimper as he starts sliding his fingers on your wet folds, brining them up to your clit and pressing into it.

"Is this all mine?" he smirks darkly at you, torturing your sensitive clit, his other hand worshipping your breasts.

"Yes, all yours!" you moan as he slaps your pussy, a wave of arousal rushing through you.

"Please!" you beg, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

"I love when you beg like that." Seungmin says, pushing his fingers inside you and you whimper as your pussy sucks them in eagerly.

"You always did what you wanted with me. Not that I mind that, but it's my turn now." he smirks, finding that gummy spot inside you and fucking slowly into it.

"Mm..." you moan as he pinches your nipples, teasing you with slow moves.

He speeds up, only to slow down again, driving you insane as your body yearns for release.

"P-please, let me cum." you whimper and Seungmin chuckles, withdrawing his fingers from you.

All those times you edged him were coming back to bite you in the ass as he decided to take his sweet time with you before giving you what you want.

You whine but before you can protest more, you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, running over your folds and teasing your clit.

You're a moaning mess as he slowly pushes in, only the tip breaching your hot cunt.

You wait for more but realize with despair that he is going to tease you until the very end as he starts fucking you only with the tip of his pretty cock.

"Oh my god! Please!" you whine.

"Be quiet and take it." he says, his hand wrapping around your throat once more, squeezing as his tip goes in and out of you, then runs over your folds, smearing your arousal everywhere, playing with your tortured clit.

You give in, spreading your legs more as you hold them open for him while he tortures you.

"That's it. My good girl." Seungmin praises you and you whimper as he lets go of your neck.

You're about to beg for more but Seungmin leans back before grabbing you and turning you around on all fours.

"Oh!" you exclaim as he spreads your legs with his.

"I know what you want, darling." he chuckles lowly behind you before pushing into you harshly, making you take his entire length in one thrust.

"Ah!" you whimper as your pussy clenches around him immediately, not wanting to let him go.

Seungmin grunts, spanking you fast and hard a few times before he grabs your hips and starts fucking into you with an unforgiving pace.

You gasp for air as your grab the headboard, making the bed shake with the movement of your bodies.

His hand tangles in your hair and he pulls as you cry out, not being able to hold it in anymore, you cream around his cock and his eyes roll back, his hips stuttering as he releases inside you, filling you up with his hot load.

"Oh my god." you whimper, collapsing down as both of you breathe hard and he wraps his arms around you.

"That's what you fantasized about, hm?" he whispers, lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes." you say, breathless.

Both of you are quiet for some time before you face each other, breaking into shy smiles.

"I love you, Seungmin." your hand is on his cheek, and then in his soft hair as you caress him.

"I love you so much, y/n. What I feel for you woke me up, because I couldn't stand just watching you go through all the stress alone." he says as you hold each other.

"I wasn't alone, you were always there." you retort with a smile.

Something more gentle settles between you, and the two of you cuddle quietly, enjoying in each other's presence.

You stay like that for some time before you decide to clean up and eat breakfast.

Walking into the kitchen, you don't even notice Edie who turns around and upon seeing you walking in with Seungmin, she shrieks, taking a step back as her face morphs into a look of shock.

"What the fuck?!"

"Calm down, Edie." you chuckle.

"Calm down?! He's - he's alive! How?!" she keeps freaking out.

"I woke up-"

"He talks!" Edie interrupts him and you start laughing.

"Oh my god, Edie. No, we don't know how he woke up either and how he's alive." you say with a chuckle.

"Do you remember anything, Minnie?" you turn to Seungmin and he seems to blush at the nickname, fiddling with his fingers as if he didn't just rail you in the bedroom thirty minutes ago.

"Snippets. I remember this cold place, some kind of droning sound. Water too, maybe? And there were others. But I can't remember their faces at all. I just know they were there."

"Others?" Edie purses her lips and then grabs her laptop hurriedly.

"Them?" she types quickly before turning the laptop towards the two of you, the familiar site presenting the sex dolls on her screen.

Seungmin gasps, his lips trembling.

"T-that... that's them! They were there with me. In the cold room." Seungmin suddenly hugs himself and you can see he's becoming distressed.

Quickly, you reach towards the laptop, closing it and putting your arms around him.

"It's okay, take a deep breath." you say softly as you caress him.

"How about we finish our exams this week and then all of us try to find out what actually happened to you, Seungmin?" Edie offers and he nods.

"I'd like that." he says. "Just... I never want to go back there. I don't know why but it feels horrifying."

"Don't worry, I won't let anyone take you away from me." you smile at him, kissing his cheek gently.

Your exam and presentation week pass by smoothly, with the constant help and support of Seungmin, everything was easier.

He insisted on sharing your burdens, always reminding you to take care of yourself, preparing you warm meals while you studied and listening to you yap about what you learned for practice.

Your friend group all came to see Seungmin and they adored his personality instantly since he was a little shy with them but clearly adored you, they congratulated themselves for finding the perfect guy for you.

As the week came to an end, after a good night's sleep and a warm breakfast, Seungmin, Edie and you sat on your living room floor with your laptops, the manual and Seungmin's letter.

All three of you went through the letter and manual multiple times, like some new information would appear and help you understand where Seungmin came from, how did he suddenly come to life, why did the usb opening disappear when he woke up, why can't he remember anything.

The site wasn't much help either, it only had pictures of the dolls, info about them written in a similar fashion as Seungmin's manual was.

Nothing about the company except that they had advanced technology they were proud of testing.

After hours of research, you came up with a big fat nothing.

"I can't believe there's nothing on the net about this company!" Edie threw her hands up in frustration.

"There's something fishy about all of this." you let out a sigh as Seungmin looks at you.

"I'm really trying hard to remember more." he says.

"I know you are." you smile at him, caressing his face. "How about we take a break?"

"Sounds good to me. I'm meeting my lover for lunch anyways." Edie smiles.

"Hey, thank you so much for helping, Edie." you smile at her and she chuckles.

"Of course! What are friends for!" she exclaims with a giggle.

-

"I want to thank you for everything you've done for me." you whisper while you and Seungmin cuddle.

He smiles as you lift up before burying your face in his neck and kissing his soft skin.

"It was my pleasure." Seungmin takes in a shaky breath as your tongue darts out to lick at his sensitive spot before you sink your teeth into it.

"Y/n." he whimpers, grabbing at you.

"And it will be my pleasure to show you how grateful I am." you smirk at him, his eyes hooded as he observes you.

You lift his shirt up, taking it off and tossing it aside, your lips attaching to his skin instantly.

You leave kisses on his collarbone and chest, your tongue playing with his nipples, teeth grazing the sensitive buds.

Seungmin relaxes, letting you kiss his stomach, all the way down to the bulge in his boxers, where you press a kiss to his head.

"Ah, y/n." he whines, lifting up into you.

You only smirk, hooking your fingers in his underwear and pulling it down, watching his cock spring free, pre cum beading at the tip.

You need to taste him, tongue on him immediately before you wrap your lips around the head, sucking on it gently.

"Shit!" Seungmin moans, his hand tangling in your hair and holding you down.

It's clear to you that he's slowly taking control as he lifts his hips up, pushing your head down at the same time and making you take more of his length.

Your eyes flutter, enjoying the way he uses you, fucking up slowly into your mouth and you hold onto his thighs as he grips your hair and pushes in further.

You gag a little when you feel the tip of his cock bullying its way to the back of your throat and your pussy clenches.

You squeeze your thighs, looking for some friction as Seungmin keeps fucking up into you harder and faster.

"Fuck, you're doing so good, baby." he moans, his body trembling for a moment.

You choke on his length but he doesn't let up.

"Just a little more, and then I'll give you my cum." he smirks and you whimper around him, your cunt throbbing.

Your hand sneaks on his inner thigh only to grab his balls, squeezing them and massaging them and Seungmin snaps, his hips jolting as he releases hot spurts of cum inside you.

Your eyes close in pleasure as you swallow, your pussy dripping arousal on your panties.

"Please, Minnie. Please, touch me." you're desperate as you pop off of him and he shushes you, lifting up and laying you down.

He strips you quickly, his lips on your skin, finger on your wet cunt.

"So eager for me, aren't you?" he smirks, dipping just the tips of his fingers inside you.

"Y-yes, ah!" you whimper when he flicks your sensitive clit.

"Such a good girl." Seungmin coos at you, plunging two of his fingers inside you, his other hand stimulating your clit as he massages it and pinches occasionally.

Being the little tease that he is, he pulls his fingers out any time you're close to cumming, just to watch you writhe in frustration, your little pussy clenching around nothing.

He doesn't let you cum until he's reduced you to a crying, shaking mess and by that time you are so fucked out that you can't even speak.

You clench around his fingers before exploding all over his hand, squirting as his dark eyes observe you.

When he retracts his fingers, you grip his wrist, bringing his hand to your mouth as you swirl your tongue around them, cleaning them up and sucking on the digits.

"F-fuck." Seungmin whines.

Before he can lean down to kiss you, your phone starts ringing.

"Let it." he begs.

"It's Edie." you say quickly, ignoring the throbbing in your core. "Hey." you pick up as Seungmin catches his breath.

"What?! Okay, thanks for the heads up!"

"What's going on?" Seungmin looks at you worriedly and you quickly shake your head, grabbing a few tissues from the nightstand to clean yourself up.

"Edie and her boyfriend were in a diner and saw the news on tv, you were on it, and the other dolls. The company said that all the dolls have some kind of malfunction and that they're taking them back-"

"They wanna take me away from you?" Seungmin's lower lip trembles.

"You know I won't let that happen." you say as you open your laptop, typing in the site.

"It's gone!" you exclaim, the only thing that's popping up when you type the url in, is an error message.

"Shit, they're gonna come for me! I can't be here. I- I need to leave." Seungmin starts panicking suddenly.

"Seungmin, please, it's gonna be okay. I will-"

"No, y/n. It's too dangerous. It's best if they don't find me here. I don't wanna get you mixed up into anything."

"Minnie, I'm already mixed up into it. Because I love you and I won't let them hurt you." you grab his shaky hands.

"But-"

"No, we will do this together. I'll fight them, I swear. Just promise me you won't leave." you beg, squeezing his hands.

"Fine. I promise. I love you so much, y/n." Seungmin kisses you, the kiss feels like a goodbye to you but you don't want to dwell on it, the hope in your heart is not dying yet.

But, that night when you fall asleep in Seungmin's arms, he breaks his promise.

Having an inkling that whoever created him in the company has a tendency of being cruel, he didn't want you anywhere near that.

With a heavy heart, he looked at your sleeping face, caressing you and pressing his lips to your forehead and then your lips, he whispered his confession of love and disappeared into the night.

As he wondered next to the road, a car rolled closer and Seungmin lifted his thumb.

The car slowed down and when he looked into the passenger's seat window, a reflection of a familiar face stared at him in shock...

~taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @juskz @quokkacidal @chuuyaobsessed @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @lixies-favorite-cookie @thelostprincessofasgard @linocvp1d @stayjinnie @portgasdbru @lilgothhishhh @selinia86 @felixsbabe @staytinyluva @sadroses98 @katexstay @gnabnahcsworld @hazelbazil @iwannahugchangbin @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @skzfelixlove @skzjen @syedazarintasnim @geektacularmommom-blog @cookiesnmilfx @kayleefriedchicken @stxt-bby @strykdsstanot8 @hyunjinhwang2018 @binniesbabygirl @hyunjiniretti @linavc @julciaqwerty @salemluvsmusic @diipsy @gwinamsgirlfriend @sofix-hc7 @poptrim @queerpumpkinnn @redlikemysoul @hyunjinslefteyebrow @frehyun @minluvly @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung @sushiinmidnight @rei-reia @thequibbie @sblack91511915 @channiesfavitem @edevotion @leeknowinggg @charlieg1rl @spookwyrdie @estella-novella @alaskaortiga @hyunjinsruinedpainting @lucywindigo @miniverse-zen @sky00ung @rosekpopfanfic @maysoka @pixiiebutt @beaquokka @bookswillfindyouaway @cosmicrecs @seungiee-3 @blrzzz @minniesverse @o-0i @lee-knows-cats @ms-flowergirl @hyunjinhoexxx @lattyjiji @onlyleeknowsss @courtnort455 @qwonyoung23 @oreoqueen @nightmarenyxx @hongtyong @lashaemorow @1810cl

[kvroomi]

it's 9 o'clock in the evening when atsumu barges into your bathroom while you're taking off your makeup

“hey, babe, yer phone’s charged, right?”

his voice breaks through the quiet hum of your evening, pulling your attention away from the bottle of moisturiser you'd been trying to open for the past 5 minutes. you glance up to find him leaning in the doorway. his black dress pants and light blue button-up are long gone, now replaced with a large white t-shirt and his obnoxious 'world's best setter' boxers that he must've left in the dresser you bought for him when he started staying over more often.

“yeah, why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

he holds up his phone with an exaggerated sigh, the screen dark. “mine’s dead." he sighs and you look at him confused.

"i was gonna call ‘samu—messaged me somethin’ about the shop. think he forgot to order noodles or… or whatever. can i borrow yours for a sec?”

you furrow your eyebrows, skepticism creeping in. atsumu wasn’t exactly known for prioritizing osamu’s last-minute “emergencies” unless they directly concerned him. “can’t you just use the landline?”

“the landline?” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“what am i, a fossil?" you turn your gaze back to the mirror with a roll of your eyes.

"c’mon, babe, it’ll only take a minute. please?”

you stare at him and he stares back, the two of you locking eyes in a silent standoff. atsumu, for all his dramatics, was never great at hiding when he was up to something.

alas, as much as you wanted to pry, you also didn’t have the energy to argue over something so trivial when it was so late into the day.

“okay,” you breathe out, followed by a long sigh as you hand your phone over.

“just don’t mess with anything.” your eyes narrow threateningly.

“mess with things? me?” he shakes his head around, feigning shock. “never. yer phone’s in the safest hands imaginable.”

that already should’ve been your second red flag—though before you can even question him, he's got his back turned halfway out the door yelling “thanks, babe! yer the best!” over his shoulder.

a brief fifteen minutes have passed, which you only vaguely realise in the haze of beginning your book. you're comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch when he strolls into the living room. plopping your phone onto the cushions beside you and pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head—he pokes your cheek.

“yer a lifesaver,” he says with a grin, flopping down beside you. “what would i do without ya?”

you offer him a glance, “what did osamu need?”

“huh?” you notice his grin falter. it's a split millisecond, but he's quick to cover it with a casual wave of his hand. “oh, somethin’ about… rice.”

you squint at him, trying to read his face. “i thought you said noodles earlier?”

“rice, noodles—same difference,” he says, getting up and walking over to the fridge to pull it open. “food stuff... y’know how he is.”

you let out a hum, satisfied with his answer. and just like that, the moment passes. your attention is drawn back to your book while atsumu rifles through leftovers.

it isn't until later that night when you're climbing into bed and reaching for your phone to set your alarm that you notice. the screen lights up, and instead of your usual photo of cherry blossoms, you're greeted by him—a photo of atsumu.

and it's not just any photo of atsumu, though. this one was pure chaos.

his entire face filled the frame, nose slightly scrunched, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and his golden-brown eyes wide with faux innocence. his lips were puckered in an over-the-top kissy face. across the bottom of the image in bright, white text were the words: “miss me yet, babe? ;)”

your jaw drops.

“what the—?” you're immediately sitting up and unlocking your phone, going straight into your photo gallery. what you find only makes your disbelief grow, (and maybe your heart too, out of fondness).

the first photo was relatively tame: a selfie of atsumu sprawled out on the couch with his head sitting in his hand with a cheeky and flirty smile. of course, you think.

the second was him in the doorway of the living room with his finger pressed to his lips in a "shh" gesture while you sat on the couch, engrossed in your book.

and then things get progressively more ridiculous, (assuming that's even possible).

there's a close-up of atsumu holding up your favorite snack with an inflated, brash grin, almost as if he was offering it to you. the caption reads: “this one's for you, babe."

another captured him perched on your desk chair, holding your pencil like it was a quill. his nose is scrunched again, an attempt to portray his concentration as he pretends to scribble something brilliant.

it's the final photo that stops you in your tracks.

it's atsumu stood on the balcony, wrapped in your favorite blanket like a superhero while his arm stretched dramatically toward the sky. the caption read: “protector of this household and defender of snacks ;)”

you stare at the screen in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. quite frankly, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to laugh or cry.

atsumu was many things: he was ridiculous, he was almost always over the top, and he was also occasionally the most infuriating person you’d ever met. but, there was one thing for certain—he was undeniably, wholeheartedly yours.

many people don't understand him the way you do. atsumu hadn’t just messed with your phone for the sake of it—he’d left you a trail of love notes that were neatly tucked behind each photo’s absurdity. it was his way of saying "i’m here, even when i’m not," without actually saying the words verbally.

and it worked.

you didn’t text him right away. instead, you curled under the blankets, scrolling through the photos again and again. your heart swelled with every outlandish caption, every childish expression, every trace of him.

eventually, you couldn’t help yourself.

you: you’re a menace.

his reply was almost instant: atsumu: a menace with a pretty face, though. miss ya, babe x

you beamed, your thumb hovering over the lock screen settings, conflicted between whether or not you should switch back the photo. though how could you? not when you already knew tomorrow would bring another excuse for him to check your phone again, just to see if you’d kept it.

so you decide to leave it—his face on your lock screen as a proud display of the world’s most unconventional love letter.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you please do a part two of the Sebastian fluff where he lets his thoughts get the best of him and gets anxious that reader now sees him as a monster because of what they read on his document so he prepares extra good items and plans to give them heavy discounts and even some free but reader barges in like

"MANTIS SHRIMP??? PUNCH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW"

And after a bit of reassuring(possibly some punching too bc reader is too starry-eyed for him to say no to em) Seb realizes he trully never had anything to worry about and just, generally grows fonder of reader?

Ps. Adore your writing, keep up the awesome work!!

"God, why did I let them take it? Stupid, stupid, stupid.."

Sebastian couldn't stop beating himself up, even though he knew he shouldn't care about the opinion of any human sent by Urbanshade--especially one of the "expendable" class.

Yet because it was you, specifically--who was currently in possession of his document--he began to wonder what you'd think of him once you found out the truth:

That he was nothing but a horrible monster. Plain and simple.

If not the knowledge that he was a hideous chimera of several sea creatures' DNA...then surely the revelation that he caused the lockdown of the Blacksite would ultimately make you resent him.

He released all those creatures, who stopped at nothing to prevent you from reaching the crystal and had you running, fighting, or hiding for your life.

