#scattering glass everywhere on the floor

[skrunksthatwunk]

how do i tell my roommate that her cat repeatedly pissing on and destroying my things is something that people usually offer to clean or replace or apologize for instead of shrugging off

[nataliedecorsair]

For this Halloween, I present you my MRI monster + a little bonus story about it >:) --

It’s the tail end of October, when the days shrink down to thin slices of cold sunlight. The late autumn air is sharp and crisp. It’s carrying the scent of wet, dying leaves; it stirs a strange feeling inside you, a mix of melancholy and restless hunger for something more. An adventure, perhaps... or something darker.

And why not? You’re young, curious and like everything weird and unusual. For you anything out there is a story, and this one could be a story about the unfortunate abandoned hospital at the end of a broken road. Folks say this place is haunted, but maybe no one’s ever dared to find out for sure. You're certain it is time for you to solve this mystery for good.

You ease your way inside. The door gives a long, miserable creak as it opens, as if it hasn’t been touched in decades. The paint, once green, is almost gray now; it hangs in shreds, peeling off the wood like dead skin. The air in the hallway hits you, stale and thick, smelling of dust and something sour. You pull out your flashlight, clicking it on with a soft snap, and the narrow beam cuts through the dark, scanning over pockmarked walls and the occasional room. But, of course, you don't see anything but empty beds, rusty buckets, piles of ragged fabric left to rot. No signs of ghosts or ghouls - or anything remotely interesting, for that matter.

You explore for ten minutes, maybe more, telling yourself you’ll see something any second now. But after the seventh empty room, you start to think there's no mystery at all. Pretty expectable, isn't it? Or what, did you really think you’d find anything but dust, broken glass, and busted syringes? With a sigh, you turn to go, shaking your head.

You take a step into the hallway, flashlight slicing through the shadows, and that’s when you hear it: a low, dry crrrk-crrrk. At first, you think it’s the old building settling. But then it comes again, irregular and jittery, like static: crick-crack, crick-crick-crack. The sound’s sharper now, that unmistakable staccato of a Geiger counter ticking.

Your heart beats faster. You swing the flashlight in the direction of the noise, but there’s nothing there, just the same hollow walls and chipped paint. Crick-crack-crick. Louder now, closer... For a sick, sinking moment, you wonder if there’s something radioactive buried here, and shake your head in disbelief.

"It doesn’t make any sense," you think. "I don’t even have a Geiger counter." But your mind, stubborn as a mule, wrestles to make sense of the nonsense, to catalog that weird crackle and shove it into some drawer that fits. Maybe you’re just hearing things? The building is old, there could be some pipes. It's always the pipes that make the most uncanny noises.

But the thing making that sound... it doesn’t care whether you understand or not.

You run forward, not watching where you're stepping, and a rusty bucket clatters across the floor. You fumble as your flashlight slips from your hand, the beam ricocheting off the walls and scattering shadows like startled birds. You crouch to retrieve it, fingers scrambling over the filthy, dusty tiles. And that’s when you see it, illuminated by the flashlight laying on the floor.

Feet.

They're human, but wrong. Slightly translucent - and shot through with slowly swirling masses of black and red liquid, twisting just under the skin. You look upward, and you make out the outline of a woman in a tattered, filthy hospital gown. Her body consists of that liquid, contained within the thin walls of her grayish skin. Everywhere but her head. It looks like an MRI scan, flickering between 2D and 3D, a nightmare too strange for your eyes to comprehend. Empty white orbs stare down at you, soulless and wide. She has no lips, but her mouth peels back, revealing a row of long, black teeth: it almost looks like a smile. She leans in, and before you can scream, rushes towards you - and the world plunges into darkness.

...You wake up in your own bed, the morning light spilling through the curtains. What a horrible nightmare you just had! Head feels so heavy, it hurts with this annoying, pulsating, throbbing pain deep within your brain. You feel feverish. You got sick, perhaps? It would explain the dream, so realistic - and so ephemeral at the same time.

With a sigh, you brush your palm through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep... but your fingers snag on something. A clump of hair. You pull it free, bewildered. Since when have you started balding? Confusion morphs into unease as you glance down at the skin of your hand, red and sunburn. Sunburn in October? In this area?

"I should definitely see a doctor," you think, an anxious knot tightening in your stomach. "But not in this abandoned hospital." Nervous chuckle escaped your lips, as you tried to calm yourself down with this silly joke. "I will never go there again, whether it's a dream or not."

…At least, you thought so. -- More spooky art here and here

[pomegranatelifethis]

Family day

Her hands trembled as she carefully placed the cake in the center of the table. A chocolate masterpiece, adorned with delicate frosting that spelled out "Family Day" in her neatest handwriting. She’d spent hours in the Wayne Manor kitchen—flour dusted her fingers, sweat beaded on her forehead, and her heart raced with a fragile hope. This was her chance to prove something. To show Dick she was worth his bright smiles, to earn Jason’s gruff but protective glances, to hear Tim’s sleepy gratitude, and maybe even coax a rare nod of approval from Damian.Today was supposed to be “Family Day.” Dick had mentioned it offhandedly weeks ago: “One day a week, we all get together, you know, like a real family.” That word—“family”—had pierced her like a shard of glass, but it had also sparked something in her. So she baked the cake. She waited for them.Hours ticked by. The sprawling manor was silent except for the faint rustle of Alfred dusting somewhere far off. She checked her phone obsessively—no messages, no calls. Maybe they’re on patrol, she told herself. Maybe there’s an emergency. But a small, broken voice inside whispered the truth: They forgot you.It was nearly midnight when the front door finally creaked open. Laughter spilled into the halls, familiar voices overlapping. Dick was cracking a joke, Jason firing back with a sarcastic quip, Tim muttering something incoherent, and Damian letting out a disdainful “tt.” Her heart leapt. She glanced at the cake, then took a hesitant step toward the door. But no one came to the kitchen. The sounds drifted to the living room—they’d turned on a movie, sprawled across the couches. They didn’t call for her. They didn’t even see her.She stared at the cake. The chocolate frosting had started to melt, the words “Family Day” smudging into an illegible mess. A weight settled in her chest, suffocating her. Her hands shook as she grabbed the cake, and in a surge of raw, blinding anger, she hurled it to the floor. The plate shattered, chocolate splattered against the walls, and glass shards scattered everywhere. The crash echoed through the silent manor, but no one came. No one cared.She sank to her knees, heedless of the broken glass. A jagged piece sliced into her hand, blood trickling down in a thin, crimson line, but she barely felt it. Rage, disappointment, and loneliness churned inside her, spilling out in silent tears. She clenched her fist, driving the glass deeper. “Why don’t they want me?” she whispered, her voice fragile and lost. Blood dripped onto the floor, mixing with the ruins of her cake, as the realization hit her again: She wasn’t their family. She was just… extra.From the living room, Dick’s voice floated through the air: “Man, tonight was awesome, huh?” Jason chuckled. “Yeah, a real family night.”

But she wasn’t part of it.

Tag:@jscrawls @Welpthisisboring @lilyalone @itsberrydreemurstuff

[yuvany]

COUNTING SHEEP

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when you feel exhausted

OT7 enhypen x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + skinship + kisses + petnames + est relationship . . WORD COUNT : 848 . CHECK BOX !!

福 > LIKED THIS ? — " ENHYPEN BEING TIRED "

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You were so tired that you didn't even want to wait until you reached somewhere more comfortable to sleep rather than the cool floor. You didn't mind, but Heeseung did. He walks into the corridor and saw you curled up on the floor with your legs tucked to your chest. He has a questioned look on his face and hunches down. Heeseung figures that you won't wake up, and lifts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom to get a proper sleep. You wake up mid-way and Heeseung asks, "Is my princess finally awake?" You don't respond, but only rubs your eyes. "I must say that you did look comfortable." He chuckles and you kiss him on the cheek.

( rest of the members under the cut ! )

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Nothing worries Jay more than seeing you knocked out from exhaustion. He had seen you step foot into the house and taken a seat on the couch not too long ago, and now, you were out like a light. Jay figured that he could help you out and runs over to your room to grab your blanket and returns quickly to throw it over your limp body, being extremely careful not to wake you up on accident. Then he walks into the kitchen and prepares tea leaves while the water is boiling. After a while, he returns with a hot cup of tea and places it on the coffee table for when you wake up. He leans over and whispers, "Sweet dreams, my love."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Sees your head hovering over your desk with papers scattered everywhere. Jake curiously peeks from the bed and sees that you aren't writing anything and just exhales loudly. "Babe, what's up?" Jake asks, his voice seeming to smooth everything for a second. You groan and stretch your back. "I've been reading this over and over, but I can't seem to comprehend what it's saying." You complain. Jake jumps out of bed and rests his head on yoru shoulder as he looks at the paper. "How about we do it together, so you can sleep faster?" You nod at his idea and in return he kisses you on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Raises an eyebrow at the sight of your tired state, you notice this and raise your own. "What happened to you, sweetie?" He asks, opening his arms for you to walk into. "Wow, thank you." You reply sarcastically. Not accepting his hug. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Talk to me, pretty girl." Sunghoon says, lightly wrapping his arms around your shoudlers. You hug him and sigh into his chest. "Been a rough day at work, love." You say, feeling his palm run up and down your spine. "Let's get you changed and you can tell me all about it." Sunghoon slowly guides you to the bathroom.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo woke up in the middle of the night, wanting to go get himself a glass of water, but when he stumbles into the kitchen he sees you sitting there in front of your open laptop. "Sweetheart? What are you doing up so late?" He asks, his voice sounding huskier than you recognise. "I just remembered I needed to finish this." You say and show him what's on your laptop screen. "It's late though, can't you do this tomorrow?" He asks, his fingers finding your scalp to massage. "But I really need to." You say, but he suts you off and says, "You also need sleep, and I'm in need of cuddles anyway." He pulls you out of your seat and you give in with a sigh.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"I'm so tired, won.." you mumble into his chest, the movie not being in your interest any more. Jungwon draws circles on your shoulder and kisses your temples. "Then we can go to sleep, angel." You hum stubbornly and shake your head. "No need, I can go to bed while you finish this movie." You explain, rubbing your eyes. Jungwon in turn shakes his head too. "It's either both of us, or none, babe." You sigh, feeling bad for him in this situation since you knew how much he wanted to see this film. "I'm not that tired any more," you lied, and he senses this, so he pulls the blanket over the two of you, and snuggles close to you with a smile. "Now it's sorted!"

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You sat beside him while he was playing a video game, and throughout the time you spent together, your head would bump against his shoulder a couple of times due to the long day you already had and the dark setting illuminated by the soft lights of the television screen. Having your boyfriend beside you didn't change much of the fact either. At one point, you dozed off, and Riki hadn't realised it until you started to softly snore. He turned his head and was ready to say something until he saw your tired figure. He smiles to himself and helps you into a more comfortable position before turning off the game and cuddling close to you.

─── ꒰ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗬𝗨𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗬 ꒱

[ consider reblogging and liking this post if you enjoyed it !! I hope you liked this just as much as I did ^3^ ]

[gf2bellamy]

i luvvv what u did with my last req!!

i had a dream abt this one and i NEED it written.

.. but could i request maybe Garcia finding fem!reader's old highschool/college pictures (alone & w friends) and showing them to the team and spencer is just awestruck and intrigued bcuz he cant comprehend how reader has always been so pretty & charismatic.... idk do with that what u will (or nothing at all)

THANK YEW !!!!!!!!!

pictures — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: i'm so glad you liked your last request !! <333 this is such a fun request <3 hope you like this

You carefully placed the last glass into the kitchen cabinet, pushing it neatly into place before reaching for the next one. The soft clinking of dishes and the occasional scrape of cardboard against the floor filled the room as you settled into your new apartment.