He was responsible for all the injuries you've sustained while crawling into his shop, desperately needing a medkit and a place to rest.

He would understand if you'd never want to visit him again after what they documented about him..but the image of your furious expression and overthinking the words you'd possibly say to him left him feeling incredibly anxious.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself gathering more supplies. Medkits, code breakers, and every light source he had currently in the shop, trying to market down whatever he could. He was even willing to let you take batteries for free...which was something he'd never normally do.

Would it be enough to make up for everything horrific you discovered about him and the terrors he indirectly put you through? Absolutely not.

Was he willing to try it anyways just for the small chance that you'd keep visiting him? Maybe.

No other human has shown him a single ounce of kindness or gratitude for his services. Nobody except you, of course, and he refused to lose that.

-thump, thump-

"Shit.." He froze, hearing movement in the vent duct, hands trembling for his light to shine brighter. Part of him wishes he could stay in the dark, as he didn't wanna see your face and whatever hurt expression it could possibly hold.

But he knew it'd be rude if you actually needed to buy something, so he forced himself to look as your familiar figure crawled out of the small opening. You seemed out of breath, like you were just running from something, and stood up to dust the dirt off your pants.

"Sebastian..I need to know something, and you need to be 100% honest with me."

The moment you pulled out his document, the shopkeeper could feel his heart sink.

"Wh..What did you want to know?" He asked, already bracing himself for the worst.

You sounded dead serious, and he was convinced you were finally going to let him have it.

You were going to force him to explain himself and his actions, and tell him what a monster he truly was. Literally and metaphoric-

"Its it true that you have mantis shrimp DNA????"

Silence.

Of all the possible outbursts he expected from you, that certainly didn't cross his mind.

Sebastian just stared down at you, utterly dumbfounded. He blinked several times, unsure if he was truly seeing the wide smile and starry-eyed look on your face.

He had been waiting for a deep scowl, eyes full of anger and betrayal and sadness that he wasn't the "friend" he claimed himself to be when you first visited his shop.

Yet now? He saw nothing but pure delight in your expression.

"Um..yes. But of alllll the things you read about me, that shocked you the most?" He was still treading carefully.

"Well, it sucks that you were an innocent guy who got thrown into a shitty situation." You gestured to him, frowning a little. "And I'm sorry you never saw justice, but...it's just SO cool that you're part mantis shrimp!" A grin returned to your face. "They've fascinated me for years! I used to watch videos of them all the time. Did you know the velocity of just one of their punches is equal to a .22 caliber bullet-?"

"Stop." He put a hand up, huffing. "At least some part of you must resent me. I mean...helloooooo, did you skip over the bit where I'M the reason those monsters are after you?! There's no way you could've ignored that..unless your brain turned off the moment you read "mantis shrimp"."

"I read everything, Sebastian." You huffed back. "Look, if I ever had to go through what you did..I think I'd wanna rebel, too. And as much as those monsters scare me, they've probably endured the same experiments as you. They probably felt just as trapped and afraid. You must see at least a few of them as your friends, right?"

"Eyefestation and the PAInter are the only ones I consider "acquaintances"." He answered after a long pause, shoulders slumped. "The anglers are primitive, but they recognize me as the one who freed them, so they don't bother me or my shop. The only creature that tends to be an issue is-"

-thump-

-thump-

Tensing, you looked over your shoulder to see a Wall Dweller emerge from the vent behind you, its mouth split open and drooling with hunger, standing on two legs.

"-that." Sebastian glared at the creature; and before it could run away, he blocked the entrance with his tail fin. "Oh no you don't." He swooped over to grab ahold of its head with his third hand, causing it to shriek and kick its legs as he held it up high. "You seriously need to stop eating my customers when they're trying to BUY SOMETHING!!"

The Dweller just growled at him, to which he ignored it and glanced down at you. "What should I do with this thing?"

"Punch it!" You grinned, your fists balled up in front of you as you hopped up and down. "I wanna see how fast you could throw one!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pleeeeaaase?"

"..ugh, if it gets that stupid puppy-eyed look off your face, fine." He looked back at the Dweller, grinning widely as he cracked his knuckles. "You wanna eat something so bad? Try this."

"....grahh-?"

In a blinding flash, his fist went through the creature's skull, effectively turning its head into dust. Then he dropped the whole body onto the ground with a grimance. "Eugh..never done that before.."

Then he looked down at you again, seeing your smile brighten. "Hope that made you happy."

"It did, that was amazing!" You laughed, kneeling down to rip off a chunk of the Dweller's flesh. He eyed you strangely, his expression changing to a look of horror as you shoved a piece in your mouth.

"What the f...why would you eat that?!"

"It's okay! I've had this stuff before." You swallowed, feeling rejuvenated already.

"B....Before?! What you're eating is clay and acid-"

"Actually, it's fresh meat. Reminds me of poultry, almost. I found a document somewhere saying that it has regenerative properties." You explained to Sebastian, whose eyes only widened the more you talked. "I didn't believe it at first until I saw the Angler kill one. I was hungry and...eating it healed my electrical burn somehow."

".......why was that not in its actual document?" He muttered.

You shrugged, ripping out another piece and offering it to him. "Care for a bite?"

"I'll..pass. But thanks." Lowering his body closer to you, he frowned. "Are you absolutely sure that-?"

"I'm sure."

"..you didn't even know what I was going to-"

"You were worried about my reaction to your file. I could tell from the discount signs and how you were scared to even look at me."

"............."

"But I promise it doesn't change anything, okay? We're still friends, Sebastian, and I'll still swing by to do business with you." You reassured him, smiling as you patted the back of his hand, before noticing the bandage on his third arm seemed bloody. "Um..when's the last time you changed that?"

"...oh this? Erm..it's fine." He attempted to hide it behind his back. "Nothing you should be concerned abou-"

"Too late. It's my concern now. Let me repay you for saving my tail."

He had no time to protest, as you were already on your feet and running for the medkit that was on the table. You weren't worried about getting to the next zone right now.

Not that Sebastian planned on kicking you out anytime soon.

No.

Now that he was able to confide in you, he was genuinely beginning to enjoy your company--especially as you asked him to rest his arm across your lap. From there, your gentle hands went to work changing the bandage out for a fresh one, using an alcohol spray to keep the wounds from getting infected.

He hissed and cursed a few times at the stinging pain, but not once did he try to get you to stop.

Suddenly, it all began to hit him in this exact moment.

You were willingly playing nurse to a giant sea monster that has killed a man and was responsible for the terrifying things you had to witness down here.

He couldn't understand..but at the same time he felt relieved that all along he had nothing to worry about.

"Th-That's fine..thank you.."

Hearing a sniffle, you glanced up as Sebastian hastily took his arm away, "standing" back up and turning away from you. You just smiled and patted his tail comfortingly, not saying a word as you waited for him to collect himself.

For once, that snarky and sarcastic fish you've come to know was gone, and he was letting his walls down, finally realizing he could trust you.

Eventually he fell silent, and you wondered what to do now. You bought everything you wanted to earlier, so you didn't wanna overstay your welcome-

"Do you mind staying for a little bit longer?"

The question surprised you, but you smiled and nodded. "Sure. As long as you don't mind, shrimpy."

There was a pause, and he slowly looked back at you, pouting. "Big talk coming from someone as tiny as you, friend." He playfully sneered.

You just laughed and shook your head, glad to see him in better spirits.

Thanks to that scrambler on his back, you didn't have to worry about HQ getting on your ass about continuing the mission or threatening detonation.

You could definitely stay awhile and ramble about more mantis shrimp facts to Sebastian...if he was willing to hear them, of course.

[heliosunny]

A part 3 of yandere Mydei x knight reader. But one of the reader's assassin friends visited to help them but before they reminisce and do a little sword/dagger dance like they did when they were little. But a certain someone HATED seeing this...

Yandere!Mydei x Knight!Reader

[part 3]

Visit [part 1]; [part 2]

After exposing Lady Callista’s treachery, you meet someone from your past, a fellow assassin, a woman both deadly and stunning.

The city streets are alive with the glow of lanterns, the scent of roasted meat and sweet wines drifting through the cool night air. You move like a shadow, blending into the crowd, savoring the rare moment of freedom. Mydei had given it to you, or so he claimed.

“You deserve a reward, my dear” he had murmured after Lady Callista’s demise. “Go where you please tonight. Enjoy yourself.”

You took it anyway, slipping out of the palace like the assassin you once were. And that’s when you see her.

She leans against the wooden rail of a bridge, bathed in the silver light of the moon.

A woman of breathtaking beauty, long, silken hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes that hold secrets and lips that curve in amusement as she watches the city below.

“Took you long enough, darling.”

Your lips part in shock. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

She turns to face you fully, her fingers brushing against your cheek, too familiar, too warm.

“You didn’t think I’d die so easily, did you?”

Her name is Selene, an assassin like you.

A friend. A partner. A ghost of your past that you thought you’d never see again. The two of you sit atop a rooftop, away from prying eyes.

“So” she drawls, stretching her arms above her head. “I hear you’ve been playing knight for the oh-so-glorious prince Mydei.”

You glare. “It’s not like that.”

She smirks. “Oh? Then what’s it like, darling? Does he let you off his leash, or does he just tighten the chain when you run too far?”

You say nothing.

Because she’s right.

“You could leave, you know.”

You exhale. “It’s not that simple.”

She hums, considering. “Then stay with me, at least. We have a bond, you and I. Something that man will never understand.”

You return to the palace at dawn.

And Mydei is waiting. His fingers tapping against his throne.

“You were gone for quite some time, my dear” he murmurs. “I wonder… what kept you?”

“Ah.” He leans forward, a slow, knowing smirk curling his lips. “It was her, wasn’t it?”

“Selene.” Mydei already knows.

“Tell me, my dear knight” Mydei murmurs, tracing his fingers along your arm, his touch deceptively gentle. “What makes her so special to you?”

Your jaw tightens. “That’s none of your concern.”

“But it is.”

You meet his gaze, unyielding. “She’s my friend.”

“Friend?” Mydei repeats “No, my dear. She is a distraction. A relic of your past. And I do not share.”

“You will not see her again.”

You don’t respond. Because you will.

And Mydei knows it. Which is why, as he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead, his voice is almost a whisper.

“I wonder, my dear… Will she still be beautiful when she’s dead?”

Selene is a master of deception.

She slips past palace guards like a whisper in the wind.

She visits you often, without Mydei knowing. Or so you think.

Until one night, she confronts him alone.

The palace is a fortress. Tall marble walls. Elite guards. The finest security Mydei’s wealth can provide. And yet, Selene walks through it as if she owns the place. She slips past locked doors, secret passageways, hidden corridors, until she reaches you.

Your chamber.

She pushes the door open without a sound.

And there you are fast asleep, oblivious.

Selene exhales softly, a smirk curling her lips. “Still so careless, darling.”

She sits at the edge of your bed, watching you.

She doesn’t wake you because she already knows what she came here to do.

Mydei’s private chamber. She slips inside, silent as a blade, only to find him already waiting.

“Ah” Mydei murmurs, reclining lazily in his chair. “So the little ghost reveals herself.”

“Your security is pathetic” she muses, crossing her arms. “Then again, you don’t actually believe anyone could take Y/n from you, do you?”

Mydei chuckles, pleased. “My dear knight, you mean?”

His fingers tap against the polished wood of his desk.

Selene’s gaze hardens. “They are not yours.”

Mydei sighs, as if bored. “How odd. They live in my palace, wear my colors, carry my mark. What does that sound like to you?”

“A prison.”

His lips curve into a smirk.

“A home, dear Selene.”

Selene takes a slow step forward, voice dropping into something cold.

“They don’t belong to you, Mydei. And they never will.”

Mydei stands. He is taller than her. Broader. A prince bathed in golden light, regal and untouchable.

But Selene?

Selene is a creature of the dark. And she is not afraid of him.

“Tell me,” Mydei muses, “why should I let you live?”

Selene smirks. “Because if I disappear, they’ll know it was you.”

Mydei chuckles, unimpressed. “And if I make it look like an accident?”

Selene tilts her head. “Then I’ll simply take you with me.”

For a long moment, they study each other.

A prince draped in gold. A ghost wrapped in silk.

Two monsters in their own right.

“You’re afraid.”

Mydei’s eyes narrow. “Afraid?”

“Afraid of what we have. Afraid of the bond we share.”

She steps closer, close enough to see the flicker of something dangerous in his gaze.

“You know what we mean to each other, Mydei” she whispers. “And that’s why you hate me.”

Mydei says nothing.

Selene’s smirk widens. “Don’t worry, my prince. I won’t take them away.”

Her voice drops into something mocking.

“But they will leave on their own.”

She turns away. And just before she disappears into the shadows, she leaves him with one final whisper

“Enjoy your throne while it lasts, Mydei.”

“Because one day… you’ll be sitting on it alone.”

Mydei does not move for a long time.

Selene was a nuisance. But now?

Now she was a threat.

“Oh, my dear knight” he murmurs, gaze turning toward your chamber. “It seems you need a reminder of where you truly belong.”

And he will make sure you never leave his side again.

The annual Hunting Contest begins, a grand event among the nobles, where power is displayed through skill, strategy, and bloodshed.

Prince Mydei, the golden star of the hunt, is adored by many noble ladies.

You, his “knight” are given a new order: keep them away.

You stood beside his white stallion, arms crossed, blades hidden beneath your cloak.

“Look at them” Mydei mused, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Fawning over me like wolves in heat.”

Your gaze flicked across the field. Noblewomen watched from their shaded pavilions, whispering, giggling, some already planning to attach themselves to the prince.

You sighed. How annoying.

Mydei smirked. “Are you jealous, my dear?”

You rolled your eyes. “Hardly. But if you want to avoid them, you shouldn’t have brought me.”

His golden eyes gleamed. “Oh, but that is exactly why I brought you.”

Before you could question it, he leaned closer, his voice brushing against your ear.

“You will be my shield today, my dear assassin. Keep them away.”

Great.

The hunt lasted long into the evening.

As expected, Mydei was the star, cutting through beasts like an artist with a blade, laughing as blood splattered his white attire.

Women watched with adoration, fascination. By the time the nobles returned to their tents, the forest was filled with whispers, music, and lingering gazes.

You were sharpening your dagger when you felt it. A presence.

Someone approaching Mydei’s tent.

You slipped into the shadows, watching as a woman in a silk gown moved toward the prince’s private quarters, her veil drawn low. A noblewoman. And she was not supposed to be here. You were about to grab her when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Inside. Now.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you into his tent. You barely had time to react before his hands pressed against your waist.

Your breath hitched. “What the hell are you—?”

“Shh.” His lips brushed against your ear, his tone mocking, smug. “We have an audience.”

Outside, the noblewoman hesitated. You could see her shadowed figure beyond the silk curtains, hear her faint breathing. She was listening.

Mydei smirked. “Let’s give her a show, shall we?”

He leaned in. His nose brushed against your neck, lips ghosting over your skin.

“You play your role well, assassin” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

You clenched your jaw, hands pressed against his chest to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“She’s still there” he whispered. “Are you really so shy, my dear?”

You gritted your teeth. Fine. Two can play this game.

You tilted your head just enough to brush your lips against his ear, voice dripping with false sweetness.

“I could stab you right now, you know.”

Mydei chuckled.

“And yet you don’t.”

Outside, the noblewoman gasped softly.

“Why, my dear assassin…I think you rather enjoyed that.”

Slowly, deliberately, you close the space he thought was his to control. Mydei’s smile did not waver.

"Should I be flattered?" you murmured, your voice softer, more taunting. "Or should I worry that you're so easily entertained?"

His eyes flickered, not with annoyance, but intrigue.

"You wound me" he said "If I wanted to entertain myself, I would have chosen one of those women fawning over me." His golden gaze burned into yours. "But I don’t."

You tilted your head, letting the flickering lantern light cast shadows across your smirk.

Then—you leaned in.

Close enough to make his breath hitch.

Close enough to feel his fingers tighten, just slightly.

"Then I must be special" you whispered.

You shoved him away the moment the noblewoman left, stepping back into the dim glow of the tent’s lanterns. He wants to tease you, to provoke you, to make you stumble first. But this time, you play along. And for the first time tonight, he was the one left waiting.

The next morning, rumors spread like wildfire.

And of course, Selene finds out.

"Did you hear?"

"Prince Mydei was with someone last night."

"A secret lover?"

"No one saw their face, but someone swore they heard… sounds from his tent."

Your face twitched.

"Sounds?"

Selene grinned like a devil.

"Mmm, you must have had quite the passionate night, darling."

You glared. "You know that’s not what happened."

"Oh, I know." Selene leaned in, voice dropping to a mock whisper.

"But they don’t."

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. "How the hell did this spread so fast?"

Selene shrugged, utterly unbothered. "You know nobles—one little whisper and suddenly it’s a scandal."

"Well, let them talk" you muttered, arms crossed. "It’ll die down soon."

Selene grinned wider.

"Oh, I doubt that."

"Why?"

Selene pulled out a silk handkerchief.

Embroidered in gold. Marked with the royal insignia.

"Where did you get that?"

Selene twirled it between her fingers.

"Some poor servant found it outside Prince Mydei’s tent."

You froze.

It was yours. A gift from Mydei—given to you for “formal appearances.” You must have dropped it last night.

And now—everyone thought it was proof of an affair.

Selene’s laughter was merciless.

"Oh, darling." She wiped a fake tear. "I’ve never seen you so careless before."

You snatched it from her hands.

"If you breathe a word of this—"

"Oh, please." She patted your cheek mockingly. "I wouldn’t dream of ruining your tragic romance with our dear prince."

You groaned, already dreading how long this rumor would last.

Mydei must have heard it by now.

And knowing him—he was enjoying every second of it.

You weren’t wrong.

Sitting at the head of the nobles’ gathering, Mydei sipped his wine leisurely, his golden gaze flickering over the whispers, the stolen glances. And at the center of it all—you.

"How interesting" he murmured, setting down his glass.

"It seems my dear knight has finally been noticed."

He leaned back, pleased.

"Perhaps I should give them something more to talk about."

The rumors of your “secret affair” with Prince Mydei refuse to die down.

Rather than deny them, he makes them worse.

At breakfast, Mydei insisted on sitting beside you—closer than ever. Touching you.

His fingers ghosted over your wrist when reaching for his cup. His shoulder pressed against yours when he leaned to speak. His eyes never left you.

Whispers grew louder.

"Look how close they’ve become." "Do you think they really…?"

At training, it was worse.

You were preparing your weapons when—

"Here, let me help you."

His hands were suddenly on yours, adjusting the straps of your armor.

"I can do it myself."

"Oh, I know. But I rather enjoy taking care of you."

You could feel the gazes burning into your back.

Lady nobles whispered behind silk fans, their jealousy sharp.

"He’s never done that for anyone before." "It must be true…"

Damn it. This was exactly what he wanted.

You pulled away abruptly, stepping back.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, Mydei."

He smirked. "Am I? It seems I’m simply treating my dear knight with the affection they deserve."

Something was wrong. Your body felt too hot, too heavy, like molten iron poured through your veins. Your vision blurred, steps uneven as you stumbled down the hall. The last thing you remembered was a noblewoman handing you a drink.

You should have been fine. Poisons never affected you.

But somehow, this one did.

Your mind was slipping.

And before you knew it, you were standing in front of his door.

Mydei. The only name in your muddled thoughts.

The only presence that felt steady. Safe.

Without thinking, you pushed the door open.

"Mydei." Your voice was breathless, uneven.

He was at his desk, golden eyes flickering up. Then he stood immediately.

"What happened?" His voice was sharp, full of concern.

But you... you only stepped forward.

"I… I don’t know." Your hands clutched his coat, desperate, seeking warmth.

"Something is wrong."

His arms were around you, steadying you.

"Who did this?" His voice darkened.

"I don’t…"Your words slurred."It doesn’t matter."_

You felt his hand cup your face, fingers pressing against your pulse.

"You’re burning up" he murmured, voice lower now—almost soft.

"I’ll find who did this."

But you weren’t listening. You were watching him. Golden eyes, sharp jaw, the way the candlelight flickered across his skin. He had always been dangerous. Controlling. And yet, right now, all you wanted was to pull him closer.

So you did.

Your fingers curled into his collar, tugging him toward you.

"Stay" you murmured.

"You don’t know what you’re saying" he said, voice tight with restraint.

"Don’t I?"

Your lips brushed against his jaw—light, fleeting, teasing.

And Mydei stopped breathing.

His grip on you tightened, shaking.

"You’re not thinking clearly" he said—but his voice was strained, wavering.

"Maybe" you whispered. "Maybe I just don’t care right now."

Then, you bit him.

Sharp enough to leave a mark.

Right on his throat, where no royal scarves or armor could hide it.

"You—" His voice caught, unsteady.

But you only smirked hazily—pleased with yourself.

"Goodnight, Mydei."

And before he could react, before he could pull you back, you slipped away. Leaving him standing there breathless, frozen, wrecked.

"Did you see it?"

"Gods, it was right on his neck—"

"Who could have done that?!"

The noblewomen were losing their minds. Prince Mydei arrived at court that morning with a deep, unmistakable mark on his throat. No scarf to cover it. No explanation given. Only the slightest smirk curling at his lips as he took his seat.

Selene leaned toward you, whispering, grinning like the devil herself.

"Darling, I must say—I didn’t expect you to leave such a bold claim."

You froze.

Then, realization crashed into you like a blade to the gut.

Oh. Oh no.

Last night. The drug. The haze. The mark. Your fingers touched your lips.

What had you done?

Across the hall, Mydei caught your gaze.

And his smirk, his knowing, triumphant smirk, sent a shiver down your spine.

You had given him exactly what he wanted.

And now—he would never let you forget it.

[zeroseuniverse]

His To Protect

Word Count: 870 Summary: "Have you ever heard of guardian angels?" Pairing: Doyoung X Reader

Navigation

I sit in the cold metal chair, my wrists resting on the table, my fingers clasped together tightly to keep from trembling. Across from me, two detectives—one skeptical, one furious—stare me down like I’m a caged animal. The air is thick with unspoken accusations.

"You have to understand," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "I didn't do it."

Detective Lee slaps a file onto the table. A collection of crime scene photos spills out—people I knew, people who had wronged me in some way. A high school bully, a spiteful boss, an ex who cheated on me. All dead. Some torn apart as if mauled by an animal, others suffering from "accidents" too convenient to be accidents.

"Then why is it," Lee sneers, "that every single one of these victims had a history of crossing you?"

I swallow hard. I don’t have an answer. Not one they’d believe.

Doyoung sits beside me, his hands folded in his lap, his face eerily calm. To the detectives, he's just my best friend, my most trusted confidant. To me, he's something else entirely. My guardian. My curse.

I glance at him. His dark eyes hold a quiet warning. Say too much, and they won't leave this room alive.

I shudder and focus on the detectives again. "I know how it looks," I admit. "But I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this."

Detective Kim, the calmer of the two, watches me with a calculating gaze. "Then who did?"

Doyoung tilts his head slightly, studying them. I know what’s coming. A distraction. An intervention. Something to make sure I walk out of here.

"You wouldn’t believe me," I say honestly.

"Try us."

Doyoung shifts in his seat. The light above flickers. Detective Lee rubs his temple like he’s suddenly developed a headache.

I take a deep breath. "Have you ever heard of guardian angels?"

Lee scoffs. Kim stays silent.

"They protect people," I continue, my voice even. "But sometimes… they take their job too seriously."

Doyoung’s lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile. The room feels smaller, colder. The flickering light dims further, the air pressing against my skin like unseen hands.

Lee shivers. "What the hell—"

The bulb above us bursts. The room plunges into darkness.

And then, the screaming begins.

The darkness swallows the room whole. For a few long, suffocating seconds, the only sound is Detective Lee’s ragged breathing. Then—chaos.

The metal chair scrapes against the floor as Lee stumbles back. Kim curses under his breath, fumbling for something—probably his gun. But it won’t help him. It never does.

A whisper slithers through the room. Soft. Amused. "You should’ve let them go."

Doyoung.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Not again. Please, not again.

A sharp gasp. A thud. When the emergency light flickers back on, Detective Lee is sprawled against the wall, his body limp. A smear of blood trails down from his temple. Kim, frozen mid-motion, stares at Doyoung—at the thing sitting where my best friend should be.

His eyes are black now. Not the deep brown I know, but an abyss, vast and endless. Shadows curl around him like living smoke, licking at his fingertips.

Kim’s lips part. "What… are you?"

Doyoung tilts his head, considering him. "The only reason they’re still breathing," he murmurs, nodding toward me. "You should be grateful."

I push back from the table, my pulse hammering in my throat. "Doyoung, stop."

He looks at me, and for a fleeting moment, I see something soft in his expression. Something human. But it vanishes like a candle snuffed out.

"You don’t belong here," he tells me simply.

The air shifts. The walls groan. The fluorescent light above flickers, then steadies.

Kim is shaking. Lee groans, dazed but alive. Doyoung sighs, as if disappointed, and stands up. "We’re leaving," he says.

Kim finally finds his voice. "You’re not going anywhere." His hand grips the gun holstered at his waist, but I already know he won’t pull it in time.

Doyoung doesn’t give him the chance.

With a flick of his wrist, the gun flies across the room, clattering against the far wall. Kim stumbles back, eyes wide.

I grab Doyoung’s wrist, my fingers burning at the touch. "Enough," I say, desperate. "No more."

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he hesitates. The darkness retreating, the weight in the air lifting just a fraction.

"Okay," he says at last. "For you."

His free hand lifts—and the room plunges into nothingness.

I wake up to the hum of passing cars. The scent of rain lingers in the air. We’re outside now, far from the interrogation room. The station itself is eerily quiet behind us.

I sit up, my head spinning. Doyoung crouches beside me, his expression unreadable.

"You saved me," I whisper.

His gaze meets mine. "I always do."

I want to ask him what happened to the detectives. If they’ll remember. If they’re still alive. But part of me already knows the answer.

Doyoung stands, offering me his hand.

I take it.

Because I know, no matter where I run—no matter what I do—he will always follow.

Because he’s my guardian.

And I am his to protect.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation wc: 17k spotify playlist series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“What do you mean you’re just ‘giving up’?”

“Satoru, calm down.”

“Oh, calm down? You expect me to calm down when you’re just letting whoever threw all this shit on Y/N, my son just…free? You’re really not going to look harder?”

Satoru huffs in a frustrated manner, rubbing his hands through his hair, and messing up the silver locks. When he was called by his parents so early in the morning to come to their place, he thought he would’ve been greeted with good news. Any news. Not this. He not only feels immensely annoyed, but also thrown under the bus. But what else was supposed to expect from them? He’s pacing the living room, his parents standing off to the side and watching their only child try not to lose his shit. 

“Satoru, we’ve all looked into this. But whoever took that picture was smart, they knew how to stay hidden. We’ve done everything in power, son.” His mother tries to placate him, holding her hand out in an attempt to gently plant it on his forearm. 

He promptly pulls away before she makes contact, fixing his mother with an icy look, lip curled up slightly.

“How convenient,” Satoru snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The all-powerful Gojo family, with all its influence, resources, and connections, suddenly can’t find one person? Spare me.” His pacing becomes more erratic, his steps heavy as if each one is an outlet for his frustration. 

His father finally speaks, his tone sharp and commanding, “Enough, Satoru. You’re not the only one affected by this. We’ve handled the situation as best as we could without escalating it further. Do you even understand the damage control we’ve had to do?” 

“Damage control?” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, stopping dead in his tracks to glare at his father. “You’re more worried about your reputation than your grandson’s safety, aren’t you? Or Y/N’s for that matter?” 

His father narrows his eyes, his voice lowering dangerously. “Watch your tone. You think we don’t care? Everything we’ve done has been to protect this family.” 

“Family?” Satoru scoffs, gesturing wildly. “If you cared so much about family, you wouldn’t just let this slide. You’d help me hunt them down, no matter what. But no, you’re just sweeping it under the rug like everything else, aren’t you?” 

His mother’s voice trembles slightly, though she tries to keep her composure. “Satoru, please try to understand—there’s only so much we can do without creating more chaos. We can’t act recklessly.”

“You mean I can’t act recklessly,” he mutters darkly, taking a step back from both of them. His jaw tightens as he looks between his parents, disgust and disappointment etched into his face. “You don’t get it. None of this is just about me anymore. It’s about Y/N and Koji. They didn’t ask for any of this, and now they’re the ones dealing with it.” 

His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want us to do, Satoru? Tell me, what more can be done that hasn’t already been tried?” 

“I’ll handle it myself,” Satoru growls, the fire in his eyes blazing. “You won’t. Fine. But I will.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and storms toward the door. 

Yamato’s hand shoots out, gripping his son by the elbow and effectively holding him in place. Satoru turns his head over his shoulder, matching his father’s death glare with one of his own—only it looks…scarier. 

The silence is palpable—disturbing. Akane stands half way in the middle, unsure if she should stop this now or let Yamato deal with it—deal with their son. She worries her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed together. 

“Satoru,” Yamato’s voice is low, firm, but the underlying tension cuts through the room like a blade. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a cold smirk, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t pull away, but his entire posture radiates defiance. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to. The man who taught me that family comes second to pride. Let me go, Dad, before this gets uglier than it already is.”

Akane takes a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches out. “Yamato, please. Let him go. This isn’t the time to—”

“Stay out of this, Akane,” Yamato interrupts sharply, his focus never wavering from Satoru.

Satoru scoffs, the sound filled with disdain. “Of course. Can’t let Mom get in the way of the big, bad Gojo men, can we?” His tone drips with mockery, but his glare burns with genuine anger.

Yamato’s grip tightens, his knuckles white. “You think this is about me? About my pride? This is about you—your recklessness, your inability to see the bigger picture. You can’t solve everything with brute force, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smirk fades, replaced by a steely resolve. “And you can’t solve anything by sitting back and doing nothing.” He yanks his arm free with a sharp motion, the force of it making Yamato take a half-step back. “You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie. Don’t worry—I won’t let this ‘family legacy’ get in the way of protecting my family.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable. “Satoru, the boy is your family but not that woma—”

“Address her by name, Yamato.” Satoru steps closer to his father, the two at towering heights. Truly a frightening sight to an outsider’s perspective. “Or you and I are going to start having some serious problems.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his stoic demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. “You think threats will get you anywhere with me, boy?” His voice is sharp, controlled, but there’s a distinct edge that betrays his frustration. “She’s the reason this mess even exists. She’s—”

“Enough.” Satoru’s tone drops to something cold, lethal. His cerulean eyes blaze with an intensity that could freeze anyone in their tracks. “You don’t get to disrespect her. Not when you’ve done nothing to fix this so-called ‘mess.’ Not when she’s been doing everything she can to protect my son—your grandson.”

Yamato stiffens, his brows furrowing. “Watch your tone.”

“I’ve been watching my tone my whole damn life,” Satoru snaps, his composure finally breaking. “But not anymore. You don’t get to sit on your throne and act like you care about this family when all you care about is the Gojo name. Koji and Y/N are my family now. Whether you like it or not.”

“You two aren’t married,” Yamato reminds his son, for what must be the thousandth time now. 

Really, Satoru’s losing his mind here. He knows that. He knows you two aren’t married. But he still feels an obligation towards you—the magnetic pull to protect you from outside scrutiny that could potentially harm you and Koji. So sure, you guys aren’t married. But that doesn’t change the matter of fact here. “And what if we were?”

Akane gasps, Yamato’s eyes visibly widening in surprise before lowering down to their normal state. His jaw ticks. “Stop, don’t make jokes like that. You’ve been promised to Himari for a while now.”

Satoru’s laugh is sharp, humorless, slicing through the tense air. “Promised? What century are you living in? I’m not some pawn for you to move around, Yamato.” His tone drips with disdain as he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over his father. “You think a promise to Himari means a damn thing to me? I’ll marry who I want, when I want.”

Yamato’s composure wavers for the briefest moment before he narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the importance of this arrangement, Satoru. It’s not just about you—it’s about securing alliances, protecting the legacy—”

“Legacy, legacy, legacy,” Satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. “Is that all you care about? Your ‘legacy’? Not your grandson, not the fact that your son is trying to do what you never could—actually be there for his family?”

Akane’s hands tremble at her sides as she steps forward, voice tentative but pleading. “Satoru, please. We only want what’s best for you—”

“No,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning his icy gaze to his mother. “You want what’s best for you. Don’t twist it.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically shake off their words. “Koji doesn’t need your ‘legacy.’ He doesn’t need your politics or your alliances. He needs a father who puts him first.”

“And Y/N?” Yamato retorts, his tone scathing. “Do you think she’s above this? She could be using you, Satoru. She’s a liability, dragging you—us into scandal after scandal. And now, with the boy—”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, cutting through the room like a clap of thunder. He steps even closer to his father, their faces mere inches apart. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. She’s the mother of my child. She’s family. And I’ll defend her with everything I’ve got.” His voice drops, low and cold. “So go ahead. Keep pushing me. See what happens when I stop giving a damn about your ‘legacy.’”

Akane’s quiet, labored breathing breaks the tension, her hand fluttering to her mouth as she looks between the two men. The silence that follows feels deafening, and for a moment, Yamato looks like he might lash out—but then he takes a breath, regaining his composure.

“Fine, you’ve made your point clear,” Yamato finally says, his voice low and measured. “But don’t expect me to clean up the fallout when this all collapses around you.”

Satoru huffs a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I won’t. I’ve learned not to expect much from you anyway. A man who cares more about sealing business deals than the own well-being of his family.”

Yamato glares, his jaw tightening once more, but he doesn’t respond. The tension in the room is suffocating, a silent battle of wills playing out between father and son.

Satoru doesn’t wait for his father to break. Instead, he turns sharply, heading for the door. Before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes steely. “You can take your promises, your alliances, and your legacy—and shove them. I’ll protect my family, with or without you.”

And with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving Akane and Yamato in stunned silence. The house rattles with Satoru’s exit. Akane slowly turns her head towards her husband, who is still staring at the spot their son once stood in. Her jaw clenches, French-tipped nails digging into her aged palms. “You…you’re breaking this family apart, Yamato.”

“It was already apart.”

That’s it. Nostrils flaring as she hastily stomps up to her husband and delivers a slap to his right cheek. His head shoots toward his left, unflinching. He doesn’t face his wife, even after he hears the sniffling come from her. 

The room hangs heavy with silence after the sharp crack of Akane’s hand meeting Yamato’s cheek. She stands there, trembling, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Tears well in her eyes, blurring the sight of her husband—unmoved, unshaken, and cold as stone. 

“You’re so blind,” Akane whispers, her voice quivering. “Blind to what really matters. Satoru…he’s slipping away from us, and you can’t see it because you’re too damn proud to admit you’ve failed him.”

Yamato remains still, his head turned, staring at nothing. “I’ve done what I had to do,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “For this family. For its survival.”

“No,” Akane counters, her voice growing louder, cutting through the tense air like a blade. “You did it for yourself. You’ve always done it for yourself. The name, the power, the control—it’s all you care about. You don’t care about Satoru. You don’t care about Koji. And now…” Her voice cracks, and tears spill over her cheeks. “Now, you don’t even care about me.”

Finally, Yamato turns to face her. His expression is unreadable, a mask of stoicism, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of something in his eyes. Regret? Doubt? It’s gone before she can be sure.

“I care about this family,” he says, the words sounding rehearsed, hollow. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Akane snaps, taking a step closer, her fists clenching at her sides. “If you cared, you’d see what you’re doing. You’d see that you’re driving Satoru away, driving us all away. You’d see that the ‘legacy’ you’re so desperate to protect isn’t worth a damn if there’s no one left to carry it. Aren’t you tired of this all?”

Yamato opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he simply stands there, his towering frame somehow diminished by the weight of her words.

“You’ve lost him,” Akane whispers, her voice breaking. “And if you keep this up…you’ll lose me too.”

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she retreats, leaving Yamato alone in the echoing silence of the living room. He doesn’t call after her. Instead, he stands there, the faint sting of her slap lingering on his cheek, and for the first time in a long time, Yamato feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Satoru’s driving faster than he should back home, inhaling deeply then letting it go. He stops at a red light, too close to the white line of pedestrians. His phone sits in the cup holder before being picked up once more, eyes narrowing at the article he was looking at before he stormed on the pedal home. 

“Satoru Gojo and girlfriend Himari Nakamura spotted with Y/N L/N! Trouble in Paradise? Is this an end to Hitoru?!”

He bitterly scoffs once more when he sees the idiotic title to the even more idiotic article. Once again, an intrusive element to his already asphyxiating life. He knew meeting up with you to drop off Koji’s jacket might have been pushing it already, but for some reason…he found himself wanting to see your face and hear your voice. Even if it was just for a few short minutes. He hadn’t expected Himari to find him so soon, which was why he knew he needed to cut it short and keep his cool before anything unsavory happened. 

Because of shit like this. 