From downstairs, you could hear Derek’s voice carrying up the stairs, teasing Garcia about something as she dramatically huffed in response. Their banter made you smile.

You were grateful they’d all volunteered to help.

Footsteps approached, and you turned just in time to see Spencer walk into the kitchen, his long arms wrapped around a large cardboard box. He adjusted his grip slightly.

“Where do you want this one?” he asked, his voice slightly strained from the weight of the box.

You dusted your hands off on your jeans before stepping closer, opening the flaps just enough to peek inside. A small smile crossed your lips.

“Oh, these are my books,” you mused, scanning the spines that peeked through the neatly packed stack. “You can put those in my bedroom—it’s just down the hall, first door on the right.”

Spencer nodded, shifting the box slightly in his arms. “Got it.”

As he turned to leave, you caught his sleeve lightly between your fingers, stopping him for just a second.

“Thanks, Spence,” you said warmly, offering him a smile.

He hesitated for half a beat before giving you a small, almost shy smile in return. “Of course.”

Spencer walked into your room, nudging the door open with his foot before carefully setting the heavy box down on the floor. He straightened up, pushing his hair out of his face as he took a moment to glance around.

The room was still pure chaos—half-unpacked boxes stacked haphazardly, clothes draped over a chair, and a tangled mess of cords near the nightstand—but small details caught his eye.

Trinkets lined your shelves, a few stuffed into open boxes, and a stack of well-worn books rested on the floor beside your bed. His lips twitched slightly, a soft smile forming as he took it all in.

It was so… you.

Before he could linger any longer, a sudden burst of excited chatter from the other room pulled him back to reality.

“Ooooh, now this is gold!” Garcia’s voice rang out, unmistakably thrilled.

Spencer furrowed his brows and stepped out of the room, following the sound of her excitement.

As he entered the living room, he found her perched on the couch, a pile of scattered photographs spread across her lap. Derek was lounging beside her, smirking as he flipped through the pictures, clearly amused by whatever they had found.

The apartment was still mostly bare, the only real piece of furniture being the couch they occupied. Boxes were everywhere, some opened, others still taped shut, waiting for their contents to be unpacked.

“Reid, you have to see this,” Derek said, waving a photo in the air before handing it to him.

Spencer hesitated before reaching for it, his curiosity piqued. As soon as his eyes landed on the image, he felt his breath hitch slightly.

It was a picture of you.

You were younger—maybe early college—dressed in a way that reflected the era, standing with a group of friends, all mid-laugh. Your smile was bright, genuine, and effortlessly captivating.

Spencer couldn’t look away.

He swallowed, flipping through the other pictures Garcia eagerly passed him. Some were solo shots—one of you at what looked like a dance, another of you studying in the library surrounded by books. Others were with friends, arms slung around shoulders.

“You were always a social butterfly, huh?” Derek teased, glancing at you as he held up another photo of you grinning at the camera, surrounded by people.

You, who had just walked into the room, immediately groaned. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Garcia corrected, wiggling her eyebrows. “How is it fair that you were this pretty and effortlessly cool even back then?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating up as you reached to snatch the pictures from Spencer’s hands, but he instinctively held them out of reach for just a moment longer, still completely entranced.

He finally looked up at you, studying you as if he were seeing you in an entirely new light.

“You’ve always been like this?” he asked softly, his voice almost distant, like he couldn’t quite process it.

“Like what?” you asked hesitantly.

Spencer blinked, as if realizing he had spoken out loud. He hesitated before answering, looking down at the photos once more before meeting your gaze again.

“Just… so pretty”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the bashful grin threatening to take over your face. The heat in your cheeks spread all the way to your ears as Spencer’s words replayed in your head.

Just… so pretty.

Garcia was practically vibrating with excitement at this point, clutching a handful of your old photos to her chest like this was the best rom-com she’d ever seen play out in real life.

“Oh, this is delicious,” she cooed, wiggling her brows at you.

Derek smirked, shaking his head in amusement as he clapped Spencer on the back. “Man, I gotta say, I didn’t think you had game, but that? That was smooth.”

Spencer, meanwhile, was completely frozen, his mind short-circuiting as he realized what he had just said—out loud.

“I—uh—” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at you, wide-eyed, as if hoping you would rescue him from his own accidental confession.

But you didn’t. Instead, you just smiled—flustered.

“Well,” you started, shifting your weight on your feet, “thank you, Spencer.”

And that made him even more nervous. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he tried to compose himself. “I—um. It’s just an observation. A fact, really.” He rambled quickly, clearly floundering. “Statistically speaking, attractiveness is a combination of facial symmetry, social confidence, and personal charisma, which you seem to have had from a young age, based on these pictures and—”

“Reid.” Derek cut him off, shaking his head. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

Spencer shut his mouth immediately, ears still burning bright red.

Garcia leaned in toward you with a sly grin, whispering just loud enough for the room to hear, “Oh honey, I think you broke him.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, covering your mouth as you glanced back at Spencer, who still looked like his brain had yet to restart. He was gripping the photos so tightly now, they were starting to bend in his hands.

You reached out and gently pried the pictures from his fingers. His hands twitched at the loss of contact, but he didn’t stop you.

“I’ll take those back now, Doctor Reid,” you teased softly.

The sound of your voice seemed to pull him back to reality. He blinked, mouth opening slightly before he let out a quiet, breathy laugh—part disbelief, part amusement. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

You stepped back, giving him one last, lingering look before turning to Garcia, who still looked absolutely giddy.

“Alright, that’s enough of my embarrassing past for today,” you announced, gathering up the remaining pictures from her lap. “You guys are supposed to be helping me move, not dig into my past.”

Derek chuckled. “You brought that on yourself, kid.”

You shot him a playful glare before turning back to Spencer. He was still looking at you—studying you.

You held his gaze for just a second longer before looking away, tucking the photos safely into a box.

Spencer Reid was still completely, utterly dazed.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

hi can you do another protective rafe x reader, where she wants to escape from abusive boyfriend? 💕

THE CALL

Word Count: 0.8k

Pairing(s): Rafe x Reader x abusive!boyfriend

Warnings: domestic abuse, physical violence, emotional distress

Summary: Rafe saves you from your abusive boyfriend

You sat at the kitchen table, your hands trembling as you tried to keep calm. The tension in the room was suffocating. Your boyfriend’s angry muttering filled the space as he stalked back and forth, his fists clenching and unclenching. You flinched at every sharp movement he made, trying to avoid drawing his attention.

Then, the sound of your phone vibrating on the counter broke the silence. Both of you froze. His eyes darted to the screen just as you did.

Rafe’s name was glowing brightly, the sound of the ringtone cutting through the tense quiet.

“What the hell is this?” your boyfriend spat, grabbing the phone before you could react. “Why is he calling you?”

-

You didn’t answer. Your heart raced as you saw your chance. While he was distracted, you lunged for the phone, grabbing it with both hands and yanking it out of his grip.

“Rafe!” you screamed, pressing the answer button. “Help—”

You didn’t get to finish. Your boyfriend’s hand slammed down on your wrist, ripping the phone from your grasp. He ended the call in one swift motion before turning on you, his face contorted with rage.

“You’re calling him for help?” he roared, his voice shaking the walls. Before you could say a word, he hurled the phone against the tiled floor with a deafening smash. Pieces of glass and plastic scattered everywhere, and the sight made your chest tighten with fear.

“You’re pathetic,” he snarled. Then, without warning, he shoved you hard.

Your back slammed into the fridge with a sickening thud, the metallic surface rattling from the impact. Pain shot up your spine, and you crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

“You think you can go behind my back? Call someone else to save you?” he yelled, towering over you as you tried to push yourself up.

Blood trickled from your forehead where a shard of glass from the shattered phone had grazed you, and your vision blurred with tears.

Rafe’s Perspective Rafe frowned as he stared at his phone, the call ending abruptly after he heard your desperate scream for help. “Help—” And then… silence. His stomach dropped, his heart pounding as he grabbed his keys off the counter. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. He didn’t need to think twice before running out the door, his hands shaking with fury and fear as he started the truck. You had told him things weren’t great at home, but you had never sounded so terrified. The image of you hurt or in danger filled his mind, fueling his need to get to you.

Your boyfriend was still yelling, but his words faded into the background. All you could focus on was the throbbing pain in your back and the faint trickle of blood running down your face.

Somehow, despite the fear clawing at your chest, you managed to push yourself to your feet, bracing against the fridge for support.

“You don’t get to treat me like this!” he screamed, stepping closer.

But then, the sound of tires screeching outside made you freeze. You heard the unmistakable slam of a car door, followed by heavy footsteps.

The front door burst open with a force that shook the frame.

“Get the hell away from her!” Rafe’s voice boomed, filled with a fury you’d never heard before.

Your boyfriend spun around, his anger momentarily replaced with surprise, but it didn’t last long. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he sneered, taking a step toward Rafe.

Rafe didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed the room in two long strides and swung, his fist connecting with your boyfriend’s jaw with a sickening crack. The impact sent him stumbling backward, crashing into the table and knocking over a chair.

“Touch her again, and I swear to God, I’ll kill you,” Rafe snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Your boyfriend scrambled to his feet, blood dripping from his nose, and threw a wild punch. But Rafe easily dodged it, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the wall.

“Get out,” Rafe growled, his face inches from the other man’s. “Now.”

Your boyfriend hesitated, his eyes flicking to you, but Rafe tightened his grip, shoving him toward the door. “I said, get out.”

The man didn’t argue this time. He stumbled out of the apartment, clutching his jaw and muttering curses under his breath.

The moment the door slammed shut, Rafe turned to you, his expression softening as he took in your bloodied face and trembling form.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he said, rushing to your side. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Your lip quivered, and you nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you finally let yourself collapse into his arms.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, holding you tightly. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it.

@ilovethekookprince

@anonymouscameron

@rafecameronsgirfriend

🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗🆘❗

[cutehoons02]

imagine sitting on heejake lap, wearing lipstick and kissing them with it, after sometime lipstick stain start to bloom across their faces or even their collarbone, neck, adam apple area, lips were swollen and pink and they look smitten lovesick, begging u to give them more😫

Bonus if reader wearing a sexy lingerie 🙏🏻

Lipstick Games

*pairing: pervy nerdy Jake x fake innocent girl x frat pervy nerd Heeseung

*tags: Fake good guys, fake innocent girl, nerdy boys, a lot of kisses, degradation (slight) lipstick kisses in body parts, pacifiers, fingering, double penetration, threesome, power games, teasing, +18, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) if you are a minor do not read!!! be nice is the first time I've write a threesome, if you don't like it, not read it

(English is not my native language) 5.4k��️

The room was warm, quiet, soaked with the smell of vanilla tea and sheets scattered everywhere. The curtains let in the golden light of the afternoon, which caressed the wooden floor and grazed your bare calf, where the uniform skirt had rolled up a little too much during the hours spent sitting cross-legged. Jake was sitting on the floor with his laptop on his lap, and now and then he would fix his glasses, clearly so as not to stare at you for too long. His cheeks were bright pink, his fingers trembling imperceptibly on the keyboard. Hee, on the other hand, was smeared on the couch with his legs spread too casually to be innocent. Every time you moved, his eyes slipped on your legs and got lost there. But when you notice, he looks you straight in the eye with a sharp smile and runs his fingers through his hair as if he has nothing to hide. You wore the academy cardigan unbuttoned to the chest, where the white shirt let a glimpse of the red lace bra had arrived spring and the first heat of May had made itself felt. The clothing you wore was not vulgar but enough to drive them crazy. Three hours of study. Three hours when you noticed everything. The way Jake lowered his glasses every time you bent down, trying not to stare too long. The way Hee bit his lip when you crossed your legs. The way they sometimes looked at you… like they forgot you were only three students in a room. You snort and stretch, lifting your arms above your head. The shirt drapes, letting a glimpse of a flap of your lingerie. Your voice is languid, lazy: “Phew… three hours of equations. True eroticism, huh?”