Satoru’s grip tightens on the wheel as he glares at the screen, the words blurring as his anger mounts. His chest feels tight, like the very air around him is too thick to breathe. The headline taunts him—Hitoru—the mockery of it all, the never-ending reminders of the mess he’s in. Himari’s name keeps appearing in connection with his, like some knot he can’t untangle.

Hitoru—the name they gave him and Himari when they were pushed together by their families, the perfect picture of a relationship built on top of strict obligation, not love. His fingers tighten around his phone, the familiar buzzing of frustration building in his throat.

He snaps the phone shut with a sharp motion, tossing it back into the cupholder. But the damage is done. The images of you, of Himari, of the scrutiny that surrounds them, keep circling his mind. It’s suffocating. He doesn’t even want to think about it anymore—about how you’ve been dragged into this mess.

The light changes, and he slams his foot down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he speeds toward home. But even as he drives, his mind races—faster than the car, faster than his thoughts can keep up. He can’t shake the image of his parents, the look in their eyes, the silence that followed his exit. And now this—this new intrusion. It’s like he’s always on the edge of losing something, something he can’t even define anymore.

He turns off the road onto a quieter street, his heart hammering in his chest as he parks in front of the familiar house. The world feels too loud, the air too thick, and all he wants is for it to stop—for it all to just stop.

He grabs his phone again, his thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. He pauses, staring at it, then pulls his hand away, staring at the water in front of him instead.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself. There’s so much to fix, so many wrongs to right, but he doesn’t know where to start anymore. Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he knocks his forehead into the leather wheel. 

He wonders if you saw it already. Maybe you did, but maybe you didn’t. There’s a part of him that wants to text you to ask, and maybe even apologize. However, he’s not sure if that would be a good choice right now. He recognizes every little bit of you so easily, it’s startling. Maybe concerning?

The small downturn to your lips as you held back a frown and formed a smile, the pitch of your voice lowering in disappointment. The look in your eyes that glazed over with nothing but…betrayal? He cursed himself, eyes squeezing shut. 

You probably hate him even more now for not standing up for you as you would’ve liked—as he would’ve liked.  He’s starting to feel like his older self again, and he absolutely despises that. Fucking up and knowing it, but not fixing it up afterwards. He should’ve followed you back into your workplace and apologized for what Himari said to you, but he didn’t. He froze like a fucking idiot and in the end—chose another woman. 

Satoru’s forehead remains pressed against the steering wheel, the heat of it grounding him in the overwhelming rush of guilt and frustration. His thoughts swirl in chaos, a vortex of what-ifs and should-haves. Every moment he’d spent ignoring your pain, every opportunity to protect you he let slip by—it feels like he’s suffocating on the weight of it all. The truth is, he knows you too well. Better than anyone else ever could. And that makes it worse.

He can picture it so clearly: the way your lips had almost quivered before you plastered that smile, the way your eyes shifted, too tired to pretend anymore. He’s seen that look before, way more times than he’d like to admit. And it terrifies him now. Betrayal. Is that what he’d done? It was almost like he had carved a bigger wedge between you without realizing it, all because he couldn’t act fast enough, couldn’t be the man you needed. 

Did you still need him?

He slams his hand against the wheel in frustration, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise quiet car. 

His phone buzzes on the seat beside him with a random notification, and instinctively, he grabs it, his thumb hovering over your name again. But no—he can’t. Not like this. Not when he’s this tangled up in his own mess.

What could he possibly say? 

He drags his hand over his face, muttering to himself. "God, what are you doing to yourself?"

Every time he tries to piece it together, another fragment of reality shatters in his mind. You’ve always been strong. You never asked for him to do more than what he could handle. But you’d been forced to handle so much already, and he... he’d let it all slip away.

Maybe you actually do hate me now.

He leans back against the seat, closing his eyes again, hoping for a moment of clarity. But the only thing he can hear now is the ringing silence in his head.

“Do you still love me?”

“…of course I do. I’d never stop.”

“Then why…why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“No, really. I’m—”

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

He actually feels like he’s going crazy. Snapping his eyes open. He’d never thought he’d be the person to hear voices from the past in his head, but now he’s starting to understand. His heart is beating faster than it should, mouth drying like the Sahara desert and his fingers are starting to feel fidgety. With a shaky, labored breath inward, he reaches for his glove compartment. Opening it and bringing out the picture frame you gifted him. 

It’s only been a few days, but Satoru has discovered that not just staring at his son, but at you, has calmed him down in his hardest of moments. 

Satoru’s fingers tremble as he holds the picture frame, his eyes drawn to the image of you. It’s a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a time when everything was different. Your smile, your eyes full of a younger warmth and something more—something he wishes he could’ve seen in person. That smile, the one that always made his heart flutter despite the chaos surrounding them. 

It was just a small moment, a simple gesture—no grand speeches or dramatic declarations—but to him, it meant the world. And now, in the silence of his car, surrounded by the weight of everything he’d failed to protect, it’s the only thing that feels real.

He runs his thumb along the edge of the glass, his mind replaying the words from before—your words. His chest tightens.

“Why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

It’s a question he still can’t answer. How could he? He was so far from being the man you needed him to be. He thought the love you shared was enough, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d let it wither, neglected it in favor of his own responsibilities, his own distractions, until it had slipped through his fingers like sand. But in a way, he saw the neglect. And again, he froze. And again, he chose to turn away from you, letting you walk away. 

“Satoru... I know you are.”

He flinches at the memory of your voice, still so clear, still so piercing in its sadness. He'd heard the pain in your words that night. The resignation. He should’ve comforted you more—should’ve tried harder to. It was your own understanding that whatever you two had left, he wasn’t offering it in a way that could keep you whole.

The picture frame shakes slightly in his grasp. The noise of it is almost deafening, drowning out the chaotic swirl of his thoughts. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of guilt settle deep within his chest, heavier than anything he’s ever felt before.

I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.

His breath hitches. Maybe he wasn’t entirely lost. Maybe he could still fix this. 

With a shaky exhale, he sets the frame back on the seat, staring at it for just a second longer before slowly closing his eyes, and leaning back against the headrest, allowing the overwhelming weight of it all to settle over him. His heart rate evens out, his hands no longer jittering. His sweat has dried down and his shoulders feel lighter. 

Maybe he should apologize. For anything at this point, so long you know he’s regretful. 

He gets a ping at his phone again, one that has him reaching for it and unlocking it with quick ease. He’s set up a different notification sound for whenever you text him or call him—it separates you from the rest of the contacts. Also, it lets him know that your message or phone call is actually worth replying to. 

Y/N:

Can you watch Koji tonight, please? I’m going out with a friend. 

He hesitates, a wave of curiosity passing through him. What friend? Going where? He wants to ask, and he almost does. But logic wins over and he finds himself having better restraint than he would’ve expected. So, with a big inhale, he types back a simple ‘sure’. 

He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you dressed up in a while. That’s why his mind has suddenly gone foggy, lips parted and eyebrows raised as if he’s on the very verge of saying something. “You look…” Edible. 

Clearing your throat, you stuff your hands into the pockets of the small black jacket you adorn to keep you semi-warm throughout the night. But it probably won’t do much considering your legs are on full display for everyone to see. Your white-painted toes peeking out from the black heels you wear. And not to mention, the red dress you’re wearing that’s almost too tight and short for his liking. You’re wearing a glossy red lip to match, hair down, and jewelry that stands out perfectly against your skin. If he inhales hard enough, he’ll smell the sweet scent of your floral, strawberry fragrance that always leaves him wanting—feining for more. 

“…nice.”

Nice? That’s all he could come up with? He mentally berates himself, though he’s not entirely sure if he wants to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how good you look. It’s not just the dress or the heels—it’s your unknowing confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. It’s infuriatingly captivating. 

“Thanks,” you reply, not meeting his gaze as you adjust the strap of your small purse. You’re not oblivious to the way his eyes linger, but you refuse to let it affect you. Not tonight, not anymore. “Koji’s already asleep, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Satoru nods, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Who’s the lucky guy?” he finally asks, his tone deliberately casual.

You pause mid-motion, glancing back at him with a raised brow. “Why does it matter?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Just curious. I mean, you haven't gone out much, so…”

“It’s a friend,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can push further. “That’s all you need to know.”

His lips thin, looking briefly at his son’s closed door before back at your figure; watching you grab your keys. “Well…how are you getting there?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. 

“My friend and the guy she’s talking to are picking me up. We were going to meet him there, but he said he could pick us up instead.”

“What guy?” He can’t help but ask. “Is he a good driver? Do you know him well? Do I—”

“They’re picking me up,” you reiterate, cutting him off. Looking back at him, a plain emotion on your face. “I have it situated. Just worry about watching Koji, okay?”

The words sting more than he expects them to. He watches as you step out the door, your heels clicking against the pavement. “Please be safe,” he calls after you, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

You turn briefly, offering a small, polite smile. “I will.”

And just like that, you’re gone, leaving Satoru standing in the apartment, staring after you with a sinking feeling in his chest. The thought of you out there, dressed like that, with someone else—some other guy—makes his blood simmer. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from gnawing at him.

A few minutes and he decides to be nosy. Peeking out the window, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. He sees you getting into a car. Now, it’s not the fact that the entire car is blacked out so he can’t even see who’s in the car with you, or the fact that it has obnoxious lights on the rims. But solely the fact that it’s a Maybach. 

Since when do you know anyone who drives a Maybach?

Not that he’s trying to diss you or anything, but so far, he has no knowledge of you coming across any people who could afford that kind of car. Up until now. And that thought alone has him on edge. 

Or maybe it’s the signature, golden ‘Z’ emblem above the back license plate that he spots as the car drives off. His stomach turns. No. No. No. That couldn’t be. He’s just imagining that. 

No way you’re in a car with a Zenin right now. 

There’s just no way. 

“You look cute,” Hana comments, turning around in her seat. Smiling as she gives you a once-over. “Is that the dress we bought together that one time at the mall?”

“Yeah. You look great too,” you chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You glance over at Naoya who’s currently fixated on the road. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Naoya replies without taking his eyes off the road, his tone neutral but polite. “Hana insisted we pick you up anyway.”  

Hana grins, turning her attention back to you. “Of course I did! It’s been forever since we had a proper night out. You’ve been cooped up for too long, Y/N.” She gestures dramatically, earning a small laugh from you.  

“I guess I have,” you admit, glancing out the window as the city lights blur past. “It’s just been… a lot lately.”  

Hana’s smile softens, and she reaches back to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Well, tonight’s about letting go of all that. We’ll have fun, I promise.”  

Naoya glances at you in the rearview mirror, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment before he focuses back on the road. “Just make sure you don’t let loose too much,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk.  

You look over, seeing the corner of his lips upturned into what must be his permanent grin. You catch his eyes meeting you through the rearview mirror for a minute and it makes you feel naked. Clearing your throat and looking back at your window with an awkward chuckle. 

“Naoya, the overprotective chauffeur,” Hana jokes, earning a laugh from Naoya as he puts his hand on her thigh.  

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two,” Naoya quips, his smirk widening as his fingers give Hana’s leg a light squeeze. “Especially when you’re dragging her along into whatever chaos you’ve planned.”

Hana rolls her eyes, brushing his hand off playfully. “Relax, Dad. We’re just going out for a few drinks and some dancing. Nothing too wild.” She winks at you. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “Right. I’m not exactly a party animal.”

Naoya hums, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see about that.”

Hana waves him off.  He chortles a low, smooth sound that vibrates through the car. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here to make sure my ladies get home in one piece.”

Your lips part in confusion, brows knitting together. You glance at him, but he doesn’t elaborate. Hana, ever the chatterbox, quickly fills the silence. “Well, lucky us, then! Who else gets a chauffeur who also cares about their well-being?” She leans over and plants a dramatic kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

Naoya laughs, but he subtly turns his head to the side and grimaces, wiping his cheek as if offended. You notice. 

The dynamic between them is easy and light, and though you try to relax, you can’t shake the feeling of Naoya’s lingering gaze every time he catches your eye in the mirror. There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at you—like he knows something you don’t. 

For now, though, you push it aside. Tonight isn’t about overthinking—it’s about having a moment to breathe.

But you shake it off, plastering a smile on your face as the car pulls up to the club. Hana claps her hands excitedly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Alright, let’s get this night started!”

Naoya puts it in park and rounds over to the other side of the car, opening Hana’s far and surprisingly yours as well. Giving him a small nod in thanks, you go to loop arms with Hana, but she’s already doing that with Naoya. 

You falter for a moment, your arm awkwardly dropping back to your side. Hana is too busy chatting animatedly with Naoya to notice, her laugh ringing out as they start walking ahead. You follow a step behind, trying not to feel out of place.

The entrance to the club glows with neon lights, and the steady thrum of bass greets you as you approach. Hana bounces on her heels, her excitement contagious as she tugs on Naoya’s arm. “Hurry up! We don’t want to miss the good music!”

Naoya glances back at you, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You good back there?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

Hana beams at you over her shoulder, oblivious to the moment. “Don’t let us leave you behind, Y/N! Tonight’s about you having fun too!”

“Right,” you murmur, falling into step beside them as the bouncer waves you three in instantly as soon as he sees Naoya’s with you. 

Inside, the club is alive with energy—flashing lights, pulsing music, and a crowd already losing themselves on the dance floor. 

In other words, it’s a sensory overload. The air is thick with the smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and the floor vibrates underfoot with the heavy bass of the music that pulses from every corner. The dim, moody lighting casts long shadows across the room, but flashes of neon blues, purples, and pinks blink and fade in time with the beats, giving the space an electric, otherworldly glow.

To your left, a long, sleek bar stretches the length of the room, illuminated by LED lights embedded beneath the counter, giving it a cool, almost ethereal glow. Behind the bar, bartenders move with practiced efficiency, mixing colorful drinks, occasionally tossing bottles into the air as part of a flashy show to catch the attention of the crowd. The shelves of liquor gleam under the shifting lights, every bottle begging to be chosen.

The dance floor is alive with movement—a sea of people in various states of abandon, swaying, grinding, and throwing themselves into the beat. The DJ booth is elevated at the far end of the room, with an impressive setup of turntables, flashing screens, and a bright spotlight that shines down on the DJ as they command the crowd. Their hands are a blur as they adjust the controls, sending waves of sound crashing through the speakers, making the room feel alive with every drop.

Above, the ceiling is dark but dotted with small, moving lights that give the illusion of stars or distant galaxies, adding to the club’s otherworldly atmosphere. A few scattered tables sit around the edges of the room, reserved for VIP guests, and each one is surrounded by plush, velvet chairs and bottles of expensive liquor.

As you move through the crowd, you catch glimpses of people laughing, chatting, and flirting, but it all feels distant—like you’re part of the scene but not entirely involved. The club is packed, but there’s a strange sense of intimacy in the chaos as if everyone is trying to escape their real lives, if only for a few hours. The energy is intoxicating, but beneath it all, you can feel the weight of your own thoughts creeping back in, no matter how hard you try to let the music wash them away.

Naoya guides you two upstairs, which shocks you because you weren’t aware this spot has more than one floor. “C’mon, upstairs is where all the important people stay.” He says, his head tilting in the direction of where he’s referring. 

Hana giggles and practically bubbles with excitement. You on the other hand, not so much. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’re a very analytical person at heart, constantly checking and being sure of your surroundings. Of course, a few men pass you and Hana lingering stares, but none of them approach you. 

Naoya walks over to a small VIP booth that’s been blocked off, sitting leisurely down on the couch and bringing Hana down to his lap; her arms around his neck. You sit beside them, hands in your lap. Looking around, and yep, it definitely is a different vibe than downstairs. 

As you settle into the plush, velvet booth, the vibe upstairs feels even more exclusive. The lighting here is more subdued, with golden accents and low-hanging chandeliers casting a warm, luxurious glow over the space. The music from downstairs is muffled, replaced by a mix of smooth beats and more chill, electronic sounds, making the atmosphere feel like a blend of relaxation and quiet intensity. The view from the booth offers a perfect vantage point, allowing you to overlook the main floor, but with a sense of separation from the chaos. The air smells richer up here too—expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigars from the few people who seem to want a more private retreat from the crowd below. Glasses of wine and crystal-clear cocktails sit on the tables, adding to the upscale feel.

“All rounds on me. Let’s enjoy the night,” Naoya announces. 

“Thank you, babe!” Hana exclaims, nuzzling into his neck.  

Your eyes flicker to the other patrons in the booth with you. Some are laughing softly, holding drinks, while others sit in hushed conversations, the dim lighting making everything feel secretive and intimate. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the elite live all the time—an almost curated existence, designed for maximum enjoyment and minimal disruption.

A waitress arrives with a tray of drinks—various cocktails with elaborate garnishes, the scent of alcohol mingling with the floral air in the room. Naoya takes one without hesitation, handing it to Hana, who beams in delight. He looks over as if waiting for you to take one as well. You glance down at the assortment of drinks before finally picking up a glass, the amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. You take a small sip, the sharpness of the alcohol hitting your tongue as you try to keep your focus on the present moment, not letting your mind wander too far.

Naoya watches you with a raised brow, then leans back in his seat, his arm casually draped around Hana’s waist. He seems to enjoy the fact that you’re more reserved than the others. He chuckles lowly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be the type to go for the fancy drinks,” he remarks, his voice light but piercing as he studies your expression.

You give him a dry smile, shifting your attention toward the music pulsing through the speakers. “I’m not, but I figured it’s a good way to blend in,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation flowing without delving into anything personal.

Hana, always the life of the group, doesn’t seem to notice the tension hanging in the air. She’s already lost in the rhythm of the night, swaying her body slightly as she sips her drink. You, on the other hand, are a stranger in it all, unsure of your place here.

You’re don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s probably sooner than later when you’re nudging Hana over as Naoya is engaged in conversation with another man. “Hey, I thought we were going for the more…you know. Lively kind of night. Not a sit down and whiskey type.” You lace your words with a chuckle, though you speak the truth. You’d much rather be on the first floor, drinking expensive, but poorly made drinks and shaking your ass off on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. 

“What’s wrong with being up here? Naoya said all the important people stay here.” She tilts her head, sipping from what must be her fifth drink already. She’s drunk, obviously. 

You’re teetering the line of tipsy and drunk. 

“Well, yeah, sure. But don’t you want to dance or something?” You ask back. 

Hana looks at you for a moment, her eyes softening with a thoughtful expression. She tilts her head, the buzz of the alcohol making her seem a little more carefree. “I mean, I guess, but I like the vibe up here more. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her words are a little slow.