Jake becomes immobilized, his hand still hanging on the trackpad. Hee, from the couch, gives out a half-moan and masks it with a fake cough. "Yes, nothing excites me more than a logarithm. Except, perhaps, the way you're stretching yourself." Hee said sarcastically "Huh? Come on, I'm alone… untie i'm shoulders…" you looked at the two boys with red cheeks and an innocent smile Jake cleared his voice and looked everywhere but you. 'D-Do you want me to print you the charts? Or do you like the pdf?' "Mmm … let me see.” You move slowly towards him, with slow, silent steps. You sit on his lap with a disarming naturalness, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Open the laptop between the two of you, as if you do not feel the way his breathing freezes, or how his hands cling to the sides of the PC so as not to touch you.

"Jake… are you shaking?" you said laughing. 'Me? No! It's just … you're very light. Like … feather.' You laugh quietly, and then just turn around, rest your lips on his cheek with a slow kiss, leaving a crimson imprint of your creamy lipstick that you used to use at school all the time. “Very good. This is for patience.” Hee gets up from the couch shooting. His gaze is red-hot. "Oh, so we're handing out prizes today?" he said sourly. You turn to him, the mischievous smile that cuts your lips. “If you want yours … just ask.” You calmly approach him. You stop a breath away from his face. He's not moving. It just clenches the jaw. "Do you want your stamp too?” you said, looking him in the eye with a little challenge. 'Try to give it to me. But don't blame me if I don't want to take it off anymore.' You lift a little on the tips and print a kiss on the neck, right under the ear and the shade of your lipstick remains, your lips leave a red, shiny, perfect imprint. Hee closes his eyes. His hands clasped to his hips. Jake watches you from behind, dumb. His breath is broken. You just turn around, and look at both of you. “So, shall we go over paragraph seven? Or do you want to confess that you haven't heard a word in at least two hours?” Silence. '…I took notes.' said Jake “I took and studied … more." heeseung said, laughing. You were standing in front of them, your uniform skirt slightly up, your hands behind your back, your cardigan open enough to show the hint of red lace under your shirt. “So … who wants an award for studying well?" you said innocently Jake swallowed empty. Hee barely raised an eyebrow. “It depends on the prize. But if that's what I think, I've already won it.” Before you could even answer, Heeseung grabbed you by the hips and gently pulled you towards him, making you sit astride him, hands resting slowly on your waist. “You've been playing since you walked into our apartment dressed like this … and I'm going crazy,” he said looking at your lips and then it happened. He kissed you. It was not a light or temporary kiss. He was deep, hungry, full of restrained frustration, as if he had waited too long. His lips moved with mastery over yours, and his hands climbed under the cardigan, barely touching your bare back. His breath merged with yours. Jake was motionless. His heart seemed to beat so hard that he felt it in silence. You slowly pulled away from Hee, still short of breath, and turned to Jake, who was sitting there, petrified.

"Do you want me to stop?" you said in a sweet voice He looked at you for a moment. His eyes filled with confusion, desire and … need. 'No. Please … no.' he said softly, you smiled at him, soft, and crawled over the couch to reach him. You took him by the collar of the sweatshirt and lured him to you. The kiss with Jake was different: Tender at first, as if shaking inside. But you gently bit his lower lip and he opened all at once. His hands gripped your thighs, fingers clasping the skin over your socks as he kissed you with increasing impetus. Then you went back to Hee, still with Jake's lips on, and resumed the kiss with Heeseung, this time even slower, denser. The tongues that were looking for each other, the hands that now clasped you as if they had forgotten all inhibition. " You're toxic. I can't stop." he said, panting against your mouth “I don't want you to stop.” you said smiling, you were between the two, one kissing your neck, slowly, leaving trails of chills, while the other grazed your inner thigh, with light, mischievous fingers, still above the fabric. Jake whispered against your skin: 'You are so soft… so hot…' “And I'm still all dressed up. Imagine later … " you said whispering Hee ran his tongue over his lips and grabbed your chin: "You're a problem and I swear I want to lose myself inside of you.” Jake nodded quietly. 'Me too…' And you, sitting there with your heart beating like a drum and your body burning with shivers, realized that this was just the beginning.

The room had become a slow oven, full of desire. The clothes were still (almost) all on, but the temperature had risen to the point where even breathing seemed sinful. Hands slipped, lips searched, and names-yours, theirs-mingled in a continuous, heaving whisper. You were still straddling Heeseung, his strong hands clasped on your hips as he devoured you with deep kisses. Your pelvis moved just above him, you felt his erection press against your thin lingerie, and you felt moist, already lost. Then Jake stepped forward from behind, his hands trembled a little, but his eyes were full of desire, held back too long. He knelt next to the couch, and her hand grazed your inner thigh, rising under her skirt with caution and reverence. ' … You are … wet… you are … so perfect…' he whispered, in a broken voice. "Do you like it?" you said laughing, Jake nodded, biting his lip, then looked you in the eye. 'Can I … take off your socks?' You turned slowly, and with a mischievous smile, you handed him his leg, the skirt that lifted more. He took it in your hands and slowly pulled off your socks, kissing your ankle slowly along the way, with a devotion that made you tremble. When he finished, he stroked your bare skin with his fingertips and moaned softly, like a frustrated puppy.

'It's my turn, now … I want to hear you about me…' "Oh? The little dog wants his turn?" you said raising an eyebrow "Degrade it well, baby. Look how he is on his knees for you… " chuckled Hee, Jake blushed violently, but did not stop touching you. You ran a hand through his hair, gently squeezing it, then moved over him, leaving Hee behind you. You sat on his lap, and you immediately felt how hard he was under his pants. Maybe even more than Heeseung. You began to swing slowly, creating a slow clutch between your wet center and his pants. Jake moaned softly, his hands clasping your hips as if afraid you'd run away. 'Oh God … you are a dream…' he said gasping as you did so, Hee leaned behind you, his hands on your ribs.

"Look how you drive him crazy … and you're still dressed…" said Hee whispering to your earlobe, his hands slipped under your cardigan and grabbed the edge of your shirt. "Raise your arms.” You obeyed, without a breath, and Heeseung pulled off your cardigan first, then your shirt, slowly, leaving you in a bra, red, transparent, provocative. 'My goodness…' said Jake with a twinge of voice, heeseung's lips began to kiss your back, then your shoulders, then your neck. You could feel his tongue, and his teeth, and every contact was a spark. “And look how much you are enjoying his womb… You want to make him cum just rubbing you and who would you first want to love you and who would take you?" Heeseung said laughing. You turned around, with a cheeky smile.

"You ask me to choose… But who said I have to choose?” You moved again, kissing Jake passionately, as Hee's hands caressed your belly, and hips, then climbed to touch your breasts over your bra. It was a fire with three hearts, three breaths, three crossed desires. And you were the center of everything.

Your lips were swollen, reddened, shining with desire. The air in the room smelled of warm skin, broken whispers, and restrained breaths. You pulled that little cherry red lipstick out of your bag. You opened it slowly, with a mischievous smile, and began to pass it on your lips with slow, hypnotic gestures. 'It's too good for you. Christ.' said Jake moaning The two were sitting on the couch, boyfriend to boyfriend, legs spread, stares fixed on you. Jake had the sweatshirt half open and you, with a small gesture, pulled the zip down to the bottom. The fabric slipped away, revealing his thin, nervous, gentle but hidden boyish chest. In Heeseung, on the other hand, you pulled the sweater over your head, leaving it with the skin already warm under your fingers. And then you straddled each other, dressed only in your red lingerie bra and thin thong panties, and you began to kiss them one at a time, slowly, on the chest, on the sternum, to the navel. Each kiss of yours left a subtle imprint of lipstick on their skin, like small marks of belonging.

'You're so so so so,' Jake said, trembling, he did not finish the sentence. He didn't need to. "Brand us. Drive us crazy." Heeseung chuckled softly, you were rocking slowly, your body both moving forward, and you felt how tense they were, how much they wanted you. Your pelvis moved with a slow pace, while their hands clasped your thighs, caressed your back, and whispered warm but also sweet things to you. Then, as you bent down again to kiss them lower, Heeseung let himself be taken by the euphoria. His hand slid to the zip of his pants and lowered, showing the taut fabric of the boxer. "Heeseung," said Jake and you, without losing the rhythm, turned to Jake. "Take off your pants too. I want to see you both.” Jake obeyed, his hands slightly trembling, but his eyes shining with excitement. Now that they were both exposed before you, the tense boxer. You kissed them both, one after the other, not in the most obvious places, but on where it had an effect: lower abdomen, hips, the skin between the ribs, near the groin. "I want you. Now." said Hee in a hoarse voice 'I want you all too.' Jake whispered You smiled, with smudged lipstick and sparkling eyes. "And I want you both.” And while the hands were intertwined, and the bodies were still approaching, you realized that now there was no turning back. But you didn't want to. They were yours. And you tell them.

It was Jake who surprised everyone. Until that moment he had been the timidest, the most attentive, the one who blushed if only you told him "kiss me better". But now, with eyes veiled with desire, he took you by the hand and made you lie flat on the big sofa as if he were opening a gift that he did not know if it deserved. 'Can I make you feel good?' he asked in a soft but confident voice, you Nod, looking at him with a languid smile, but move your gaze to Heeseung, who had already settled by your side, the dark, hypnotized look. "And you already play with me. Here” You pointed to your breasts, still covered by the thin bra. He doesn't repeat it. His fingers were slow but hungry as he pulled it off slowly, freeing you. His lips soon after stick to your bare skin, and his teeth leave little bites amid red-hot kisses. Jake, meanwhile, leaned over you with almost moving adoration, his hands shaking slightly as they slid down your thighs. Then he looked you in the eye. 'You are beautiful. And already so ready…' His words make you tremble. You could feel Hee's breath on your neck, the warmth of his tongue leaving moist traces and his hand clutching your breast with a wild, almost painful birthmark. "Jakey, Hee don't stop…" you said while the hands were looking for their hair "You're already stuttering, angel if you're really greedy, huh?" said Hee as he gently bit your bare breast “I can't get enough…” Your words lit something in their eyes. Hee became more confident, hungrier, he began to suck your breasts with more force, with sadistic and precise slowness. And Jake, without warning, did something that made you stick your fingers in his hair and pull, moaning loudly. 'So good. Let go. You look beautiful when you lose control.' he said in a hoarse voice, your hips move, looking, driving and Jake laughed softly, as he whispered warm words to you, praising you, soiling your mind with sweetness and ferocity together.

"What do you want, mmh? Tell us baby, " said Heeseung biting your ear "More please, more. I want more, " you said in a broken voice, Jake looked up, his eyes burning. “Our girl is insatiable…” "Then she knows who to be with." Heeseung chuckled, and the moment they both bent over you, with their hands and mouths everywhere, you realized that they would not stop until they heard you scream their names. And even later.

Jake licks get faster. More greedy. As if he had finally stopped holding back. His tongue moved with surprising precision, circular, pressing, ravenous. His fingers, still inside you, find the exact spot and hammer it with a constant rhythm. Your breath was breaking. "Oh my God, don't stop I beg you if you are so good I hear you everywhere…" "You want to come?" Hee asked you with a cruel grin, as he squeezed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He was looking at you with those dark, unbrushed eyes. Jake looked up for a moment, his lips moist. 'Say it. I want to hear you ask permission.' "Yes, yes, please let me come, let me do it, I want to come for you, I want to gasp for you " Jake wasted no time. He tucked his tongue between your swollen, taut lips, teasing and then nibbling at your clit with a fresh hunger. Hee, without warning, took you by the throat with a strong hand and dragged you into a deep kiss. His other hand squeezed your breasts, now reddened and tense, nipples squeezed between his fingers as if he wanted to sculpt your pleasure into the body. A hand of yours was embedded between Hee's shoulder as if you were trying to anchor yourself to him so as not to be sucked into the vortex.

The other grabbed Jake's hair, driving him deeper. And then it happened. When Hee bit your lower lip, your body arched. Everything is. The cry that came out of your throat was almost inhuman, and you came. Strong. Trembling. Wet. Under Jake's fingers and ravenous mouth. He did not stop. He still sucked you, like he wanted to savor it all. He drank every wave, every district, with adoration. "You're amazing," Hee muttered, as he stroked your side. "But I want to hear you too." Jake lifted slightly, and with a calculated length, smeared some of your excitement between your lower lips, drawing a line with a finger. "Look how reactive you are. Your pH has literally exploded. Your body is in overload mode, " he said with a perverted nerd grin, eyes shining behind fogged glasses. Then, as if nothing had happened, Jake ran another finger over your lips and brought them to Hee's mouth.

'Here. You deserve to feel how sweet it is.' and Jake smeared your excitement into Hee's lips You looked at them, your hips still shaken by post-orgasm tremors. And in a hoarse, but firm voice: "Kiss me Heeseung. I want to hear you, I want to feel my taste." Hee turned to you, and kissed you. Slow, deep, moist. Your tongues intertwine, and you feel your taste in that shared kiss. The warmth, the intimacy, the transgression you make you moan slowly. It was like touching your essence in a way you never imagined. When you came off, with shortness of breath and inflamed eyes, you saw Jake taking off his boxer, his erection was noticeable, hard, tense, and Hee looked at him with an accomplice smile.

"Wow… not bad for a guy who corrects codes in his underwear on Saturday night," Hee said in an amused tone, then praised him, brushing his side. 'I wonder how many more bugs you could fix… with that.' Jake laughed softly, shy and smug. But there was no trace left of the awkward boy. Just a man who looked at you like he was ready to devastate you. Carefully, respectfully … but mercilessly. 'Do you want even more, good girl?' he asked, fingers already on your skin. You nod. And inside you, you knew it was just the beginning, your breath was still broken by orgasm when your gaze fell on Jake. He had just taken the boxer, It was thick, venous, tense. The glans was shiny, pearly from his excitement. His gaze was tense, his lips ajar. And yet, even in the most raw moment, he looked at you as if you were sacred. 'Good girl…' he muttered. 'Now take away yours too.' You turned to Hee. His smile was lazy, smug, his torso reclined as if he wanted to be served. You slowly pulled the boer It was slightly curved upwards, crossed by visible veins. You licked your lips thoughtlessly, and the two looked at each other, sharing an amused expression. "So," Hee muttered, stroking your cheek. "Who do you want to fuck first, baby?' You looked at them both, one at a time, feeling their cheeks flare up. It was an embarrassment, yes, but also a burning desire. Your lips barely opened, your voice a whisper: "Both of you…" Jake rolled his eyes.

'Fuck…' was all he could say. Hee smiled at you with surprising sweetness, even with hunger in his eyes. He gently stroked the back of your head and said, "You are the most beautiful thing we have ever wanted. You're so brave. So ours." You bit your lip. "I've never done it… with both. Not like that.» Jake took your hand. 'Neither do we. But if you trust us, we'll fill you up. We give you everything. Everything you deserve.'

Your heart beat like a drum, but you nodded. Jake sat on the couch, legs slightly spread, erection pointed high. He beckoned. 'Come here. Come on top of me.' You reached him, and Hee knelt behind you, hands already on your skin, hot, hungry. "I'll wait for Jake to be inside you… then I'll get you ready. I want you to hear everything. But good." His fingers crept between your thighs, sliding into your still swollen, still sensitive slit from the first orgasm. He picked up your excitement, viscous and warm, and slowly smeared it between your buttocks, massaging you slowly. You turned, trembling, and climbed over Jake. His hands grabbed your hips as you settled down, feeling the tip of his erection touching your intimate lips. "Raise a little …" said Hee, and you obeyed, lifting your pelvis just enough. Then you felt Hee's first finger slip behind you, slow but firm. He gently let him in, using your own lubrication. You screamed quietly, surprised at how intense it was. Jake stroked your hips, his voice hoarse: 'Is everything okay? Are you sure, baby?' "Yes…" you gasped. "Do everything. Fill."

Jake calmly guided you, sliding you along its length, first teasing your entrance, then sinking flat, an inch at a time. The feeling took your breath away. It was hot, hard, deep. He opened you with patience, adoration. It made you feel revered. Behind you, Hee kept preparing you, his fingers moving masterfully, as he watched your body shake with each other. Your heart was pounding, but your voice was still: "I'm ready… I want to hear you both." Jake kissed you softly on the chest, on the neck. Hee bent over to lick your back, your spine. Jake was already completely inside you. Every fiber of your body trembled with fullness, with the warm, pulsating feeling that invaded you as you squeezed it with force. You felt full, full, as if you had finally found the exact center of yourself. You groaned softly against his shoulder. "I hear you… everywhere. You're so … big…" Jake gasped, his voice broken. 'Christ, you're tight… you're driving me crazy…' You wrapped yourself around him, clutching your arms over his shoulders as you began to ride him, slow, deep, looking for rhythm. Each thrust was a mixture of fire and sweetness as if you were melting something you had always kept hidden.

Then, a second contact. A new pressure, lower, more decisive. Hee's tip had settled right there-against your other entrance, still inexperienced, but carefully and patiently prepared. You turned your head, your breath uncertain, and you looked at him with eyes veiled with desire. "Put one arm on my shoulder… and one on his," he whispered in a firm voice. You did it, letting yourself stretch between the two like a bridge, a living bond between them.

Jake barely lifted his pelvis, letting his member still graze you from inside. 'We'll catch you in perfect sync…' he whispered, eyes fixed on yours. "You'll be all ours." Nodded slowly, the heart beating like a drum. "I go in first," Hee said, looking at Jake "Then it's up to you." When it sank into you, your voice broke into a cry. It was too much, too intense — but you didn't want them to stop. It was a new fire, sweet and brutal at the same time, something that touched the edge, but with two hands that held you firm, two hearts that beat against yours. Then hon came in again, and this time… they were both inside you. Scream. You cried almost with pleasure. You buckled, lost in a vortex you never even imagined. "I'm… I can't… oh God … you're … you're …" you stammered, unable to put a sentence together. 'Tell me what you feel, love…' muttered Jake, kissing your neck. 'Are we fucking you right?' "It's too much … it's beautiful… you're … filling me… so much… I can hear you everywhere…" Hee kissed you between the shoulder blades, hands clasped to your sides, holding you still as he began to move. "You can take us, I know. Look at how you're welcoming us… that's what you were born for." 'Can we move?' asked Jake, his voice broken by desire. "Yes … yes … move, please…"

And they moved. In perfect alternation, like two currents flowing within you. jake was sweeter, slower, and often lifted to push with depth and attention. Hee, on the other hand, took you more forcefully, his hands guiding you, holding you as if you were only his. And you, in between, with your body arched, let every wave of pleasure pass through you. Every groan, every sigh, every whisper was shared. Your name was said in a low voice, like a prayer. Jake stroked your belly, feeling you tremble. 'You're perfect… you're our girl. The one we always wanted.' Hee slowly bit your back, leaving warm, possessive marks. "Look how you're taking us… we won't stop you until we hear you both scream our names." And you, among them, gave in. You opened up. You gave yourself completely. It was a strange love, that of nerds. Full of numbers and details, almost manic attention. But there, on that couch, it was only flesh, heart, and desire. Devoted only to you. How about you? You've never had so much.

There was no more shyness in Jake. Not now. His breathing was rough, his hands firm on your sides as he pushed you against his body with deep, loud, hungry blows. Every time it sank, your body welcomed it as if it didn't want to let it go. A dark groan escaped from his lips. 'God … your pussy … sucks me in like I'm made to keep me there forever…' He kissed you in a disorderly, ungainly way, between strokes, as if the mind could not hold the desire and sweetness at the same time. But the way he looked at you … made you feel both revered and degraded. 'You're our good girl, aren't you?' he whispered against your skin. 'Or just a perverse little nerd who wants to feel used by those who adore you?' Hee, behind you, was quieter, deadlier. His thrusts became deeper, more precise, and more raw. His grip on your hips was firm, and when you moaned "It's too much…", you squeezed both of their hair with your trembling fingers.

Hee lowered his voice, scratching your ear with a whisper that made you vibrate from within. "Too much for whom? For a girl who wanted them both in from the beginning? Which opened up as a damned sacrificial offering?" He gently stroked you, then added with perverted sweetness: "You're taking everything, and you're doing it damn well. I knew that beneath that innocent face was our insatiable little creature." Jake giggled, kissing your collarbone as his fingers sought your center. 'Look how it moves. He's shaking. We drive her crazy, Hee…' You felt the thrusts of both like alternating waves, one hitting you in the heart and the other in the throat. You moved, you wiggled, no longer knowing where you ended and where they began. Then Jake whispered, " You're so swollen … let me tease you a little, baby…" and began to massage your clit with her dexterous, quick fingers, darn aware of your sweet spot. "Stop," Hee ordered behind you, in a hoarse voice. "I want to go deeper. Don't run away from me." 'Don't make him angry,' Jake added with a grin. 'He loves to punish good girls who get too impatient…' And as his fingers pinched your pleasure, as Hee pushed deeper and held you open as if it were his, you felt the body break into a glowing wave. "I'm … I'm coming! "Yes, come for us…" they whispered almost in unison. Your body collapsed against Jake's chest, legs trembling, as an orgasm swept you with the force of a tide. The muscles tightened around them, and you both felt moaning against your skin. But it wasn't over.

"Who … who do we fill first, baby?"said a voice, you no longer knew who. They were one entity now. "Which of your holes do you want us to dye with our pleasure?" "Everyone …" you groaned. "Everyone … do it…" A shiver ran through your body. You felt they were about to explode inside you. And you wanted to keep them. Both of you. They were yours. And you were them. The breath escaped you in a sob of pleasure when Jake once again sank into you. His body trembled against yours, and his moans—almost stammered, choked with need—scratched your soul. 'Fuck … you're so hot, so tight…' he muttered against your neck, as he clutched at you. 'You're … perfect. You're mine, ours.' You felt yourself burning inside as his pleasure mounted, irrepressible. And then you felt it explode in you. A quiver, a moan, and then his body straining as his heat poured into your hungry flesh. You closed your eyes, moaning softly, your chest against hers. "Jake … you're … filling me up…" he whispered with difficulty, his voice trembling. "Don't stop…" He pushed again, slow, deep, as if he wanted every drop to stay in there. And when she finally came out, a hot thread slid down your bare thighs. But there was no time to catch your breath, for Hee grabbed you from behind, with a determination that made you tremble. "We're not done yet, baby!"