You glance down at your feet for a moment, debating your options. The temptation to be more carefree is there, gnawing at the edges of your mind. But as the music and voices continue to swirl around you, you feel more and more out of place in this sterile, high-class VIP area. You can practically feel the weight of the high-heeled shoes digging into your feet, the tightness of your dress that’s become slightly uncomfortable as the night wears on.

You shoot a glance toward Naoya, who's deep in conversation with some well-dressed man. His posture is perfect, the kind of poised confidence only someone like him could exude, while you and Hana are caught up in your own corner of the booth, the alcohol clouding your judgment but not your awareness. It’s strange to be so close to people who are so at home here but yet feel so far away.

“I think I’m gonna go dance,” you say, suddenly making up your mind. “You don’t have to join me if you’re not feeling it.” You stand, brushing your dress down as you do. Your legs feel a little unsteady, but it’s manageable. You’re not a newbie to drinking, after all. 

Hana looks at you, her gaze blurry but her smile still wide. “Go for it, girl! I’m fine here.” She gives you a thumbs up, though she seems too drunk to be fully aware of what’s going on around her.

You nod, and make your way down the stairs back toward the first floor. The music is louder here, the bass thumping through your chest as you walk toward the crowd of people already dancing. Normally, Hana would never shy away from dancing with you—or straying away from you during a night out. So the fact that she’s suddenly willing to tonight makes you feel weird. But it’s probably just the alcohol. 

You shake off the momentary discomfort, the need to blend into this world of expensive drinks and quiet conversations. This is what you came for.

The crowd is exactly as you expected—a mixture of sweaty bodies, neon lights, and the pulsating energy of a hundred people trying to escape their realities, if only for a few hours. You take a deep breath, letting the beat of the music invade your senses. For a second, you feel a bit more free.

You grab a drink from one of the servers, not caring much about what it is, and make your way into the center of the dance floor. The drink is cool in your hand as you take a sip, feeling the sharp burn of the alcohol before you set it aside, letting yourself be carried away by the rhythm.

The night is finally starting to feel a bit more like it should.

As you lose yourself in the music, the bass vibrating through your bones, you feel the tension in your body start to melt away. For the first time tonight, you're not thinking about the drama, the men, or the uncomfortable constraints of the VIP booth. The club is full of people, all dancing, laughing, and letting go of whatever worries they might have had earlier. You let yourself blend into the crowd, moving fluidly to the beat, forgetting about everything except the thrum of the music and the freedom in the space around you.

It feels nice. Very nice, in fact. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to a club, let alone go dancing. You forgot how freeing it feels. Of course, the alcohol plays a role in the freeing sensation, but it’s also the fact that you can let loose. You don’t have to think of anyone else but yourself at this moment. That realization makes your lips upturn, hips swaying and eyes closing in a euphoric blissfulness. 

You can tell it’s been a while since you’ve been down here by the way sweat beads at your forehead and the back of your neck. You don’t wipe it off, however. That’s the whole point. 

But as you move, you can suddenly feel eyes on you. At first, it's easy to dismiss the sensation, assuming it’s just the way the lights play across the room, making everyone appear to be watching. But the longer you dance, the more you realize that someone is actually watching, their gaze sharp and unwavering. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Naoya.

His presence is unmistakable. Even amidst the blur of strangers, you can feel him like a weight in the air, his energy standing out amongst the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, his arms folded, his expression unreadable but clearly intent on you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. Something about the way he’s staring makes your stomach flip, though you can’t quite tell whether it’s from excitement or unease.

You try to ignore it, but the discomfort lingers. You dance a little harder, moving to the rhythm, hoping the feeling will pass. But Naoya doesn’t look away. In fact, his posture shifts slightly, and the subtle smirk that plays on his lips only deepens. 

At that moment, you feel an unexpected shift in the crowd around you. You glance over, expecting to see some stranger encroaching on your space, but instead, it’s just the pulse of the music getting more intense. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that Naoya is watching you with something more than curiosity. His gaze is intense, too intense for a simple night out. 

The realization starts to gnaw at you. He’s waiting for something. And it’s not just the usual flirtatious attention. There’s a deliberate energy in the air, a challenge almost. 

You swallow thickly, trying to push the tension away. But it’s getting harder to pretend like you’re not aware of him, especially as you move.

“Having fun?” Naoya’s voice cuts through the noise as he approaches you, standing dangerously close, almost too close. You freeze momentarily, caught off guard by his forced proximity. He towers over you, the heat from his body radiating towards you, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s studying you, dissecting you. 

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, your mind scrambling for something to say, anything to break the intensity of the moment. Instead, your eyes dart toward the exit of the dance floor. You need space. But Naoya doesn’t give you the chance to retreat.

“You seem a little distracted tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as if they’re the only two people in the room.

You know he’s not just talking about the music. A part of you wants to pull away, to tell him you’re fine, but another part feels caught in his web. 

He leans in slightly, his voice nearly lost in the music. “I thought you’d be enjoying yourself up there. Why the sudden change of heart?”

You tilt your head, forcing yourself to stay grounded. “I just needed a change of pace, that’s all.”

Naoya looks you over with a raised eyebrow, his posture leaning just a bit closer. “I see.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “You’re not trying to forget anything, are you?”

You glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away, letting the question hang in the air for a second. Instead, he moves closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. His touch is light, but there’s an intensity behind it, a pull that almost makes you lose focus. The air around you thickens, the moment stretching out longer than necessary.

“I’m just wondering how long you’re going to keep running away from what’s really bothering you,” Naoya murmurs, his smirk never faltering.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His words—casual, yet somehow pointed—cut through the haze of alcohol in your mind. It’s strange how Naoya can make you feel uncomfortably exposed even when he’s doing the least. That’s not normal. 

“I’m not running from anything,” you say, your voice steady but your heart suddenly a little heavier. “Just enjoying the night, like you said.”

Naoya chuckles softly, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Sure, just enjoying the night. You do that.” He leans in closer, almost too close now, his breath brushing your ear. “But you should know, sometimes the thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you, no matter how far you run.”

You tense, your pulse racing, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows something—something about you, about Satoru, or maybe even about your own deepest fears. His hands are on your hips before you know it, moving your body in a swaying motion to the beat of the music. 

And for some reason, you let him. Feeling the weight of his ominous words stay heavy on your mind, fixating on a random tile of the floor. You feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, unmoving. For a second, you feel yourself give in. Placing your hands atop his in a hesitant manner—testing out the waters. 

And instantly, you’re met with your answer, a nauseating pit forming in your gut. Lip curling into a tiny sneer. 

“W-where’s Hana?” You blurt out, pushing his hands away from you and turning around to face him. 

There’s a momentary look of shock on his face before he pulls it back down into his usual Cheshire grin, though you can tell it looks more forced than usual this time. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, Hana? She’s still upstairs.”

“And you left her there?” You huff with disbelief, your head shaking. You attempt to side-step past him, but he’s putting an arm around your shoulder before you can go. 

“Don’t worry, pretty. I can lead you to her.”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol clouding your judgment or the lingering discomfort from his presence, but you find yourself stopping. His touch, warm but unnerving, keeps you in place as his arm wraps around you. His grip feels possessive in a way that makes your skin crawl, and for the briefest second, you almost feel trapped.

You glance up at him, his grin too wide, too knowing. There’s something in his eyes—something that doesn’t sit right with you. His words float in your mind like smoke: “The thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you tilt your head toward the stairs, where you know Hana must be waiting. “I think I’ll find her myself,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm, and detached, though your pulse quickens.

Naoya’s eyes glint with something unreadable, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his arm around your shoulder, his touch more possessive than before, making it hard to breathe. “I’m just trying to help, sweetheart. What’s the harm in me escorting you?” His voice is low, almost coaxing like he’s trying to pull you into his orbit.

Before you know it, he’s taking you upstairs. All the while keeping his arm around you. You gulp down the lump in your throat, unsure if you should push him off and let him take you to your friend. Maybe you’re overthinking—overreacting. Once you two are upstairs, he’s walking past the booths. You glance at the booth you were once at, seeing no sight of your friend. 

Panic trickles in slowly as he takes you down a small hallway, turning to his right and opening the last door. 

You’re taking in everything. Women, men, glasses of alcohol. Some make out and others getting frisky with each other. The room feels even more suffocating than the second floor itself. But your eyes don’t just widen at what the others are doing, but what your friend is doing. 

She’s sitting beside some guys you don’t even know, white snowy lines laid out in front of them on the glass table. She’s leaning down, holding a finger to her nostril and just about to partake in the activity when you snatch her up by her arm. “Hana! W-what the hell are you doing?!”

Hana looks up at you, her face slightly flushed and her eyes glazed over, an uncharacteristic haze of confusion settling over her expression as she blinks a few times. The room is full of murmurs, laughter, and the sharp scent of something far stronger than alcohol. For a moment, Hana doesn’t seem to recognize you at all, or perhaps she’s just too far gone to care. The men around her don’t react immediately, their attention is divided between each other and whatever else is happening in the room.

“Hana!” you repeat, voice rising in panic, shaking her arm a little more forcefully. Your grip is tight, and you can feel the tremor in your hand as the weight of the situation starts to sink in.

She blinks again, then her gaze clears just enough to focus on you. “Y/N?” she slurs, a small frown forming as she rubs her nose absentmindedly. “What’s up? I was just… having fun.”

“This isn’t fun, Hana!” You pull her up from her seat, your voice trembling as you yank her away from the men. “This is dangerous—what are you thinking?”

Hana stumbles a little, her movements sluggish, and she doesn’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of the moment. She laughs softly, her words laced with a slur that makes it hard for you to hear her clearly. “Come on, Y/N, chill out. It’s just a little fun. You’ve been so uptight lately... you need to loosen up, too.”

Your heart races as you glance back at Naoya, still standing in the doorway, his hand resting casually on the frame. His grin is gone, replaced by a coldness that seems to make the room feel even more stifling. You’re left standing there, breath shallow, with Hana still swaying slightly in your grip. You don’t know how long it takes for the fog of confusion to lift from her eyes, but when it does, her face falls.

Your stomach twists, both from the overwhelming sense of protectiveness and the lingering disgust at what she’d been about to do. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’ve been friends for too long to just let this go. You can’t leave her here like this—not with those people, not in this situation.

You pull her closer, your voice softening. “We’re leaving, Hana. Now.”

A beat of silence hangs between you, and for a moment, you think she might actually listen, but then she looks at you with frustration, and then back at Naoya, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“Why are you always trying to control everything, Y/N?” she snaps, and it feels like a slap to the face. “I’m fine. Just let me do what I want for once.”

It’s the final straw. You can’t stand it anymore. You’re about to pull her out of the room, about to drag her away from this mess, but Naoya steps forward, a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Maybe you should let her be, Y/N,” he says, voice calm but his grip tightening on you. “She’s not your responsibility tonight.”

Your anger flares, but your mind is spinning too fast to catch up. You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face, but you know better. You can feel the weight of the situation settling in, and something about being in this room with him, watching everything around you spiral out of control, is making you lose your footing.

And Hana—she’s still there, looking so lost, so far gone.

You feel the pressure of Naoya’s touch on your shoulder, almost like an invisible barrier, stopping you from moving. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the air heavy and thick with tension.

“Did you bring her in here? Did you force her to do things she couldn’t consent to?” You ask, forcing your drunken mess away for just a moment to deal with the situation at hand. 

His head tilts in faux innocence. “What? No. She said she wanted to meet my friends so I let her. I said I’d be back in a few minutes, I didn’t know she’d be doing anything like that.”

“But you still left her alone.” You grit. 

“So? She’s a grown woman. Besides, she’s not alone.” He gestures to the people inside. 

You can feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air like a heavy weight, suffocating you more than the dense atmosphere of the room. Your chest tightens with anger and concern for your friend. The nerve of him—standing there, acting like he didn’t know what was happening. He knows exactly what’s going on, and now he’s just playing it off like it’s nothing.

“You still left her alone,” you repeat, voice sharper this time, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though every instinct tells you to look away. “If you had any decency at all, you wouldn’t have let her get to this point.” 

Naoya shrugs, an almost bored expression on his face, like he’s done this too many times to count and knows exactly how to make people like you back down. “Decency? You want me to babysit her?” His lips curl into that smirk again, the one that sends a chill down your spine. “I’m not her keeper, Y/N. She made her own choices.”

Your hands shake, but you force them to remain steady. You glance at Hana again, who’s swaying, her mind clearly lost in whatever she was about to do, her gaze vacant. The sight makes your stomach churn, the reality of how deep she’s gotten into all this hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Then why did you bring her here?” you ask, struggling to keep your voice from breaking. “Why even let her near this place if you knew what was going on?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you might have actually caught him off guard. But then his expression hardens, and the slight tension in his jaw gives way to a shrug. “Because she wanted to be here. She asked to come. I didn’t make her.” His tone is colder now, more dismissive. “You know, Y/N, sometimes people just want to let loose. You can’t control everything. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You flinch at his words, and that’s when you know—you’re not going to get anything else from him. He’s already too far gone into his own ego, into this sick game he’s playing. But you won’t stop. Not when Hana’s here, not when she’s clearly in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, putting yourself between Naoya and Hana, your voice unwavering. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Naoya opens his mouth as if to argue, but you don’t give him the chance. You grab Hana’s arm again, more forcefully this time, pulling her away from the table. She resists at first, confused, but your grip is unyielding.

“Come on, Hana. We’re going.” You almost want to shout it, to get her out of there before anything else can happen, but instead, you keep your voice steady, calm, for her.

She blinks at you, her vision blurry. “But... Y/N... I... I’m fine, I just... I just wanted to try it...”

“No, Hana,” you snap, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence. “This is not you. You’re not fine.” 

The words hit her hard. You can see it in her eyes—the brief flash of clarity before the fog comes back over them. She sways, but you manage to keep her steady as you drag her out of the room, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people inside.

Naoya doesn’t try to stop you. He stands there, arms crossed, watching you leave with that same smirk plastered across his face.

You can hear him mutter under his breath. And you find that being your final straw again. 

You stop in your tracks, holding your friend to your side by her waist. Debating. “Hey.”

He barely has time to look over his shoulder before your fist makes contact with his cheek. He audibly yelps in a feminine manner, instantly holding the injured area. “Ow! W—hey!” 

His mouth is agape, eyebrows furrowed and glaring at you with looks to kill. You wring out your fist, glad you wore your favorite ring today. You can’t punch for shit, yet he’s acting like…

“You crazy woman!” He huffs out, the room going silent as he has his breakdown. Rushing over and pushing a couple of women out of the way to cheek his face in the mirror. He sees the red area, and his lip is busted. Whipping his head back over to you. “How dare you?! I’ll fucking sue you for this, you know?”

“Go ahead, I have nothing to give you.” You reply back, turning on your heel and walking out. Footsteps quick from the sheer adrenaline and small amount of fear that he’ll try to grab you from behind. He doesn’t, luckily. 

All that matters now is getting Hana out of this hellhole. As you make your way to the exit, you finally feel like you can breathe again. But just barely.

Once you’re outside, the cold air hits your skin, grounding you. Hana stumbles beside you, still out of it, but you’ve done what you came to do. You’ve pulled her from the edge.

But as you both stand there, the reality of what just happened settles in. You’ve confronted Naoya, punched him, and you’ve dragged your friend out of a situation she was too far gone to see. But now, as the adrenaline begins to fade, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not done yet.

You look down at your shaky fist, seeing the red knuckles. “…shit…” you mumble under your breath, chest heaving up and down. You gasp and catch yourself on a light pole when Hana suddenly goes dead weight and almost brings you down to the concrete with her. It takes everything in you to hold her up.

Your vision feels wavy, feeling your feet stumble a bit to the right from your own inebriation before catching yourself mid-haze. “Okay, okay.” 

You’re bear-hugging her to your chest, holding your bodies up against the light pole. Breathing in and out heavily, eyes closing as you try to figure out a situation for this all. Your ride, gone. You didn’t even bring money for a taxi. And your friend is passed out drunk. You do a mental checklist of people who can haul you and Hana’s drunk asses back home. Only coming out with two viable options. And one of those is currently watching your son at home. 

Leaving only one other person. 

Satoru has been lounging around your place for a few hours now, bored out of his mind. He switches from laying on the couch, to rummaging through your cabinets and reading the expiration date on everything, to checking on his son. 

He sighs heavily, staring down at the familiar key he had gifted you that lies on the kitchen counter. Untouched. He still hasn’t asked about your confirmation of the place he bought for you two, he figures he can do that tomorrow. But the fact that you haven’t seemed to put much regard into it feels like a small dig to him, his frown deepening. Did you not care for it? Do you not like it? The fact that he went out of his way to buy you and his son a better place to live??

He needs to clear his mind. 

Walking over to Koji’s room, peeking in once more, everything is the same. His son still sleeps peacefully, snoring lightly and holding his Spider-Man close to his chest with his blankets thrown over him. The Spider-Man makes Satoru scowl again, forcing his eyes away and to the small hamper in the corner. 

He might as well do something productive now. 

Carefully, he walks in and grabs the hamper, walking back out with effortless silence. Going over to your washer and dryer, opening the two doors to reveal them. He already sees a full hamper on top of the washer and sighs. “C’mon, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. 

Flipping the light switch on, he puts both hampers on the ground and it takes him a while to figure out how to work your washer. Afterward, he opens the lid and tosses on Koji’s small load, then yours. He tries not to hold onto your panties and bras for too long, not trying to be a perv. But he’s a man, after all. A man who may still have feelings for his ex. 

So when he sees a pair of blue, lace panties, he thinks he might get a hard on right then and there. You creep! He’s holding it in front of his face, admiring the dangling fabric. He’s surprised you still have this. He remembers the…day you got it, after all. Yep, he feels his pants tighten. 

The sick, twisted part of him tells him to give the panties a small sniff. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

No, no. That’s disgusting of you, Satoru. 

He shakes his head, reminding himself that he can’t do this and that he has a girlfriend. And by the gods above, he quickly tosses it into the washer before he loses control. The rest of your clothes consist of pants, sweats, a jacket, a few shirts, and a….wait. 

…what’s this?

Getting to the bottom of your hamper, he comes across a shirt. One that’s too oversized to fit you. One that’s cotton. One that smells faintly like someone else he knows. One that he bought for his best friend two Christmases ago. 

Satoru stares at the shirt in his hands, his eyes narrowing as the realization hits him like a cold slap to the face. The fabric feels heavier in his grip than it should, and the faint scent clings to it—the unmistakable scent of someone else. Someone he knows. Someone who's apparently been a part of your life in ways that make him uncomfortable to even consider.

His stomach twists, a mix of anger and confusion flooding his thoughts. The shirt feels like a thread unraveling everything he’s been trying to convince himself of. He knows it’s irrational to feel the way he does, but in that moment, all he can think of is him. His best friend. The one who’s always been there. The one who seems too close to you. His grip tightens around the fabric, his stomach dropping. Gulping hard and forcing himself not to jump to conclusions. 

But that’s pretty fucking hard. 

Why the fuck do you have Suguru’s shirt? Why is it in your dirty clothes? Did he just put it there? Did he spend the night? Did you and him—

He tosses the shirt back into the hamper with more force than necessary, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. It’s his.  

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What is he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but everything about this feels wrong. He glances over at the pile of clothes—your clothes. He sees everything but that damn shirt. But it's there now, in his mind, looming like a specter. 

Satoru grabs the rest of the clothes, hastily tossing them into the washer, but it’s hard to focus. His mind keeps returning to that one question. That one shirt. And the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, there's something he's been missing.

He almost feels like gagging as he closes the two doors and turns the light off, head spinning. He places a hand to his forehead, blinking hard. 

His head whips over to the front door when he hears muffled chatter from outside. 

“Thank you for coming on short notice,” you mumble in embarrassment, focusing your eyes on your fiddling hands in your lap. 

“Don’t thank me, Y/N. I would’ve come either way.” Suguru responds, smiling briefly at you before focusing back on the road. 

You’re just dropped Hana off. The trip felt way easier since Suguru opted to carry her in and to her bed, with you grabbing her keys and unlocking her door. When you left, you made sure everything else was locked. He didn’t even question anything, simply doing as you asked. 

Of course his gaze is riddled with concern, confusion, and skepticism. You don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at your red knuckles that you hide, but with the way you haven’t mentioned anything about the night, he figures you won’t talk about it. 

“How much did you drink? I brought some water, it’s on the door.” He juts his head in your direction. 

You glance down and grab the bottle, thanking him as you down it. “Um…just a few drinks. I’m not entirely sober right now, still.”

Suguru nods slowly, not saying anything for a moment as the car hums along the quiet road. He doesn’t push you to talk, but he knows something’s off. You’ve been quieter than usual, and the tension in the air is palpable. He’s been around you long enough to sense when something isn’t right, but he’s trying not to pry—especially when you’re clearly trying to avoid the topic.

When you finish the water, he glances over at you, eyes softening. “I know you’re not ready to talk, Y/N. But you know I’m here, right? If you ever want to—”

You nod quickly, cutting him off, but not in a way that’s dismissive. It’s more like you’re trying to assure him. “I know. Thanks, Suguru.” The words hang between you both, neither of you fully comfortable in the silence. Guilt hits you, so you continue. “I just…tonight didn’t go as planned.”

He nods, stopping at a red light. Finally taking the chance to look at you fully once more. His lips thin in displeasure when he sees your current state. Shivering, flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, hair messy. He sighs and reaches in the backseat and brings out a warm, thick black jacket. Putting it over your shoulders. “Put that on, okay? Keep yourself warm and hydrated.”

Your lips part, but you nod and smile slightly. “…thank you,” you murmur, holding the jacket closer. 

“And don’t thank me anymore, okay?” He replies, hints of playfulness in his voice like he’s trying to ease the mood. When the light turns green, the car moves forward again and gets closer to your apartment complex. 

You let out a quiet breath, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you as you pull it tighter around your shoulders. The night feels like a blur now, too many conflicting emotions tangled together. Suguru’s steady presence is a welcome relief, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost control in some way. Tonight wasn’t just a mess—it was a wake-up call.

As he makes the final turn toward your apartment, you glance at him, still holding the jacket close. His eyes are on the road, but you can tell he’s trying to read you without being too obvious. There’s concern in the way his brows are furrowed, even though he’s doing his best to keep things light.

“I didn’t expect the night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice quieter than before. “I thought it’d just be a fun time with Hana, but… everything kind of spiraled.”

Suguru’s expression softens, though his gaze doesn’t stray from the road. “I know you wanted to have a good time, Y/N. Sometimes things just… happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t recover from it.”

You glance out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery. The bright lights of the city feel like a distant memory compared to the emotional chaos inside your head. You force your stomach not to start twisting. “I know. It’s just hard. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.”

Suguru reaches for the wheel a bit tighter, but his voice is gentle as ever. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know? Not everything is on your shoulders. Let yourself breathe a little.”

You bite your lip. I tried doing that tonight, look where that got me. You stay silent as he finds a space and parks, deciding he’s dealt with enough of your burdens. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he mutters, unbuckling and getting out of the car to come to your side. He helps you out wordlessly, closing the door behind you and locking his car. 

Your footsteps falter for a moment. “I-is it okay if I lean—”

“Of course,” he cuts you off, holding a steady arm around your waist and allowing you to use him as grounding for your leaning weight. He’s practically leading you, but you have no problem with it. Even as you two enter the elevator, the silence doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, you’re leaning more into him, the side of your head against his chest. 

He glances down at the top of your head, pulling you just a tad bit closer and twisting the urge to plant a kiss to your hair. His thumb rubs small, soothing circles around your hip, feeling you lean more and more against him. 

The doors open and he’s slowing his movements for you. “Still with me?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and looks forward. “Good, don’t go falling asleep. Get some water in you, maybe some bread.”

You can’t help but softly chuckle. “You know, you’ve been really nice to me, Suguru. Nicer than anyone else.”

Your words are getting quiet and more mumbled—slurred. But he can still faintly piece your words together. You feel the rumble in his chest from his coaxing laugh. “Yeah? I think I’m just acting how any other man would.”

“Not any other man.” You reply.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, getting a tiny idea of who you may be referring to. But he doesn’t want to ruin your night even more by saying his name. 

The quiet hum of the building is a comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. You’re not sure how much of your surroundings you’re taking in; your thoughts are still clouded from the night’s events. The warmth of Suguru’s presence, his steady support, makes it easier to keep going. When you reach your door, he stops, giving you the space to find your keys in your pocket. You fumble a little, but Suguru doesn’t rush you. He stands patiently, his thumb still grazing the side of your hip. He’s careful not to crowd you too much, but there’s an undeniable sense of protectiveness in the way he stands close.

Finally, you manage to find your key. You glance up at Suguru, your eyes a little foggy. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiles down at you, the warmth in his expression making your chest tighten a little. “It’s nothing, really. Just doing what’s right.”

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly but his smile softenn. His hand traveling up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be around when you need me.”

There’s a quiet beat between you two, the silence saying more than words ever could. You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to keep the emotions from overwhelming you. You gently bite your bottom lip, the action causing his eyes to flicker down towards it. “I just…I feel like I haven’t been having anyone on my side lately. I’m…I’m glad I have you.” 

His insides practically melt at your soft, drunken tone of voice and the way you’re gazing up at him. Suguru feels his heart shift, warmth pooling in his chest at your vulnerability. He’s never seen you quite like this, so open and raw, and it makes him want to protect you in a way that’s deeper than he expected. The softness in your voice, the way you lean into him—it all pulls him in closer, making his resolve weaken just a bit. He swallows hard, stepping a little closer to you, but trying to keep his distance, knowing that you’re vulnerable right now, not fully in control of your emotions.

“Y/N,” he says gently, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your hands, lifting them from where you were gripping the door, and holds them softly in his. “I'm not the only one, I promise. But I’m always going to have your back. You never have to feel alone, okay? We all go through tough times, but you’re not carrying it on your own.”

You nod slowly, eyes glimmering with a mix of gratitude and something else he can’t quite place. Your fingers curl around his as if you’re grounding yourself in his touch, a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty.

“You’re not like the others, Suguru,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… safe.”

The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning. Suguru’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from concern or pity—it’s from something else. Something warm, something that feels a little dangerous, but right. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing, as he registers the way you’re looking at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he says softly, his voice almost a promise. “You always will be.”

You both stand there in the quiet, the weight of everything between you—everything unsaid—lingering. Suguru’s hand reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face again, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, like he’s trying to convey something in that simple touch. 

You blink, breaking the moment just enough to step back. “I should go inside.”

Suguru nods, not forcing anything further. He understands. “Yeah, go get some rest. Drink that water, and don’t forget about the bread.”

You tiredly smile, looking back at your door and putting the key in its hole. But, you find yourself hesitating. Movements stilling as thoughts overwhelmed your already vulnerable brain. You’re looking back at him before you know it. 

His eyebrows raise. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head in response, your heart beating faster. He says nothing, just allowing the little staring contest to continue on. For some reason, it’s making you not want to face your reality. God, it’s the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing to him. How stuck he feels, how guilty he feels and how perfect it all feels at the same time. It’s almost not fair.

Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve experienced more shit than you would’ve wanted to tonight—and of course, you’re a lightweight. Hence why you don’t really like drinking in the first place. But you’ve needed one recently. 

So yeah, your balance is not very steady, your head feels light but heavy at the same time, your lips are curved up into a smile on their own and your calculations are a little miscalculated. 

Because you could swear that with the way he’s looking at you now, his lids the slightest bit hooded that one could miss it, his tilted head, and the way he’s leaned in close enough that you can smell his intoxicating cologne…he’s looking tempted. 

And to be honest, so are you. 

The night air is suddenly quiet, you’ve been staring into his eyes for who knows how long now and your breathing feels shallower. It feels like a sappy romance movie you watched when you were a tween and wished upon a star that one day it would happen to you. Except it’s not the person you would’ve exactly wanted. But your body is still reacting all the same. 

What does that mean for you?

Your key is still lodged in the hole of your door, seemingly frozen—but awaiting. He leans in and your eyelids flutter. “I’m sorry.”

“F-for what…?”

“For being such a selfish man right now.” He places a steady hand to your waist as your body swayed backwards again. 

It’s just the alcohol talking. “I-it’s okay…”

“Is it?” He mutters, breath fanning your face. 

This time, you lean closer, practically moving up to your tip-toes. You notice the way his eyes have darkened, glancing down at your pink, parted lips. “Yeah, I think…I want to be selfish too.”

He smiles, matching your drunken one. Your right hand raises to his cheek, admiring the heat that wavers off of it. You think you want more of his magnetic heat. He doesn’t move, allowing you to do the work. Maneuvering your head up to close the rest of the distance. And you’re so close, so very close that you could practically lick his lips if you wanted.

His lips part, making space for your own to slot between them. Just when you’re about to—

Your door yanks open from the inside, jolting you back to reality. Eyes wide and looking over at the culprit.

Oh, fuck.

Satoru stands in your doorway, hair poking up at all different angles, jaw clenched and saccharine eyes darting around at the sight in front of him, of what he just interrupted. And it feels like you’ve just been burned, pulling back and away from Suguru like you’ve been caught cheating. Suguru matches your actions, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “S-Satoru…” you mutter, swallowing. 

“What’s this?” He asks, looking between you and his best friend. “He brought you home?”

“I—”

“She called me to pick her and her friend up, Satoru.” Suguru interrupts, meeting his friend with undeterred eye contact. 

However, that seems to be just the icing on top for Satoru. Turning his gaze towards you, looking up and down quickly. “…So…I’m watching our son while you go ahead and get yourself shitfaced, you’re gone for hours without any call or text to let me know you’re okay, and when you come back… you’re about to…kiss my fucking best friend?”

“Sato—”

“Shut the fuck up, Suguru.” He gives his friend a death glare, taking a step outside and forcing you to take a wobbly one back. Suguru doesn’t move. “Tell me, huh. You think I’m an idiot?”

“Satoru,” you reach out for his arm, but promptly pull back when he looks back at you. 

“And to think,” he scoffs, regarding you with an icy coldness that feels completely foreign to you. “I thought we had it okay for once. And now you’re fucking my best friend behind my back?”

“No! N-no, Suguru and I aren’t doing that.” You quickly protest. 

He simply scoffs and Suguru steps back in between you two. “Satoru, calm down, okay? We weren’t doing anything. Y/N’s been having a tough time and I’m just here to help her through that.”

“By what? Forcing yourself into her life? Into my son’s life? Who the hell do you think you are, Suguru?” He pushes the other man by his shoulder, to which Suguru does not fight back. 

You grimace, pulling back on his shirt. “Satoru, stop it, please. We aren’t doing anything like that.”

“Bullshit!” He snaps, throwing his arms up. “He gives you and Koji a present. I find his fucking shirt in your hamper, and now I just caught you two about to kiss. Did you fucking forget I was inside? Were you going to bring him inside and let him fuck you?”

Your mouth is agape, eyes blown wide at the accusations. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and unable to form a coherent thought. Satoru’s accusations sting, each one harsher than the last. His anger is palpable, the venom in his voice making it hard to breathe, and yet all you can do is stand there in stunned silence, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

“No... Satoru, I—I didn’t—” You struggle to find the words, but nothing seems to come out right. How do you explain something that’s so far from the truth but also so complicated in its own way? 

Suguru, his expression tight with frustration, steps forward, clearly trying to keep the situation from spiraling even further. "Satoru, this isn’t the way to handle it. Y/N’s been through a lot, and I'm just trying to be there for her. That’s all it is."

“You think that makes a difference?” Satoru spits, turning back to Suguru with a glare that could burn. “You think you can just waltz in, playing hero, and it’s all fine? You don’t get to play the martyr here. Not with my family.”

You flinch at the mention of Koji, feeling the sting of his words even more sharply now. "Satoru, please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Don’t talk about him like that. You know I would never—" 

But Satoru cuts you off with a sharp gesture, his eyes dark with fury. "No, you don’t get to explain yourself anymore. I saw it. I know what was happening."

Your heart races as the silence hangs heavy between you, Suguru and Satoru locked in a tense standoff. You can feel the weight of the accusations pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you manage, the words coming out in a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing was going to happen. Nothing. I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches. Suguru looks between you both, his eyes softening just a fraction, but there’s nothing left to say. You’re standing at the edge of everything, and you don’t know how to fix this, how to make Satoru believe you.

“Satoru, Y/N’a a grown woman.” Suguru says. 

“Yeah? And what, that makes you a grown man?” 

Once more, Suguru is pushed by Satoru. You can see the growing irritability in Suguru’s expression, the way he’s doing his best to not give in and fight with his best friend. You’re torn, unsure of how you can stop this. Sure, you punched a man today, but he was a bitch. That doesn’t mean you can stop a possible  fight between two other men. “Please, don’t raise your voice, Satoru. I don’t want to wake Koji.”

“Oh, now you fucking care?” He huffs out. And that sentence alone puts a halt to you. Your mind momentarily freezes, going silent. He almost looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re uttered, but it’s drowned out by his look of anger. 

Soon…you’re mirroring his fury. 

“What?” You quietly ask, letting out a deep huff. “What? What the fuck did you just say to me?”

This time, it’s you who pushes the pusher. He stumbles back barely, caught off guard by your suddenness before he’s planting himself in place. “Don’t touch me, Y/N.”

“Then don’t you ever say something like that! I’ve done everything I could for Koji and more. You had no idea what kind of shit I went through alone.” You grit out. 

“Because of you! Because of your own stupid decision to not let me in, let me help you!” He argues back. He's right. He's always right. And that’s why you two could never work together because while Satoru was always right, you were always wrong. They say opposites attract, when actually, opposites do nothing prove what the other could never be.

And after the events of tonight, you’re growing tired of holding back your explosion. Your drunken brain is telling you to fight fire with fire. 

“Because you were a fucking shitty person!” You shout back, aware of the fact that your loud voice may cause some of your neighbors to wake up. Koji to wake up. “And now you’re getting mad at me for trying to move on? For trying to live my life? Fuck you! You have a fucking girlfriend who treats me like shit and you let it happen!”

“You want to play that game, Y/N? Really?” Satoru replies, a dead firmness in his tone. 

Before you can respond, Suguru, ever the peacemaker, is cutting in again. “Y/N, stop it, okay? Go inside, you’re drunk. Satoru, don’t—”

He’s cut off by another push from Satoru. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Suguru. You’re trying to get with my ex behind my back, is that how low you’ve become?”

“Satoru,” he slowly exhales out, trying to calm himself. “I’m not doing that. Y/N and I aren’t getting together. I’m just being here for her.”

“By trying to get in bed with her?”

Suguru has begun to have enough. “Stop speaking like that, Satoru.” He gruffs out.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, and your pulse races as Satoru’s words hit harder than before, each one a slap in the face. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, pushing you past the point of control, past the point of regret. This argument feels like it’s never going to end—like it’s been building for years, simmering beneath the surface, only now it’s boiling over in a mess of accusations and past hurts.

Satoru’s sneer deepens as he stares you down. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? I’m not stupid, Y/N. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes now. You think you’re going to move on with him after everything?”

You step closer to him, barely noticing the way your hands are trembling, your heart pounding in your chest and tears prickling at your eyes. “I’m not moving on with anyone. Not like you think. But you—” You pause, trying to steady your breath. “You’ve had no idea what I’ve been through. You’ve walked away at times when I needed you the most, Satoru. Don’t fucking act like I owe you anything now.”

Satoru’s expression darkens, his hands balling into fists, but you don’t flinch. “I’m sorry if you think I don’t care, but I’ve been in the fucking trenches with you, Y/N. Do you think it was easy for me too? To watch you shut me out? To watch you fucking struggle with everything while I—while I—tried to be there for you? But I was never enough, was I?” His voice cracks with a mix of frustration and disbelief, but it’s too much. It’s too late for apologies and explanations. You feel your vision blur with tears, and for a brief moment, you almost crumble under the weight of the argument, the hurt, the feeling of being misunderstood.

“You knew you could’ve tried hard enough. You knew that, you know that.” You argue, despite your shaky voice. 

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Suguru steps forward, intervening again, his voice low and firm, but there’s a warning in it. “Enough, Satoru. You’re not hearing her. This isn’t about you anymore.”

Satoru’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. “It’s always been about me, Suguru. It’s always been about what I need, what I want. And now you want to play the hero? To take my place in my own fucking life?”

Suguru shakes his head, his expression hardening. “No, I’m not trying to take your place. But you’re blind if you don’t see how much she’s suffered. How much she’s going through. And how much you’re still hurting her by dragging all this up now.”

“Shut up,” Satoru snaps, and his voice is harsh enough to make you flinch. “I don’t need a lecture from you, not now.”

Suguru doesn’t back down, his eyes never leaving Satoru’s. “Then maybe you should take a fucking look at yourself first.”

For a moment, the three of you stand there in silence, the tension thick enough to slice through. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. The words you’ve been holding back for so long feel too much to bear, too raw to say out loud, but now they’re there, sitting on your tongue, threatening to spill.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything is overwhelming. Your hands tremble as you press them against your sides, eyes focusing on the ground to keep from breaking down. But the words, the truth you’ve been holding inside for so long, feel like they’re going to suffocate you if you don’t let them out.