Hee set you up with his chest pressed against Jake's still tense abs, your hands open above him, and held you tight by his hips as he guided his desire against your second entrance. Your breath broke when you heard his tip knock softly, then more decisively. "Wait … Hee … it's too much—" "Shh," he interrupted you in a velvety but cruel voice. "He always says it at first… and then cries with pleasure as he asks us not to stop." His hand stroked your back carefully, as it penetrated you with torturous slowness. And when it was all inside, you felt broken in two, full in every part of you. He began to move, pushing stronger, more true. He made you gasp, moan, tremble. 'Look how beautiful she is as she takes us both,' Jake muttered, still panting beneath you, as she gently stroked your hair. And you, unable to answer, stammered between the broken breaths. "S-you're too… I can't … I can't…" But it was a lie. You wanted them both. Always. Hee took your chin, without stopping. "Little innocent fake … don't pretend now. Look how you take us, how you want us. You were born to be filled by us." And then, sweeter, brushing your lips with a long kiss: "And we will never let you go." The rhythm became wild. Hee's every push made you moan disarticulate, and Jake whispered sweetness in your ear as his hands stroked your belly and taut breasts. Then the touch on your clitoris: gentle, precise, devastating. 'She's coming again,' jake muttered. 'She's so good. She's shaking. Do you feel loved, baby?' "Yes … yes … I want you inside, always…" Hee moaned dark.

"We want you full of us. Inside every bend, every breath." Their words got mixed up in your ear as the orgasm broke you. Your body bent, liquid, around them. Jake kissed you softly. Hee held you tight. And then you felt it: Hee's body shaking, his moans against your skin as he filled you with all of himself. They let you go slow. They laid you on the couch carefully, as if you were sacred. jake took your hand, and kissed you. 'You got into it, you know? Not only in the body … also in the head.' Hee, sitting next to you, gently stroked your thigh. "You've created a problem now. Because now we are in love and obsessed with you."

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[p0orbaby]

Sinners | Envy

summary: jealousy rears its ugly head

warnings: SMUT 18+, use of a strap, dom!leah, angry sex

a/n: this one’s a little feisty

word count: 1.3k

Lust | Gluttony | Sloth | Greed | Wrath | Pride

-

Leah’s face is flushed, her eyes blazing with an anger that mirrors your own. This argument has been escalating for a while now, words sharpening into knives that cut deep. The room is thick with tension, the remnants of the stupid awards ceremony still hanging in the air like a bad smell. You can still hear the distant echoes of laughter and conversation from the afterparty, but here, in the suffocating silence of your living room, everything feels like it’s on the brink of exploding.

“Are you seriously trying to make this about me?” Leah snaps, her voice razor-sharp, slicing through the fragile calm that had barely been holding. “You were practically draped all over her. I invited you, for fuck’s sake. Do you have any idea how that made me look?”

You shove a hand through your hair, your frustration boiling over, turning your blood to lava. “I was just being friendly! You act like I’m not allowed to talk to anyone but you. That’s not my problem if you’re feeling insecure”

Leah’s eyes narrow into slits, and she steps closer, the heat radiating off her body making the air between you both almost unbearable. “Insecure? I’m not insecure. I’m pissed off because you’re being fucking disrespectful. You think you can just waltz in there and flirt with everyone while I’m supposed to sit there and smile?”

Her words sting, lashing out and striking nerves you didn’t even know were exposed. But beneath the surface of your anger, something else bubbles up—a twisted, burning need that’s just as furious and insatiable as the rage. You can’t deny the way her jealousy, her possessiveness, ignites something primal in you.

Before you can think twice, before you can convince yourself that fighting her off is the right move, you surge forward, grabbing her shirt and ripping it open, buttons scattering across the floor like shrapnel. Leah’s eyes widen in shock for just a moment, but then she’s on you, her hands yanking at your clothes with a savage desperation.

“You want to make a scene?” she growls, her voice rough and feral as she shoves your pants down your legs, nearly tearing them in the process. “Let’s fucking make one”

Clothes are discarded carelessly, the fabric pooling on the floor as your bodies clash in a heated frenzy. Leah’s hands are everywhere at once, her touch rough, almost punishing, as she presses you against the cold glass of the living room window. The sensation sends a shiver through your overheated skin, the stark contrast heightening the tension coiling in your belly.

Your breath fogs up the glass as Leah’s fingers slide between your legs, her touch demanding, insistent. “Stay right where you are,” she orders, her voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. “I’m going to show you exactly what happens when you step out of line”

You shiver at the raw authority in her voice, a mix of fear and arousal twisting in your gut. But the words that spill from your lips are defiant, almost mocking. “You think you can just control me? I’m not some toy for you to play with, Leah”

Her fingers pause, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed her too far. But then she’s right up against you, her body pinning you to the glass, her breath hot against your ear. “Oh, you’re not just a toy. You’re mine,” she hisses, her voice laced with a dark promise. “And I’m going to make damn sure you never forget that”

She pulls away abruptly, and you hear the rustle of her moving across the room, followed by the unmistakable clatter of a drawer opening in the distance. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation and dread warring inside you. When she returns, she’s holding a strap, her eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and something darker, more primal.

“Since you want to act like a little brat,” Leah says, her voice low and intense, “I’m going to show the world who you belong to”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond before she’s positioning herself behind you, the cool plastic of the strap pressing against your entrance. You barely have time to brace yourself before she thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, the sensation almost too much too fast.

Your gasp echoes through the room, your body instinctively arching away from the cold glass as Leah grips your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Stay still,” she commands, her voice brooking no argument. “You’re going to take every inch of this, and you’re going to love it”

You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips as she starts to move, her thrusts deep and punishing, each one driving you further into the window, the cool surface biting into your overheated skin. The pleasure is sharp, almost painful, but it’s exactly what you need, what you’ve been craving since the argument began.

Leah’s pace is relentless, her hands tight on your hips, her body pressing into yours with each thrust. “Tell me you’re mine,” she demands, her voice a fierce whisper, her breath hot against the back of your neck. “Say it”

You grit your teeth, stubbornness flaring up even as your body betrays you, pushing back against her with each thrust. “I’m not yours,” you manage to gasp out, even as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core.

Leah’s grip on your hips tightens almost painfully, and she leans in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’re about to be,” she growls, punctuating her words with a particularly hard thrust that nearly knocks the breath out of you.

Your defiance crumbles under the weight of her dominance, the pleasure and pain blurring together into a dizzying whirlwind that leaves you gasping for air. The slap of her skin against yours, the rough drag of the strap inside you, it’s all too much, too overwhelming.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Leah demands again, her voice harsher now, tinged with frustration and something more—desperation, maybe. “Say it, or I swear I’ll fuck you until you can’t speak”

The threat sends a thrill through you, your resolve wavering under the onslaught of sensation. “I’m… I’m yours,” you finally gasp out, your voice trembling, the admission dragged from your lips like a confession.

Leah’s pace doesn’t falter, but you can feel the satisfaction radiating from her, a dark chuckle vibrating through her chest as she leans in to nip at the back of your neck. “Good,” she murmurs, her tone dangerously soft. “Because you belong to me, and I’m going to make sure you remember it”

Each thrust drives the point home, the rhythm of her movements becoming almost hypnotic, your body surrendering completely to her control. You’re pushed closer and closer to the edge, your hands braced against the window, your breath fogging up the glass as you struggle to hold on to any semblance of control.

But Leah doesn’t give you that luxury. She fucks you harder, deeper, her grip on your hips unrelenting, her dominance absolute. “Look at yourself,” she demands, her voice a low growl. “Look at how good you take me. How much you need me”

Your eyes flicker open, catching your reflection in the window, and the sight that greets you is almost too much. You’re pressed up against the window, your skin flushed, your lips parted as you pant for breath, Leah’s body moving behind you with a determined ferocity that leaves you trembling. The image is raw, primal, and the sight of yourself like this—vulnerable and utterly dominated—sends you spiraling over the edge.

You come with a cry that echoes around the room, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you, Leah’s name falling from your lips like a prayer. But she doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, driving you through the aftershocks, her own breaths coming in ragged gasps as she holds you steady.

When she finally pulls out, you’re left slumped against the window, your body trembling, your mind a hazy blur of pleasure and exhaustion. Leah presses a kiss to your shoulder, her touch now gentle, soothing the sting of her earlier roughness.

“Remember, please” she murmurs, her voice low and almost tender, her lips brushing against your ear. “Remember that you’re mine”

[dearlenore]

HIS OTHER GIRLFRIEND • S.REID

SUMMARY: Highschool wasn’t Spencer’s proudest year by far, let alone college where he continued getting bullied for being so intelligent for his age, still, there was one girl who showed him kindness, his first girlfriend. However, with her recent passing he begins to see things…

PAIRING: ghost!fem!reader x spencer

tags: slightly toxic relationship, obsession, schizophrenia mentions, blood mentions, manipulation, yes reader is an adult please don’t hurt me…

a/n: i usually write fluff so i wanted to write something darker, I promise it’s nothing criminal, this is based on the song sex with a ghost and Coraline a lil bit so enjoy!!

w/c: 2.1K

THE FIRST TIME you appeared, Spencer thought he was dreaming.

He’d been working late — mind spinning through pages of case files, each crime scene photo bleeding into the next. Bloodstains blurred in his vision, each detail twisting in his mind like puzzle pieces that refused to fit. He hadn’t eaten in hours, hadn’t slept much longer. His apartment felt cold, the hum of the overhead light grating against his nerves.

And then he saw you — just a flicker at first, a flash of movement near the window.

He blinked hard, assuming it was his overtired brain playing tricks. But when his vision cleared, you were still there — standing just beyond the glass, eyes wide and watching.

“…No,” he whispered, breath catching in his throat.

You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t be real.

He shot up from his desk, crossing the room in hurried strides. When he reached the window, you were gone — like smoke dissipating in the wind.

He barely slept that night.

The next time he saw you, Spencer was at work.

He’d been sitting in the bullpen, flipping through notes on a string of homicides in Nevada. The team was busy around him — Hotch pacing near the conference room, JJ whispering urgently into her phone — but Spencer barely noticed. His focus kept breaking, thoughts scattering like marbles across a tile floor.

That’s when he caught sight of you again — standing just beyond the glass doors that led to the hallway.

His heart stopped.

You stood there, half-hidden in shadow. That familiar smile — soft and crooked — tugged at the corner of your lips. For a moment, it felt like school all over again. You, sitting next to him in the library, whispering quiet jokes when no one was watching. You, pulling him aside in the hallway when his classmates left cruel notes taped to his dorm.

You’d been kind. One of the only people who had.

“Spence?”

His head snapped up.

Emily stood beside him, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“I… yeah,” he lied, throat dry. “I’m fine.”

When he glanced back at the doors, you were gone. He almost felt… disappointed.

By the fourth time you appeared, Spencer knew he couldn’t keep ignoring it.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself one night, pacing his apartment. “This isn’t real. You’re just… stressed. Sleep-deprived.” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair. “You’re not actually seeing her.”

But then you spoke.

“You always did overthink things, didn’t you?”

He froze.

Slowly — cautiously — he turned toward his couch.

You sat there, curled up comfortably like you belonged in his apartment. The you two had always dreamed of before. Your head tilted against the cushion, that familiar glint in your eyes like you knew something he didn’t.

“You’re not real,” Spencer whispered.

You shrugged. “Real enough.”

He shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, no, no…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Spence.” you said softly.

When he opened his eyes, you were still there — still smiling, still you.

Spencer didn’t tell anyone.

He couldn’t. How could he explain that the ghost of his high school crush was following him? Watching him? Speaking to him?