“I didn’t mean for this, Satoru. I didn’t mean for any of it,” you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. Your chest tightens, your breath shaky as you look at him, the tears threatening to fall. “But now you’re standing here, making it worse, blaming me for everything. I’m always getting blamed, no matter what. For trying to find happiness. For surviving.” You swallow hard, your voice quieter but still filled with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “But you don’t get to make me feel bad about trying to heal, Satoru. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m the one who ruined everything when you were the one who stopped trying.”

Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, a flicker of concern flashing across his face, but it’s Satoru who you focus on. The silence stretches, suffocating, before he speaks again, his tone hard, bitter, but with a hint of something deeper—something vulnerable. “I never wanted to leave you,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “But you shut me out. You kept pushing me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t try hard enough to matter,” you shoot back, your voice a little stronger now. “You didn’t try to understand. You didn’t try to see me. You only saw what you wanted, what fit into your world. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t just keep being this thing that existed to meet your needs, while I fell apart. I couldn’t.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you swear you see something break in him. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, replaced by the cold, hardened exterior he’s been wearing for so long. “You think this is easy for me?” he spits, voice laced with something that could be self-loathing. “You think it’s easy watching you—watching him—take over everything I thought was mine? That’s not fair either, Y/N.”

“You don’t own me, Satoru,” you whisper, the words coming out stronger than you expect. “You never did.”

Suguru steps forward again, his voice steady but firm. “Enough. This isn’t going anywhere. It’s just going to keep hurting both of you.”

But Satoru isn’t listening. His fists clench again, his jaw tight as he shakes his head, the hurt flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I ever could.”

The rawness in his voice catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. The anger and resentment still burn in your chest, but beneath it all, you realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left. Something that isn’t as broken as you thought.

But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for him.

With a shaky breath, you look away, your heart heavy in your chest, and turn toward the door. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Satoru. It’s done.”

Suguru’s hand rests gently on your shoulder as you walk past, his silent support a comfort, even though the pain doesn’t fade. And Satoru stays there, his fists trembling at his sides, caught between regret and anger, as you step back into your home and shut the door behind you.

The tears overcoming your being once you’re locked inside, taking the jackets off haphazardly and tossing your purse onto the sofa. Holding a hand to your mouth to muffle your cries as you walk past Koji’s door and to your own room, silently shutting and locking it. 

You crumble into your bed, holding your pillow close, and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Letting your warm tears wash your makeup away and stain your white pillow. Feeling your body trembling from every sensation flowing through it right now. You feel your heart pick up way too fast for your liking and you’re almost sure you’re breathing at an erratic pace right now. 

You feel like no matter what, you can never do good in your life. You fucked up tonight by trying to kiss Suguru, you fucked up by keeping Koji a secret, you fucked up by even going out in the first place. 

Everything is crumbling down at you all at once and you think it’s about time you toss the rag in. Because everyone has their breaking point, you’re not sure if you hit yours yet, but it damn well feels like you have. And now you’ve probably broken up a years long friendship due to your own selfishness, to your own stupid intoxication. You’re wrong in every aspect. Everything is eating you alive right now, leaving just a hollow suit in its place. 

You wonder how things will look going forward. 

And you wonder if you’ve ruined any little chance at possibly having Satoru in your grasp again. 

A small knock pulls your attention, shifting your eyes open and looking over to the small head that peeks through. Oh god, this is the last thing you wanted. 

“Mama…” Koji’s small voice utters, slipping inside and coming over to your curled up form on the bed. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You wish you had it in you to put on a poker face and dry your tears, giving him the usual lie. But tonight, you can’t. “…mama’s sad.” You whisper. 

His eyes widen, lip quivering down into a pout. Eyes glistening with his own onset of tears and he’s diving into your bed, scrambling up to your chest. Wrapping his tiny arms around your neck in such a fast way that it leaves you momentarily speechless. When he looks at you, you almost feel yourself wanting to cry harder at the sole fact that your son is seeing you like this, that he’s almost crying now too. “Please don’t cry, Mama. I don’t like you being sad.”

“I…I know.” You croak out, holding him close. “I know, Koji. And I’m…I’m so sorry. I can’t be strong today.”

He shakes his head furiously. “It’s okay! Because Papa told me that when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I’ll be strong and big like him. So…so maybe I can be strong today for you, Mama.”

Your heart shatters at his words, and despite the weight of everything that’s been crushing you, you hold him even tighter. The fragile little boy who’s trying so desperately to comfort you when he should be the one you’re protecting—it’s too much. You can’t hold back the flood of emotions anymore. You pull him into you, your arms trembling, but all you can do is let him in, letting his warmth and innocence wrap around your heart like a fragile balm.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to be strong for me. You’re so strong already just by being you.” You bury your face in his hair, feeling his small body pressing against yours, his little heartbeat steady and comforting in a way nothing else can be. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this, Koji. I promise I’ll be okay.”

Koji’s small hands rub at your back, and his voice, though still a little quivery, carries the same hope and determination he always carries. “I’m gonna help you, Mama. I’ll make you smile again, okay? I promise.” His words, simple as they are, strike a chord deep inside, reminding you of everything you’ve fought for. You’ve fought to protect him, to give him a better life, to shield him from all the pain and hurt that came with being tied to Satoru, and now you’re breaking down in front of him. It feels so pathetic. 

But maybe you need to be broken in order to rebuild. Maybe it’s okay to let him see your fragility, so he knows it’s okay to feel and not bottle everything up. 

You breathe out a shaky laugh, lifting him slightly to kiss his forehead. “You’re my little hero, Koji. I’m so proud of you. I don’t deserve you.”

Koji, however, just shakes his head again, his small face scrunching up in determination. “No, Mama. I’m not a hero. You’re my hero. You always are.”

And somehow, in the midst of the mess you’ve found yourself in, his innocent words are the only thing grounding you. You’re not alone. You’re not broken beyond repair. You still have him. You still have him to fight for, to love, and to protect.

And right now, that’s all that matters. 

You hold him close, sinking deeper into your bed, feeling his small body curl up against you. The weight of the world still feels heavy on your shoulders, but for a brief moment, with Koji’s warmth surrounding you, you feel the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe you’ll figure things out. 

But for now, you let yourself cry. You let yourself grieve. Because tomorrow is another day.

a/n: soo many things happeneddddd. hoped u all enjoyed :)

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[violentdelights-violentendss]

Logan Going Into a Rut.

Would you guys like a part two? I could make a part two if you guys want….let me know how it is and please request a thousand more things I am eagerly awaiting your requests!!! (I am also working on the ones I already got!) I didn’t spell check this….

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Logan goes into a rut earlier than he expected.

Logan had woken up that morning significantly earlier than he usually did. You were still sleeping peacefully next to him, entangled in the sheets you had stolen from him during the night. Logan didn’t mind too much, being always warm. But that morning, he felt even hotter than usual. He slid his hand against his bare chest, feeling it to be slick with sweat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples, before he shook his morning drowsiness and confusion away, deciding he would not be able to sleep any longer. He walked to the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower even if it was the heart of winter.

He wasn’t too mad about the early start, Charles having drowned him in a very extensive list of things to do, not counting the lessons he had to begrudgingly teach that afternoon. Logan stepped outside of the bathroom, fully clothed and ready for the day, even if he still felt a little drowsy. He chalked it up to having eaten too heavily the night before, maybe the digestion worsening his sleep.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he looked decent. He started heading towards the door of your room. Right before he left, he glanced at you, making sure you were still in deep sleep. Logan’s eyes froze on your figure: your sleeping shorts had slid up your body, revealing your thighs, and your braless tits hidden underneath the shirt you had stolen from him begged him to jump back into bed with you. He exhaled loudly. Logan gripped the door so tightly he thought his claws would come out. He needed to go work. He shook his head, cursing Charles as he shut the door behind him.

•

Logan had been running around the X mansion fulfilling various tasks, not noticing as the day slowly, and sluggishly slid forward. The gloominess of the morning left its place to the timid rays of the winter sun, that caressed his back as he finished fixing a broken kitchen cabinet. A multitude of students had already waltzed inside the kitchen, still half asleep. They had uttered a sleepy ‘good morning’, before they grabbed a little food. Logan grunted in response, too focused on the darn kitchen cabinet. The flow of students had significantly slower when he had managed to finally fix it.

Logan slammed down the screwdriver. “Fucking finally.” He closed and opened the cabinet a few times, smiling proudly when the cabinet door did not decide to dramatically clatter to the ground rather choosing to finally stay in place.

“What are you celebrating, baby?”

Your voice startled him, but he quickly turned around, a type of smile reserved for you only gracing his lips. “(Y/N).” You grinned back at him. “I managed to fix this darn cabinet door that someone, managed to detach in the dead of night.”

Your eyes glinted. “You have a gut feeling about who did it?”

“Definitely.” Logan replied, walking around the counter to hold your waist. “I woke up super early this morning.” He added. You pulled back from his chest, worry dancing in your eyes. “No nothing serious, bub, I just think I ate a dinner that was too heavy.”

Your eyes relaxed, pushing up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. You were about to pull back when Logan suddenly deepened the kiss, darting his tongue in your mouth. You leaned back into the kiss, letting yourself be pulled by Logan’s large, warm hands on your waist. The man grunted into the kiss, his body starting to tingle on fire, desire coursing through your veins. The way he was pulling you close seemed desperate, as if he needed you to breathe.

You gasped in shock when his hands slid onto your waist and pressed you against his crotch, feeling his already erected cock. “Already hard?” You whispered, looking down at the evident bulge in his pants. Logan pushed you against the counter, caging you against it. His chest heaved frantically.

“No idea, darling. You’re making me go crazy today.” He whispered, before he dove back into the kiss. You fully lost yourself in it, knowing the kitchen was pretty much deserted at this point in time. He pressed into the kiss, his tongue caressing your mouth, desire making his chest burn incandescently. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands roam on his large back, his scent making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were about to suggest moving it to the bedroom when Logan suddenly pulled back, pressing his crotch tightly against yours and caging you tightly against his chest. You glanced up at him, worried something happened when you noticed his legs were quivering. A moan erupted from his lips, and his hips thrusted against yours. “(Y/N), oh my god!” He grunted. You didn’t know what was happening till you felt wetness from Logan’s crotch, seeping into your leggings, as his head was thrown back, and he panted loudly.

“Did…Logan did you cum?” You asked, startled: he usually lasted more than a few rounds. His endurance was crazy. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, lust blowing his pupils wide. He slowly looked at you, disbelief clearly evident on his face. You tentatively bucked your hips, watching as he shivered.

“I think…” Logan swallowed, reaching his hand to feel his crotch. “My rut might be coming early.” He closed his eyes, cursing himself: the sweat, the ever present arousal, the shitty sleep…it was all there. Your eyes widened, shooting down to the clear stain on his light blue pants, and the evident bulge that was already growing again.

“Fuck, today is not the day for that.” You cursed.

“What, why?” Logan asked, grunting when he felt the head of his cock press against the seam of his jeans. Why did he decide to go commando today of all days.

“I have that overnight field trip with my students! I can’t bail last minute.” You cried, your eyes widening. Logan’s face contorted into a grimace of pain, a curse rolling out of his mouth, as he realized this day would suck. A lot. He would have to spend the day locked in your room, rutting against your panties to try and feel any sort of momentary solace. But he knew you could not desert your students just like that. Even if he acted all gruff and scary, he knew what caring for students meant, and he would not rip their favorite teacher away from them, especially during a field trip that was only supposed to be joyful.

He caressed your cheeks. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I’ll figure it out.” He lied through his teeth, already feeling his skin starting to burn and itch with almost irresistible lust.

You glared back at him. “No, it’s not fine and we both know it. You know what, I’ll come back tonight. I won’t stay overnight. How does that sound, baby? Huh?” You asked, pulling against his shirt to try and get him to concentrate through the daze of lust that was already taking over.

Logan nodded, his head spinning. “Yeah, that would be great, love.” He whispered. You moved against him, trying to reach your phone to check the time, your knee gliding against his bulge. “Fuck!” Logan croaked, throwing his head back.

You locked your phone, glancing up at him. “Logan, baby, I still have 10 minutes. What can I do?” You asked, caressing his chest.

Before he replied, Logan gently grabbed your arm, dragging the both of you inside the supply closet, and locking the door behind you.

Safely inside, Logan closed his eyes, trying to look past his primal instincts, and deem what would be the best course of action. Objectively, fucking you would keep him satisfied the longest, but there wasn’t time in 10 minutes. He discarded his rationality, fully relying on his animal instincts, knowing what they desired in the moment would keep him satisfied the most. “This…might be weird, baby, but I just need to rut against you, please.” His voice was heavy with need.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here for everything.” You reassured him, spreading your legs, letting Logan position his crotch right in between, were he needed to be. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you still as he started to thrust against you. His face soon contorting in a grimace of pleasure, even a drop of drool sliding down the side of his mouth.

Your hands raked Logan’s back underneath his shirt, letting him feel your skin on his. His beautiful eyes slid open, his gaze landing on your tits, that bounced delicately with every trust. “Your tits, babygirl…need to see them.” Logan whispered in your ear. You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck before you unzipped your jacket, revealing your light tank top underneath: you were going out with your students to a nature park, you needed to be sporty.

You reached for your neckline, feeling Logan’s hand wrap around yours to yank your tits out faster. When they were right in front of his eyes, Logan mewled loudly, leaning down to kiss you fervently as his hips started to jackhammer faster.

Somehow, even in the daze of his lust, Logan had managed to perfectly align his tip with your clit, making you see stars. Your moans quickly started mingling with his. His large hands reached your left thigh, hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. “Right - nghh - there! Logan!” You cried, hearing your boyfriend’s quiet pants fill your ears.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants again. God, you turn me into a horny teenager.” He murmured, his rhythm slowing down for a second before it started picking up again.

Your phone buzzed, showing you the time. “Logan…I need to go soon!” You whimpered, threading your hands through his hair.

“I’m close.” He reassured you, his lidded eyes landing on your jiggling tits. They dragged a broken moan out of his lips. Logan was only ever this loud when he was experiencing his rut. “Are you?” You nodded quickly.

The knot in your stomach had been tightening for a while, and reacted the second it was called to attention. You wrapped your arms tightly around Logan, pressing him against you, practically shoving his face in between your breasts. “Logan!” You cried, throwing your head back, as the thigh he was holding quivered in his hand, orgasming powerfully.

The sudden surge of the smell of your arousal made Logan go crazy, sighing against your tits before he pulled back. He stopped for a second, even if he was close. You watched him, dazed, still descending from your high. Through your tired eyes and panting chest, you watched as Logan hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans pulling out his cock. He quickly placed his leaking cock in between your legs, and you had the reflex to shut your thighs to allow him a little more pleasure.

“Fuck. I could fuck you for hours!” He whispered, starting to move his hips as quickly as he could. You leaned forward, licking a strip up his neck, landing on a spot you knew sent him crazy and gently nibbling on it. Logan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sensation of your leggings against his sensitive tip, and your delicate teeth against his neck finally pushing him to the edge.

The orgasm was so powerful he didn’t even have time to warn you. His hips just sped up, his voice ripped away from the pleasure. He didn’t even manage to utter your name, just gripping your waist with his fingers. His mouth snapped open when he felt his orgasm reach him. Logan’s claws sprung out of his hands, puncturing two bags of rice that were placed on the shelves you were pressed against. Just as the rice started tumbling to the ground, Logan cummed, distinctly hearing his cum splatter on the floor.

Your boyfriend slumped against you, his claws retracting, his thighs shivering. You caressed his back, pressing soft kisses against his neck. “You did so well, baby.” You cooed, moving your hands to massage his head. Logan nodded, spent.

Your phone buzzed again, your students asking where you were. You cursed, hastily pulling your shirt back up and zipping your jacket. You clasped Logan’s jawline, forcing him to look at you through his post-orgasm daze. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Love you so much, baby.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against him.

Logan’s hands ran down to your waist, dragging you into a kiss. Your bodies melted together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him closer. Not even a piece of paper could have fit through you. You pulled back, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you. “If we keep going like this, a bigger pool of cum will be on the floor.” You whispered, starting to head towards the door.

Logan grinned, lazily passing his hand through his hair. “Go, have fun. I’ll clean up here. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.” His eyes glinted with an erotic promise. You grinned, blowing a flying kiss. Logan watched the door close behind you, pulling his jeans back up and hastily disinfecting the floor.

He walked outside, quickly going to inform Charles he would be off today before he headed back to the room. He could still feel his buzzing desire for you deep inside his skin, but he felt somewhat satisfied as he threw his shirt on the floor, letting himself fall on the bed. Logan moved on his side, trying to get some sleep to get a break from his lust, but as he adjusted himself on the mattress, his eyes landed on the dirty panties you had accidentally forgotten on the ground. Your scent reached his sensitive nose, drugging him immediately.

Logan glanced down towards his crotch. He was hard again. “Fuck!” He yelled, falling back down on the bed, exasperated. It would be a long, long, day.

[starmocha]

would you still love me if i was a worm? (and other thought-provoking questions) [Sylus/Reader ★ 2100 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] In which Sylus answers many meaningful drunken questions at 2 AM. A/N: Why have I been clowning on this man 🗿 lowkey based on this post I made before his release lol

It was rather common for Sylus to be up at 2 AM, since in his particular line of work, businesses were best done in the dead of night when most people would be asleep. It didn’t help that the N109 Zone was shrouded in eternal darkness at all times, so the entire concept of time felt rather meaningless to most citizens.

What truly was uncommon for Sylus was receiving a call from you at this time in the middle of the night when you should be slumbering away like most normal citizens. He stared at his phone screen where “Kitten” was so affectionately featured prominently onscreen along with his favorite photo of you. He swiped his thumb across the screen to answer the curious call. Nothing, however, could have prepared the leader of Onychinus with your desperate plea: “Crow Man, come pick me up, pleasssseeee!”

Sylus raised a brow as he held his cellphone tighter in his hand. “Crow Man?”

“Is this not Ca-Caw Man?”

“…are you drunk, sweetie?”

“Mr. Big Ca-Cawk, please pick me upppp!”

Sylus set his phone down on his desk and leaned back in his seat, already massaging his temple in slow circles. He had lavished you with such sweet pet names, and in your darling little head, you had just affectionately bestowed upon him the nickname…Big Ca-Cawk.

Sylus inhaled sharply.

He knew he let you get away with a lot of mischievous things, but perhaps this might be the one time he needed to put his foot down. He held his phone next to his ear again, hearing you sniffled:

“Caw-Caw, do you not like me anymore?”

Damn. You were good.

Sylus huffed softly, finding your drunken speech pattern rather endearing now. With a soft smile on his face, he spoke low, “Far from the truth, sweetie. Now, give me your address.”

You relayed to him the address of a late-night restaurant you were at in Linkon City.

“Stay safe,” Sylus responded, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

The call ended and Sylus heaved another heavy sigh before he stood up. He walked pass where Mephisto was roosting on his perch, and Sylus mumbled thoughtfully to the mechanical crow, “Maybe I should just assign you to monitor her 24/7 from now on.”

Mephisto tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by his owner’s odd words. He cooed quietly in response, watching as Sylus left.

With no speed limit in the N109 Zone, Sylus breezed through the city on his motorcycle in a matter of less than fifteen minutes. Through Linkon City, the street was mostly vacant, and he managed to avoid many of the cop hiding spots. It took him roughly another ten minutes to finally pulled up to the restaurant you said you were at.

As he parked his motorcycle, he took his helmet off, eyes instantly narrowing in anger when he noticed you were backed into a wall by a couple of sober sleazebags. Sylus started to walk up to you, his temper flaring when he heard your feeble protests:

“No…I don’t like this. Go away...”

“Aww, come on, sweetcheeks, you look like you could use a rest at a motel with us.”

“Yeah, it’d be in bad conscious of us if we leave a cute girl like you hanging around on the street like this—”

Sylus had heard enough. His hand tightened into a fist, and thick, dark tendrils wrapped around the two men’s necks, easily lifting them up and sending them hurtling down the block. When they gotten up, ready to assault their attacker, they were instantly frozen with fear from just a simple sharp glare from Sylus. He merely snapped his fingers and new tendrils shot straight down the block at the two men, the sight enough to send them running away in terror.

How fortunate for them. Sylus had other important things on his mind this particular night, or otherwise, he would have felt no qualms with ridding the world of two lowlifes.

When Sylus turned to look at you, his gaze softened considerably, a look of exasperation settled on his handsome features. He approached you slowly, his voice soft and gentle, “Sweetheart…”

His eyes widened in shock when you flung yourself against him, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. You sniffled softly, “Sy-Sy…”

Sylus regained his composure and he smiled down at your head, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. “So I am Sy-Sy now?”

He waited for you to calm down, speaking gentle, comforting words to ease your fears. When he noticed you appeared calmer, he led you to where he had parked. After handing you a helmet, he made sure your arms were wrapped tightly around his waist again before he took off, heading to your apartment.

Once he had arrived to your apartment building, he led you upstairs to your floor. He watched in amusement as you attempted to open the door, unable to get your thumb aligned correctly with the biometrics.

“Here,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist and guiding your thumb to match up with the small screen.

There was a click.

The door opened.

You stared in absolute awe. “Sy-Sy is so amazing…”

Sylus chuckled as he led you inside. “Sweetie, how much did you drink tonight?”

You shrugged. “It was Tara’s birthday…and it was our 5000th wanderer kill…and it was also pay day…and—”

Sylus immediately cut you off, laughing. “I get it,” he said, leading you to your bathroom to help you wash up, “You had a lot to celebrate today.”

He watched you smiled happily as you splashed some cooling water on your face. He helped you removed your jewelry before leading you to your bedroom. Sylus crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed you up and down in your black bodycon dress.

“Now, while I do appreciate seeing you in this dress,” he said with a teasing lecherous smirk, “I don’t think it’ll be comfortable to wear to bed, right?”

You giggled. “Nope!”

Sylus’ eyes widened, completely unprepared when you decided to shamelessly take the dress off yourself and flung it at a chair in your room. You smiled sweetly at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties.

Sylus covered his face, groaning softly. “This girl…” He took another look at you happily smiling away at him with not a single sober thought in your head. He turned away, mumbling, “Stay put.”

He sighed and walked into your closet, muttering to himself as he searched for some sleepwear for you, “You suck at drinking, sweetheart, and yet you let yourself get this drunk…”

After spending about five minutes of searching for some decent sleepwear, Sylus came back out to find you on the bed laying on your side, half-asleep. Sylus sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. He gently shook your shoulder. “Come on, sweetie, as cute as you look like that, you need to get dressed.”

You mumbled sleepily, and Sylus took it upon himself to help you get dressed in an oversized shirt and some shorts. This task felt rather foreign to him, since he was honestly more used to doing the complete opposite. As if reading his mind, you fell against him giggling again once you were fully dressed. “Are you going to take my bra off, too, Sy-Sy?”

He groaned again, his brain about to explode. “Sweetie, you are testing me.”

You giggled again and batted your eyelashes at him.

He smirked, slipping his hands under your shirt from behind and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side with your earlier abandoned dress. “It’s a good thing I am such a gentleman who doesn’t like taking advantage of intoxicated women.”

“Sy-Sy is the sweetest,” you agreed solemnly. You leaned up and clumsily kissed him, catching him off-guard for just a few seconds before he chuckled against the kiss, pecking your lips lightly. He pulled away first, amused when he saw your look of disappointment at how quickly the kiss ended.

Sylus pinched your cheek, eliciting a pained yelp that stirred you fully awake. “Next time, you are not allowed to get yourself drunk without me around,” he scolded you firmly, though his facial expression was more gentle than angry.

“But it was pay day…”

One sharp look from Sylus had you clamming up. When he turned away, you let out a soft whine, “Wait…are you leaving me?”

He turned back just in time to see a pout forming on your face. He sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, giving you a slow shake of his head. He knew he was coddling you too much tonight, but he couldn’t bear to leave you alone in such a disoriented state. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered with a smile, “I’m just going to turn off the lights.”

Once the lights were out, Sylus made his way back over to the bed. He chuckled in amusement as you scooted to the center, giving the empty space next to you an enthusiastic pat. Sylus climbed into bed, happy when you cuddled up to him.

“Caw-Caw, I have a question…”

“So it’s Caw-Caw again?” he asked bemused, and then muttered more to himself, “I think I’d rather you call me Sy-Sy instead… What is it, sweetie?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Sweetie, I would feed you to Mephisto,” he answered, not missing a single beat.

“Noooo…” you whined at him with tears brimming in your eyes. You weakly pawed at his arm with little fists, pleading, “Don’t feed me to Mephie…”

“Mephie?” he laughed, astonished that now you had taken the liberty of nicknaming his mechanical crow.

“I won’t taste good,” you insisted with a sweet pout.

“Personally, I think you taste divine,” Sylus teased with the double-entendre, but in your drunken state, you didn’t catch the double meaning. You could only sniffle sadly at him. He rubbed your cheek affectionately with the back of his hand, his crimson eyes seemed so bright in the darkness.

“Sy-Sy…”

“Hmm?” Sylus propped himself up on his elbow, his chin cradled in his hand as he peered down at you snuggled up close to him again.

“Where does the light go when you close the fridge door?”

“Drunk you is just full of silly questions, huh?”

You continued, not caring that he didn’t give you an actual answer to your previous inquiry, “Why do we make round pizza, put it in a square box, just to eat it as a triangle?”

Sylus blinked, sighing, feeling at a complete loss for words. “When you are sober, I’ll make sure to look up the answer for you, sweetie.”

“Sy-Sy?”

“What now?”

“Life is soup.”

Sylus raised his brow in complete confusion, not understanding a single damn word out of your mouth now. He didn’t even know how to respond to the odd comment, so he just continued to stare at you, hoping for a follow-up.

“And I am a fork.”

Sylus pulled you into his arms, laying on his back with you on top of him. “Alright, sweetie, it’s time for bed now.”

You giggled, rubbing your face against his soft shirt, inhaling deeply the faint scent of cologne on him. You sighed happily, smelling the familiar comforting, warm and woodsy fragrance on him. “Would you…” You yawned and rubbed your drowsy eyes, “love me if I shrink down to the size of your thumb?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll just have to keep you safe in my pocket.” Sylus brushed the flyaway hair away from your face, his expression tender as he gazed at your sweet, sleepy face resting on top of his chest. Even though he knew by morning, you wouldn’t remember a single thing from this night, Sylus still couldn’t help but voiced his thoughts and feelings aloud.

“I adore you,” he said, hushed, the weight of his words hung heavy in the stillness of the bedroom, “More than you will ever know.”

You yawned again, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “I love you, too, Mr. Big Ca-Cawk.”

Sylus could do nothing but laughed resignedly, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close to his body, the soft warmth of you against him was calming. Sylus felt a strange mixture of both happiness and bemusement by your drunk words, knowing your intoxicated state was also your most honest side, revealing to him the depths of your feelings for him. He kissed the top of your head, letting his eyes closed to rest as well, as he murmured, “Sweet dreams, you silly girl.”

[lov-3-rs]

Let’s be Honest

Simon Riley (Bodyguard) x Reader!!

(mdni 18+)

Your father is an undercover investigator working a dangerous case on a human trafficking ring. Unfortunately, they somehow discovered his intentions, and now they're out for revenge. So, they’ve put a bounty on your head, claiming you’re worth millions to whoever is able to find you and sell you to the best bidder. Despite the danger, your father can’t abandon his mission as there were other lives on the line. He’s too close to cracking the case, rescuing the victims. To protect you, he hired someone no one would see coming for them and that was going to be protecting you. He hired a Ghost.

————————————————————————————

The moment you saw the brute, you couldn’t believe it. This 6’3”, 220lb, constantly masked man was supposed to be by your side for who knows how long. The sheer size of him was intimidating enough, but the mask? It kept you wondering what kind of man was beneath it.

You couldn’t argue with your father, though. He wanted you safe, and you weren’t about to be taken and sold off to some creep. So, you dealt with it. But now it’s been two months too long. Two damn months of constant monitoring, endless rules, and the same warnings: 'You need to listen to me Y/n,' 'Stay by my side,' or ‘It’s not safe.' It was honestly getting sickening at the fact he had complete control over your day to day life now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I was thinking of going shopping today, get some fresh air,” you say, taking a bite of your breakfast. He stands near the window, eyes scanning the street outside like he always does. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low, almost disinterested. You roll your eyes. “Jesus Christ, why not? It’s just us walking down the street, Simon.”

You started using his real name after weeks of pestering him to tell you. It felt weird calling him “Ghost” all the time—like something out of a video game. What good was being around someone this long if you didn’t even know their name?

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable behind the mask—if there’s an expression at all. Then, just as silently, he turns back to the window. “You never know.” You put your fork down and stop eating, “Simon, I can’t keep going days without stepping foot outside, i’m literally going insane”, he steps away from the window and pulls a chair out to sit beside you. “Everything I do and everything I say is to protect you, that is the whole reason I am here”. you looked into his hauntingly dead eyes. “Please you can’t keep me trapped in these walls”. You say with hesitation in your voice wondering if this will be another useless plea to let him agree for you to get out the house. He paused for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. You smile, “oh my gosh really? we can go?!” you say quickly standing from your chair in excitement. “yes. but the moment I feel something is off we leave, immediately” he says sternly. You were already putting your plate away and running to your room to get ready.

You visited a few of your favorite stores near your house, picking up small items here and there. Simon stayed close, as usual, walking silently beside you. As you stepped out of another shop, he leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We’re going to one more store, then we’re heading home. Do you understand?” You shot him a side-eye but nodded, not in the mood for another argument.

The last stop was the lingerie shop—you had been eyeing their new fall line for weeks. You grabbed a few panties and bras before something else caught your eye: the most stunning, sexy set you’d ever seen. You had to try it on. Walking into the dressing room, you slipped out of your clothes and into the delicate lace set. The fabric felt luxurious against your skin. You peeked your head out, only seeing Simon waiting, his posture as stoic as ever. You stepped out to check yourself in the mirror, admiring the way the set hugged your curves. From the corner of his eye, Simon caught sight of you. His jaw clenched almost immediately as he tried to keep his focus elsewhere, but it was impossible. He’d been around you every day for two months, and he had seen plenty—your tight shirts with no bra, shorts that barely covered anything. He’d always kept his cool, reminding himself that you were off-limits, and he took care of himself whenever you were asleep or when he took a shower. But seeing you now, in something so revealing, stirred something deeper in him that made his jeans tighten. He forced himself to remain still, but the tension in his body betrayed his thoughts. Respect for your father, the job—those were the only things keeping him from acting on what he felt. And he had to keep it that way, or at least he was trying to.

You caught Simon’s gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask, but you could feel something he wasn’t saying. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat. “What do you think?” you asked casually, but your pulse quickened. You didn’t know why you even asked—it wasn’t like you cared what he thought about lingerie. Or did you?

He blinked, caught off guard. “About what?”

“The lingerie,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I thought I’d get a professional opinion.” His jaw tightened more, but you caught the flicker of something in his eyes. “You don’t need my opinion.” You stepped a little closer, testing his boundaries. “Maybe I do.” He stayed still, but you could see the tension in his stance. His voice, when he spoke, was low. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” You laughed lightly. “What? Shopping?” His eyes met yours, and for a second, there was nothing but silence between you. “No,” he said softly, almost reluctantly. “This.” The weight of his words hung in the air. For a moment, neither of you moved. His response was a beat too slow. “You should hurry up,” he muttered, his voice deeper than usual. You rolled your eyes, but his tone made your skin tingle. There was something about the way he held himself that made you wonder—did he see you the way you were starting to see him? You slipped back into the dressing room to change, but the tension lingered, thick in the air. When you came out, dressed again, Simon stood up immediately, his shoulders tense. “Let’s go.” The rest of the walk home was quiet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted.

You walked into the house, setting your bags down and slipping off your shoes. Simon followed closely behind, immediately locking the door and heading to the windows like he always did, scanning the outside for any sign of danger. But your mind was elsewhere, replaying that one word—this—over and over again.

What did ‘it’ mean? You had to know.

“Simon,” you called out softly, still unable to meet his eyes. “What did you mean earlier?” He stiffened immediately, turning to face you. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he’d been hoping you would let it go. He didn’t mean to let that word slip out, and now he was trying to think of a way around it. “What do you mean?” His tone was even, but there was a slight edge to it, a hint of tension. You swallowed, gathering your courage. “You said I was making this hard. I’m not sure what that means… I want you to tell me.” Finally, you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching like he was fighting with himself. His silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, as though he was weighing whether or not to tell you the truth. He turned back to the window, staring outside as if it would give him the answer he needed. “You’re making my job harder,” he said after a long pause, but there was something in his voice—a hesitation. But you had a smirk on your face knowing exactly what it was, “it was the set wasn’t it?” there was a pause, “you thought I looked good, too good right?” you stepped closer to him testing his limits wanting more reaction out of him. “I think you should keep this fantasy shit to yourself” he said quickly snapping back at you, but you kept pushing, “I don’t blame you Simon, I bet it’s been months since you got laid and I won’t lie it’s been a hot minute for me too with you being around me all the time, having me cooped in this house” you can see his brows furrowing. “you’re crossing the god damn line” that’s what he was saying but the raging boner in his pants said completely different about your attitude.

Before you knew it, he was stepping toward you, his hand gripping your arm firmly. “You’re pushing me too far,” he said, his voice low and rough. You met his gaze, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “Maybe I need you to push back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment was charged, and without warning, one of his hands let go from your arm to lift up his mask above his nose exposing his lips. your eyes widen never seeing anything but his eyes for the last few months. Before you knew it his lips were on yours, It was intense and consuming, leaving both of you breathless and more entangled than before.

He picked you up and put you on the dining table. the kiss became more passionate with his hands tangled in your hair, you could feel your core throb waiting to be touched. Simon pulled away from you and looked into your eyes, “you don’t understand how long i’ve wanted to touch you” he says breathing heavily. “all those times you walked around with no bra and I could see your fucking nipples through your shirt and the times you walked around with your ass out, god I wanted to bend you over, i’d fuck you right there and don’t even forget about the times I could here you moaning in the shower doing god knows what to that pussy, ya fuckin minx” your cunt was practically dripping at his words, your breathing became more heavier, “Then do it Simon, bend me over and fuck me” before you could say anymore he already was turning you over on the counter and pulling your pants down. “already planning on it love”. Simon pulled your pants down then slowly pulled your panties down revealing your wet pussy. he bent down to get eye level with it bring his fingers up to your folds and playing with your clit. You moaned at his touched, “fuh-fuck”. Simon pulled his fingers away and replaced it with his tongue, licking your throbbing clit and making you squirm.

He ate you out till you came on his mouth, “Si please”. Simon got up and looked at your bent over form while he started unbuckling his pants, “please what love?” he already knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. “fuck me hard” he smiled at your words taking his hard cock in his hand rubbing his pre cum all over the top of his head giving it extra lubricant. He aligned his cocked to your hole and slammed into you making you jump, “Shhhhhhhit” you hiss out the word from the painful pleasure. He started to thrust in and out of you hearing your moans made him want to cum already but he couldn’t, it felt too damn good to stop now. Simon bent down to your ear, “All those fuckin times you were playing with this tight cunt in the shower, who were you thinkin about huh?”. You didn’t want to answer out of embarrassment but you did it anyways, “y-you si, I thought about sucking your cock and you cumming all over my tits” that snapped something in him when you said that, his pace picked up he started fucking you harder, his balls slapping against your clit. “what would ya daddy think of the man he hired to protect you fucking your pussy raw?”. You could feel your self about to cum, “Si I’m gonna cum on your cock” his thrust became sloppier feeling himself about to finish too, “cum baby, cum”. Simon thrusted harder into your cunt making your back arch more and your ass jiggle against his hips the sight was pushing him over the edge, “god damn baby i’m gonna to cum” his hands gripped into your hips harder. “Simon cum inside me god please”. He busted a load in you, pushing his cock feel in you making sure nothing came out, “fuckin hell”.

After the intensity of the moment subsided, Simon and you lay there in the aftermath, the room now quiet except for your shared breathing. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender. “I didn’t plan for this,” Simon said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and affection. “I never wanted to cross that line.” You turned to face him, your own emotions swirling. “Neither did I, but… it felt right in the moment. I just want to know what this means for us.” Simon looked at you with a conflicted expression. “I don’t have all the answers. This situation is complicated, and I’m still trying to figure out how to balance my feelings with my responsibilities.” he says lowly “I understand,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “I just need to know where we stand. Do you want to try and make this work, or is this something we need to move past?” There was a pause as Simon considered his words. “I care about you more than I should,” he admitted. “But I also need to focus on keeping you safe. We’ll have to navigate this carefully.” You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. “We’ll figure it out together,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“As long as we’re honest with each other.”