You lingered everywhere — in his apartment, at work, even in the passenger seat of his car during long drives. Sometimes you were quiet, watching him with a small smile like you were waiting for him to say something. Other times, you weren’t so silent.

“You’re overcomplicating this,” you murmured one night as he agonized over a file.

Spencer flinched, your sudden voice slicing through his thoughts.

“Could you not do that?” he muttered.

“Do what?” you teased, stretching out across his couch.

“Interrupt me.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “You’re so lost in your own head you’d forget to breathe if I wasn’t here.”

“I was doing fine before you showed up,” he shot back.

“You sure about that?”

Spencer’s jaw tightened.

“Look,” you said softly, sitting up now. “I just… I want to help.”

“You can’t help,” Spencer snapped. “Because you’re not real.”

“I’m real enough to know what you need.”

“And what’s that?”

“You need someone who understands you.”

Your voice had softened again — low, familiar, almost warm.

“You’ve been drowning in this job,” you murmured. “All these faces… all that blood…” Your hand reached toward his, fingers curling gently around his wrist. He couldn’t feel it — not really — but somehow, it still sent a chill racing down his spine.

“I know what it’s like,” you whispered. “I know how hard it gets.”

“I don’t need your help,” he said, but his voice faltered.

“You always say that,” you murmured, your gaze darkening. “But you always did need me, didn’t you?”

Spencer’s chest tightened. It wasn’t long before you became… persistent.

You lingered closer, appearing at his desk more often — your voice slipping between his thoughts like static on a radio.

“You’re not going to find him if you keep looking in the wrong places,” you chided one day, glancing at his map of crime scenes. “You’re too focused on the bodies.”

“I have to focus on the bodies,” Spencer muttered, voice low enough that no one around him could hear.

“You’re missing the pattern,” you said, your voice dancing at his ear. “You know better than that.” You slung your arms around his neck from behind, smiling kindly at him.

Spencer’s breath hitched. “What pattern?”

You laughed — sharp and knowing. “Think, Spence. You’re smarter than this.”

For hours, he scoured the files, your words crawling under his skin. And then — suddenly — it clicked.

“Hotch!” Spencer practically shouted, bolting upright. “He’s targeting bus stops — not just random locations, but stops near hospitals. He’s watching doctors and nurses.”

The entire team turned toward him in surprise, but Spencer barely noticed.

When he glanced back at his desk, you were gone.

It wasn’t until he found himself arguing with you — loudly — in an empty elevator that Spencer realized how bad things had gotten.

“Go away!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I’m only trying to help you,” you shot back, your voice calm and sweet, almost understanding .

“You’re not helping!”

“Then why do you keep listening to me?”

Spencer’s breath came fast and shaky. “Because I don’t have a choice…”

“You always have a choice,” you murmured.

And suddenly, you were closer — standing just inches away, so close he could almost feel your breath against his face.

“You love me,” you whispered.

“I don’t, not anymore… I moved on” Spencer choked out.

“You do,” you insisted. “You still do, you wouldn’t leave me like that!”

His chest felt tight, his vision swimming.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” you said sweetly, reaching for his hand. “I’m the only one who ever could.”

Spencer’s heart pounded so hard it hurt.

“You’re not real,” he murmured. “You’re not real…”

But when the elevator doors opened, you were still there — pouting like you used to when you were extra upset at him.

“Here I am working my butt off for you while you chase that blonde girl and this is the thanks I get?!”

The first few days without you felt like static — a dull hum in the back of Spencer’s mind, easy to ignore if he kept himself busy enough.

But the quiet didn’t stay quiet for long.

His apartment was colder without you. The empty space on his couch, the silence in his head — it gnawed at him. At first, he told himself it was a good thing. He needed focus. He needed to clear his mind.

But then came the mistakes.

He started showing up late to meetings, misplacing notes he swore he’d written down. His mind drifted during briefings, and even when Morgan elbowed him or JJ shot him worried glances, Spencer couldn’t pull himself together.

He told himself he just needed sleep.

But sleep never came easily without you there.

It wasn’t until the team was knee-deep in a case in Seattle that Hotch finally confronted him.

“Reid,” Hotch said sternly as they gathered in a conference room. “This is the third time you’ve mixed up victim details this week.”

“I know,” Spencer mumbled, rubbing his temples.

“You knew the details, but you still got them wrong,” Hotch pressed. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m fine,” Spencer snapped too quickly.

“You’re not,” Emily cut in, her voice softer but still firm. “We’re worried about you.”

“I said I’m fine,” Spencer barked, pushing back from the table.

“Where are you going, kid?” Morgan called after him.

“Out.”

Spencer didn’t know where he was going — only that the walls felt like they were closing in.

By the time Spencer made it back to his apartment that night, his mind was buzzing — loud and sharp.

“Where are you?” he muttered under his breath, pacing restlessly.

He checked the couch — empty. The kitchen — still cold. The corner of his bedroom where you sometimes liked to linger — nothing.

“You can’t just — just leave like this,” Spencer stammered, his voice rising. “I need you.”

The silence stretched out, sharp and unbearable.

“I said I needed space, I know,” he mumbled, his breathing quickening. “But I didn’t mean it like that. I was… I was frustrated. I didn’t mean to push you away.”

Still nothing.

Spencer’s chest tightened.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Just… just come back.”

His apartment stayed cold.

The next morning, Spencer barely made it through the briefing.

“Did you even hear a word I just said?” Hotch asked, his sharp gaze locking on Spencer.

“I… yeah,” Spencer lied.

“No, you didn’t,” Hotch said flatly. “You’ve been out of it for days.”

“I’m fine,” Spencer muttered, gripping his pen tightly.

“You’re not,” JJ said gently. “Spence, whatever’s going on… you can talk to us.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Spencer snapped, shoving his notes into his bag. “I have work to do.”

That night, when Spencer stumbled back into his apartment, you were there.

He froze in the doorway.

You sat on the arm of his couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your gaze — once warm and teasing — was cold and sharp.

“You’re back,” Spencer breathed, his chest tightening with relief. “Thank God…”

“Don’t,” you said flatly.

Spencer’s face fell. “What?”

“Don’t act like you care.”

“I do care,” he insisted, stepping closer. “I’ve been losing my mind without you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered bitterly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your gaze hardened. “You’ve been busy,” you said, voice cold. “Too busy to notice.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t?” you scoffed, standing up now. “You’ve been flirting with every girl who smiles at you. Coffee shop girl, the one from the bookstore, that waitress the other night… I’ve been right here, and you’ve barely even noticed.”

Spencer’s breath caught. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you cut in, voice quieter now. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it… but it still felt like you forgot about me.”

Spencer’s chest tightened, the guilt heavy and sharp.

“I could never forget you,” he said softly, taking a step closer.

You scoffed faintly, but there was no real bite behind it.

“I mean it,” Spencer pressed, stepping closer again. “I was… I was trying to forget how much I missed you.” His voice faltered for a moment. “I thought you left for good. I thought… maybe you were done with me.”

Your expression softened, a flicker of the warmth he’d been missing in your eyes.

“You’re the only person who’s ever really understood me,” Spencer said quietly. “I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to,” you murmured.

“I mean it,” Spencer promised. “I won’t — I won’t do that again.”

For a moment, you just watched him — searching his face for something, maybe to see if he really meant it before hugging him, despite the chilling touch, he felt … warm.

“I believe you,” you said softly.

Spencer exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief.

“You’re stuck with me, you know,” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on,” Spencer murmured.

The next morning, Spencer walked into the bullpen feeling… normal. His head was clearer, his thoughts sharper. For the first time in weeks, he felt like himself again.

“Morning, genius,” Morgan called from across the room. “Look who’s back.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said, smiling faintly as he set his bag down.

“You seem better,” JJ added, giving him a warm smile.

“I feel better,” Spencer admitted.

When he turned to his desk, you were perched comfortably on the edge, legs swinging slightly as you grinned at him.

“Told you,” you said smugly. “You’re hopeless without me.”

Spencer chuckled softly, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” he murmured under his breath, “I know.”

[star-har]

fading

Gojo Satoru x reader | angst

it’s your birthday.

gojo’s been dreading it.

it had felt like carrying a heavy weight— a boulder that grows in size as the days passed by, until the calendar finally marked what he’s been fearing.

when he wakes up on your morning, he can’t get out of bed. doesn’t see a reason to.

it’s raining, loud and relentless. the drops patter against his windows, almost somber and melancholy and angry— as if the world itself is mourning your loss.

he doesn’t blame it. the world should be mourning, now that its one shining light and been burned out.

it’s late afternoon when he clambers from his bed, bounding to the kitchen to make his usual coffee; he used to make two. yours would be simple— coffee, milk and sugar. a complete contrast to his own, filled with syrups and chocolate and anything sweet his hands could find.

he would cringe in disgust as you sipped at it, wondering just how you drank yours such bitterly.

he only makes one cup now.

with the exception of the morning he’d woken up from a dream with you. he’d sauntered off to make your cup, assuming you were in the bathroom, and it was midday that it had dawned on him— you were only a dream.

your cat, mochi, is curled up on the couch, pawing aimlessly at where you usually loved to sit.

it’s the perfect view, you’d like to say as you scratched mochi’s belly, the sky looks beautiful from here.

she knows what day it is too. gojo had caught her waiting by the door as your birthday lingered nearer, waiting for your nonexistent arrival.

‘she’s not coming back, damn it,’ gojo would mutter as she pawed at the door. but the stubborn cat would return back to her post everyday without fail.

he decides to stand out on the balcony, despite the thundering rain. he’s remembering the way you’d hug his waist from behind and pepper kisses into his skin as you two watched the sun disappear, being replaced by the moon.

he grinds his teeth and throws his coffee on the floor, the glass shattering and scattering.

you’re everywhere— and it’s almost as if it’s amplified today. the one day gojo already feels like he shouldn’t be here. not without you by his side.

he curses and closes the balcony door, sweeping the glass so your cat won’t hurt herself. you’d kill him if she ever did.

he shrugs on his coat and leaves his flat after, stopping by a flower shop that you’d love to visit.

each, and every time, you’d pause by the pretty, pink lilies. with gentle fingers, you would caress their stems and sniff their fragrance— that beautiful smile always staining your mouth.

he sees them today. they’re beautiful, dainty. but the muted pink is replaced by a brighter one, full of life and colour and beauty.

as if they were a reincarnation of you. the love of his life given form again.

he picks them up with agile hands like you’d always do, making his way to the cashier.

the lady at the register seems surprised to see him there. “gojo, dear?” she says, thin lips pursing with a smile. “it’s been so long, sweetie.”

he hadn’t really had the courage to step into this shop when you passed last year— this has been his first time in a very long while.

“i’ve been busy, mrs. murphy.” he says the words softly but can hardly find it in himself to muster up a smile.

she seems to understand because she doesn’t pry and lets gojo leave with no more question. he’s grateful.

he places them in his car with the same gentleness you’d have, and reverses out of the parking lot.

your grave is a knife in his chest. a sharp stab that hurts and is recurring and painful because seeing it makes it so much more real than gojo thought it would.

as if all those months of reaching to your side of the bed to be met with cold emptiness hadn’t been because you were gone to use the washroom or to brew late night tea.

you were gone. you are gone. gojo can’t do anything about it.

he cries. he hasn’t cried since your funeral. he drops to your grave— polished with no rust because he’d paid monument care a hefty price to maintain your resting place. it only makes sense— for your grave to be as beautiful as you.

he places the flowers on the grass, tucking it into the mud so the wind doesn’t carry them away.

his tears mix with the rain, still thrumming down on him hard.

the rain continues as he spends hours there. wordless, quiet, staring with you as the sky turns pink and then dark blue.

he leaves before he can cry again and when he comes home, gojo pads off into your library. he hasn’t been there since you left him, but it’s a sudden urge— like he needs to feel you again in anyway he can.

mochi’s already there, scratching at the door, meows woeful.

he twists the door handle, and with a deep, shuddering breath, pushes in.

flowers. vanilla. love. your smell hugs him so tightly and gojo has never felt so warm. your embrace only tightens as he slips further into your library, fingers tracing shelves as mochi purrs after him, her paws scratching the wooden floorboards.

he stops by your window seat, heart breaking a little as he sees the book you’d been reading before you died. a classic— pride and prejudice.

he drops onto the seat and picks it up, mochi following in his wake. the fat, ginger cat curls up in his lap— he knows mochi is pretending. hoping he’ll give her the same feeling you used to.

in truth, no one can. your presence is one no one can replace nor match.

she meows in his lap, mourning. sad.

“I miss her too, mochi,” gojo says and pats the cat on its head.

the two sit there, long into the night, as gojo reads where you’d left off. you’d do this a lot, have mochi and gojo huddle around you as you read aloud to them.

he wishes he could remember how you sound. your voice had been a comforting melody to his ears, something that never failed to ease gojo’s pain away.

but as the days ticked by, his memory had grown to lose it.

had grown to lose nearly everything about you. your eyes, your smile, your singing. everything.

gojo cries again. he can’t help it. no matter how hard he grinds his teeth or how strong he fists his hands. he doesn’t try to stop the flooding, either. he needs this. needs a good cry to remember you and miss you.

only when mochi has gone to sleep in his lap and gojo reaches the final page to your story, closing his eyes, does he feel it.

a soft brush of wind.

the rain had stopped, being replaced by a humid and quiet night. odd for the wind to be out. but he feels it, nonetheless.

feels a breeze brush past his cheek, wisp through his hair and ruffle mochi’s fur.

he feels you. your warm embrace, your soft touch. and everything in gojo’s body calms. his thoughts quieten, his heart thrums steadily, his tears dry.

it’s you— he knows it. he’s never believed in an afterlife or anything alike it, but you could make him believe in everything and anything.

it’s you. your love, your touch, your kiss.

you engulf him with a hug that feels so natural and beautiful and gojo finds that this is peace. this is what he lives for— remnants of you and your love lingering in unexpected places and unforeseen ways.

you were always like that, in a sense. unpredictable and so, so peaceful.

gojo falls asleep soon, to the hum of your love and your whisper on the wind. and he finds it’s the best sleep he’s had in a while.

did I cry 10 times while writing this? yes. I hate angst. but oh how I loooooveee it.

I can never bring myself to right angst because I always end up making the ending a happy one but today I sat down and was like I need a good cry and I threw up this.

i hope it made u sad as much as it made me sad… <3

kisses and lots of love,

har xx

[lixie-phoria]

summer sun forever (stray kids comforting their 9th member!reader)

pairing : platonic stray kids x fem!9th member reader

requested : yes

warnings - mentions of blood, description of poor parenting (lmk if i've missed any!)

genre - angst to comfort

jeongin thought it was normal, the way you would sit alone during group discussions giving your input only when asked directly.

seungmin though it was a habit, the way you would immediately pinch yourself if you made a mistake.

felix thought it was out of good nature that you would constantly appreciate his sunshine-like personality and inability to be mad for longer than a few moments.

han thought it was adorable, the way you would cover your smile while laughing at one of his jokes, trying to hold back any laugh that was louder than a giggle.

hyunjin thought it was just your strive for perfection that you would spend hours more than the other boys trying to perfect your choreographies, scared to mess up.

changbin thought it was a personal preference, the way you'd always dress up in lose clothing, rejecting anything that was too fitting.

lee know thought it was impressive, the way you could recognize any member just from his footsteps approaching your room or the way you always left one ear uncovered when using headphones.

but chan knew. or he thought he did, at least. maybe it was brotherly instincts kicking in, but he knew these habits weren't healthy. far from it. it concerned him, but he didn't know how to approach you either.

his concerns were triggered for the first time when you dropped a glass at the dorms, sharp shards scattering everywhere. you didn't notice him rush to help you as he stopped dead in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you pick up the broken pieces with bare hands. he saw the way your hands were trembling and how a particularly tricky piece sliced right through your skin, blood oozing out. you didn't even flinch, sparing the cut a small glance before you went back to cleaning the floor. you didn't bother trying to disinfect it, opting to only run it under the tap and wiping it away with a few tissues. then you crumpled them up, making sure the members wouldn't notice the red on the paper and went about your day as usual. chan waited, patiently, expecting you to bring up the injury to anyone, but you didn't, so he thought maybe it was just a small cut. maybe it was just a small wound, after all.

you would tell them if you were really hurt, right?

the second time chan notices something wrong is when you hit your upper arm at the edge of the table during dinner. it had hurt, that much he knew from the way you yelped and rubbed the sore spot. he had laughed at your clumsiness with the others as you smiled sheepishly, ducking your head and running away to your room to do who knows what. he thought he saw tears in your eyes, but you didn't mention the bruise again, so they all thought you were okay.

but chan's breaking point was when stays themselves noticed something was wrong. he was scrolling through instagram when a particular reel caught his attention. it was of their dance performance, and the fan had zoomed into your figure - specifically your upper arm - and the large reddish blue spot was so strikingly evident it took him three rewatches to make sure it was not an edit. how had any of them missed it? then another reel came up, and it was you wincing slightly as lee know jokingly shook your hand, the same one you had cut while cleaning the glass. and it's like the pieces immediately fall into place.

chan doesn't think twice. before he knows it he's out of his room and walking (more like storming) towards yours, and he doesn't bother knocking. but even then, you had been expecting him, because you're staring at the door with a small smile on your face.

"i heard you coming. is everything ok?"

it's the first time your keen observation skills concern him, but he doesn't answer, instead striding towards you and lifting your arm despite your complaints. when his eyes zero-in on the bruise that you had expertly been concealing, he sees red. he isn't sure why he's angry. it's not your fault. but he is mad, and he couldn't control it.

of course you could see it on his face, and it's like you go into auto pilot mode, snatching your arm back and immediately apologizing, making excuses that fly straight out of his ears. he tries to hold back, he really does, but he can't. and before he can stop, the damage is done.

"don't bother. you clearly don't trust us enough anymore."

in hindsight, that was probably the worst thing chan could have said to you. blaming you would only worsen things, but he's so confused and disappointed in himself. he didn't know what kept you on the edge so often, and it hurt him that you wouldn't open up.

and thus the apparent cold war began.

you weren't mad. no. far from that. you were terrified. you had disappointed chan, the one person who made you feel safe always. the one person you knew you could go to with anything. but you chose not to, and now maybe you never will be able to. and it was like you were a teenager again, crying yourself to sleep every night, cautious of every word you spoke, and jumping at the slightest raised voice.

chan wasn't mad either. he was confused. he was hurt, a little bit. and he regretted the words he had carelessly spat out. it clearly hadn't been the right approach and now it hurt him to see the way you would tense whenever he stepped into the room, not making eye-contact and apologizing profusely to everybody for the smallest mistakes.

he thought giving you space was the best option for now. but in hindsight, that was a terrible decision too. he didn't realize how angry he was coming off as. he didn't know that not just you but all the members thought he was giving you the silent treatment. and for you, that hit too close to home. literally.

"ynnie, do you want some more soup?"

felix is met with a timid yes as he happily pours you another serving. but even his bubbly smile couldn't diffuse the obvious tension in the atmosphere. the other 7 didn't know the details of what had happened. chan knew you would want to tell them yourself if you told them at all, but they knew it was bad. because now you barely smiled and chan always seemed tense.

"and salt?"

again, you only nod, reaching towards the jar he was offering, when it happens. all of a sudden. jeongin's arm brushes yours, and as his elbow pushes into your bruise, you yelp, the lid falling to the floor with a loud shattering sound.

the silence that follows immediately after is loud, and everyone notices the way you go completely still. unnaturally still, as though waiting for someone to yell at you. lee know recovers first, and as he bends down to pick up the fallen object, you flinch, and their hearts collectively shatter.

what was the matter with you lately?

before they know it, you're gulping the steaming hot soup down, hurriedly apologizing and making a bee line for your room. but this time, everyone can see the tears brimming your waterline.

nobody gets up, but nobody eats anymore either. the silence only intensifies until chan groans, burring his face in his hands.

"hey lix, you mind checking up on her? i don't think she's doing very well."

the blonde boy doesn't need to be told twice. he's making his way towards your room and when he enters, the floor slides from beneath him. you're curled up in your bed, trying to muffle your sobs that wrack through your body.

when you see him come in, your first instinct is to hide. to not show. but it's too late, because he's rushing towards you, embracing you in the warmest hug. its comforting, in a way you have never felt before, and that only spirals your break down further.

felix doesn't know what to do or say. he doesn't know what happened. he doesn't know what could make you feel better, but it's so incredibly heart breaking the way you curl up into yourself as though trying to reject any help that it brings tears into his own eyes.

it isn't long before the others come following, and when chan sees you it's like a part of him dies. you look so small, so hurt, so breakable. and deep down, he knows this could have been avoided if he'd thought twice before lashing out at you.

"yn."

his voice is soft, and when you notice him you're scrambling out of felix's grasp, and he almost thinks you're trying to get way from him. but then you're throwing yourself into his arms with apologies tumbling out along with your sobs. he tries to calm you down, running a hand through your hair, but you're inconsolable. they have never seen you cry like this before.

"calm down, angel. please. talk to me."

it's the first time chan has spoken to you in more than a week, and you hadn't realized how much you had missed it. how much his silence had been affecting you.

"please don't be mad at me." you whimper as chan guides you sit on your bed, the other 7 hovering around unsure of what to do but concern reflecting in each of their eyes.

"mad? i'm not mad, ynnie. i'm concerned."

his words come as a shock.

he's concerned?

"but i'm crying."

"that's exactly why i'm concerned."

"oh."

you've never heard these words before. you never thought you would. growing up, showing emotions was a big no. crying was almost a taboo. showing emotions was for the weak, as your parents would say. they didn't wish to raise a weak daughter. nobody ever showed you concern. it was either anger or silence.

you've run out of tears, but dry sobs still shake your body every few seconds as chan holds you closer, motioning for the rest to sit down.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head. no. you were bad at talking about your feelings. they didn't have to know. it's not that important.

"you have to open up at some point, yn."

"i don't want to burden you guys."

"burden us?"

even seungmin, who usually stays expressionless during conflicts, seems appalled.

"yn, your emotions are not a burden."

"that's not what mum used to say."

you didn't mean to say it out loud, but it slips from your mouth and they all seem to have heard it.

chan's grip on you tightens. none of them knew much about your family. you didn't like talking about it. now it was slowly coming to them exactly why this preference could be.

"you can trust us, you know? we want to be there for you."

"i do trust you."

"then why won't you tell us what's wrong."

"don't want to annoy you any further."

the guilt gnaws at chan as felix pulls you away from his grasp, snuggling you into his side.

"yn, i wasn't mad. i was trying to give you space."

"i thought you were ignoring me." and in a smaller voice you reluctantly add "like my parents used to. everytime they were mad."

even han is somewhat misty eyed as felix runs calming circles against your upper arm.

"we would never give you the silent treatment."

"yeah! we love you way too much for that."

"is that why you're so closed off?"

"changbin! you can't just ask her that."

you giggle tiredly, earning a small smile from chan.

"it's alright. i'm glad you asked binnie. i think i'm ready to tell you guys."

they're all attentively waiting, and you shift uncomfortably. you never thought you would have this conversation.

"growing up, my parents didn't encourage me to express myself very much. i wasn't allowed to make mistakes, and if i did, they would give me the silent treatment for days on end. i hated it."

your voice is so small and fragile it breaks their hearts a little more.

"i've gone weeks trying to get my mother to speak to me normally. to act like she cared. but she'd always be so cold, insistent on punishing me for every little thing."

"and-" your voice broke, making hyunjin join felix in smothering you with cuddles.

"take your time, yn."

you hum, closing your eyes to stop the fresh wave of tears.

"and when chan stopped talking to me, i felt terrible. i thought i disappointed him too."

there was no more place, but chan joins the tangle of you, felix, and hyunjin as well, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

"i'm so sorry i made you feel that way ynnie. i had no idea."

"it's not your fault," you admit, leaning into his chest.

"are we good now?"

"i hope so."

chan lets out that breathy laugh of his which you've grown to love over the years.

"don't ever hide your feelings from us, ynnie. you're a part of us. we don't want to see you hurting."

felix bops your nose as you smile, and it's all so corny and sweet, but it's also exactly what you need.

"now can we please have a movie night?"

"yah! jeongin. give her some time."

"no no, i'd actually love that. please?"

they're all ready to do whatever you want. it warms your heart and you almost cry again. nobody ever did this for you. you learned to think you didn't deserve it.

but here these 8 boys were, scrambling around trying to a build you a pillow fort and searching the shelves for snacks, yelling at each other across the house.

and as you're sitting there, you think that this could be your favorite site. they could be your favorite people. this could be your favorite memory. this feeling of being at home could be your favorite forever.

©lixie-phoria, 2023 taglist : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[dollessence]

hii! would you write smut for john q/simon from dinner in america? thanks🫶

A Track Called Desire

sub!john q x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v, no protection, cumming inside, slight choking, sub john q!!, slapping, permission to cum, reader has a vagina.

You first met Simon, the lead singer of the band Psyops, at a show in the city months ago. You'd been standing in the back, nodding to the reckless riffs and energy-poring off the stage. He was magnetic, a sensual tension pulling you toward the man in a ski mask and ripped jeans. His scowl could cut glass. You never thought you would see him again, let alone in your town.

Yet here he is, slouched behind the counter at Vinyl Frontier, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine with the same signature scowl and a cigarette dangling dangerously from the corner of his mouth. You're not even sure why you're here — boredom, maybe? — but the sight of him standing there made your pulse race in a way you've never felt before.

You browse the punk section, dragging your fingers along the worn-out spines of the albums you've seen a hundred times. You can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head, sharp and assessing, as you pull out a Psyops record you hear a low voice cutting through the low hum of the store's speakers behind you.

"Shitty record you got there"

You glance up at the rugged man, arching an eyebrow, "Yeah? heard the lead singer is a real pain in the ass." still shuffling through the records.

"You don't know half of it," he gives you a slight smirk while tapping his cigarette ash onto the dirty floor. "The name's Simon, if you have any questions, give me a holler."

It's a strange type of banter, easy but charged, you're not sure if he's flirting or just being an asshole — maybe both. Either way, something about it makes your knees buckle. Over the next few weeks, you'll find excuses to stop by the store, somehow, Simon is always there. He starts leaving you snarky album recommendations on sticky notes — "Try this if you hate yourself." "Not as good as you think." you always fire back with snarky responses, and soon enough, this banter becomes your guys's thing.

One night after closing, he finds you leaning against the brick wall outside cupping the flame from your lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth. "You always hang around like this?" He asks, Putting his arm against the wall and tilting his head with a smirk. He smells like smoke and cheap cologne, god you love it.

You look up at him, "Maybe I like your company." Your confidence makes him swallow thickly, a desperate look apparent on his face. "I'll see you around." You walk backward, giving him a soft wink before turning around and walking away. The tension between you two is palpable, stretching between you two like a live wire, but you won't make a move. At least not yet.

A few weeks later, you tag along with Simon to a dingy club for one of his gigs on the outskirts of town, watching him flail around with the same reckless energy that attracted your attention to him in the first place. fuck, you never knew how much you needed him until now.

After the show, he was restless and edgy, tension burning under his skin as you drove back, street lights fading into the background."You didn't have to come, Y'know?" he says, tapping his fingers against the window, his gaze fixated on the road ahead. "I know, but I wanted to."

He scoffs, but there's no bite to it. The car ride is quiet, the tension hanging thick inside the car, and as you pull up outside his place, he doesn't get out right away. Instead, he looks towards you, his gaze heavy.

"You wanna come in?"

The air was heavy with silence for a couple seconds, you knew exactly what he was asking. "Of course," you reply with a soft smile.

Inside, his room was a mess — records scattered everywhere, empty alcohol bottles scattered on his table. He throws his jacket onto the couch as he watches you from across the room, eyes dark with something you now recognize as hunger.

You walk up to him, causing him to retreat toward his wall full of posters, "You always let strangers into your place, or am I just special?" You mutter, dark eyes locked into his.

His breath shudders, his reaction causing you to laugh to yourself, "What happened to the confident man I saw earlier, huh?" You move his face down, angling it towards yours, his hot breath on your face, desperation is a good look on him.

"What's your deal?" he asked, trying to keep his cool, but the way your fingers caressed the side of his face made his breath hitch. "My deal?" You roll your eyes, giving him a soft smirk "I don't think you want to know." you say jokingly.

Your fingers intertwined with the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to you. "Try me," he says, looking down at you with glossy, pleading eyes.

Your eyes darkened as they met his, he could feel his erection straining in his pants. And before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours, his kiss rough and desperate, he melted into the kiss as your fingers tangled into his hair, slightly tugging, getting a soft moan out of him.

You push him onto the couch, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. His hands go instinctively onto your waist, but you slap them off, placing them onto the cushions. "You're always acting like you're in control," you say, tracing down his torso with your hand, stopping above his belt. "But I don't think you are, not really," you whisper into his ear as you snake your hand over his straining erection, slightly palming it.

He lets out a soft whimper, hands twitching at his sides, not knowing what to do with them. "Maybe you're right." He muttered under his breath.

Your hands sneak under his shirt, nails dragging down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake, he gasped, hips bucking forward in search of friction. "Then you're going to let me take care of you, okay?" you say as you press soft kisses against his neck, deliberately slow, teasing. "And you're going to do exactly as I say, like a good boy." His cock twitched under you from your praise.

"Take off your shirt for me." You order. He hastily takes off his shirt. You place soft kisses down his torso, leaving soft hickeys down his chest.

"Good boy," you cooed, and the way his body reacted — shivering beneath you, cock twitching — made you realize how much he needed this.

You unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down to his ankles. You get on your knees and look up at him, locking in his dark, watery eyes. Still looking at him, you place soft kisses over his clothed erection.

"F-fuck!" he whimpered out, bucking his hips. You pull away, and the look he gives you makes your stomach flip. "Tell me what you want." you asked, "You," he bashfully whispered, "A little louder for me," you said with a cocky tone. "You, I need you so bad it fucking hurts." You felt your core tighten as he looked at you with glossy, pleading eyes.

"Take your underwear off for me, okay?" Simon took them off at the speed of light, flicking them somewhere behind him. You grab the base of his cock and start stoking him painfully slow, gaining loud whines and whimpers from him. "F-fuck, stop teasing, will ya?" he says as bucking his hips into your hands. You reach up and slap him, "Did I say you could move? Huh?" you say as you jerk him off at a frenzied pace. His back arched off the couch, choked up, holding back his moans as his hips began to shudder, you pull away right before he could cum.

He lets out a loud, unfiltered groan and a string of curses, you hastily take off your pants and panties before straddling him, "You're going to help me get off, ok? Be a good boy for me." He quickly nods as you line up his tip with your hole, slowly sliding him into your wet gummy walls. At first, it was painful as you sunk into his length, but as a couple seconds passed, the pain quickly turned into pleasure. Simon lets out a loud groan "Shut up," you say, giving him a slap in the face as you start to bounce up and down on his cock. Simon looks pathetic beneath you, tears flowing down his cheeks, face red with desperation, he places his hands on your hips in an attempt to pull you down harder on his hard length. You wrap your fingers in his dark greasy hair and tug on it as his cock hits your g-spot, "Fuck Simon, right there." you exclaim, throwing your head back as you ride the tall, muscular, writhing man beneath you. Simon lets out a loud, unfiltered moan from the tugging sensation, you sneak one hand out of his hair to slap him with and then place it over his neck, applying little pressure.

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum soon." he whimpers out as he bucks his hips into your wet cunt, you grab his hand and place it on your clit, "Not until I get off, okay," you say sweetly, rocking your hips hastily as you feel his cock twitch inside you. As his cock hits that one sensitive spot deep in your cunt your head rocks back in ecstasy as he rubs circles onto your clit, "Simon, I'm going to cum." You moan, his pace increasing slightly, "Do you want to cum with me?" you ask sweetly "Please.. I've been a really good boy, can I please cum?" he pleads, begging for release. "Go ahead, baby, cum with me," you say as you replace his hands with yours and move his to your tits, soon enough you both reach your climax, feeling his warm cum coat your gummy walls as his cock twitches, he lets out a loud moan as he grabs your hips and fucks you down onto him. His actions gain a loud whine from you, "Simon!" you exclaim, his action being the last thing you need to unravel under him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you both come down from each other's high, cum leaking around his soft cock still placed inside your cunt.

"Are you okay?" you ask, catching your breath, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to slap you, it was in the heat of the moment," you tell him embarrassed. Simon moves your sweat-slicked hair off of your forehead, "Are you fuckin' joking? That was the best sex I've ever fuckin' had." he gives you a small smirk as he pulls you into his chest.

He places your hair behind your ear and leans in to whisper, "Trust me, you don't know how long I've been dreaming about this."

Notes: This is my first time writing smut, so I sincerely apologize if this was boring or not good! I hope you enjoyed it.

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VIII

Chapters: 7 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Enjoy! Happy holidays! x | Cover PSD by queend3lrey on deviantart.

ACT VII.

I sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath me, a warm cup of chamomile tea cradled in my hands. The steam swirled lazily upward, its warmth brushing against my face, but it did little to deafen the icy unease settled deep in my chest. The living room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, and the dim light of the lamp cast long shadows on the walls.

I tried to focus on the comfort of the moment—the familiar scent of tea, the way the soft blanket draped over my shoulders—but my thoughts were too loud. They dragged me back to earlier in the day, to the moment everything shifted.

I had come home tired, the weight of the day pressing heavily on my shoulders. Everything that had happened in the last two days has mentally drained me. First it was Tina's death, then Jungkook's captiveness by the police. My mind was a mess and I could barely function, let alone focus on my work daily tasks. All I wanted was to sink into my comfy bed with Hades by my side, maybe order takeout, and forget the world existed for a while.

But the moment I opened the door, my breath caught in my throat.

My apartment was wrecked.

Drawers had been yanked out and emptied onto the floor. Books and papers were strewn everywhere, cushions slashed open, their stuffing spilling out like entrails. Even my little plant by the window lay tipped over, its soil scattered across the hardwood floor.

My heart raced as I stepped inside, each careful footfall crunching against the debris of my once-safe haven. The smell of something sharp and chemical lingered in the air, making me feel nauseous.

And then it hit me. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t a burglary.

I had barely processed the thought when a new fear gripped me. “Hades?” My voice trembled as I called out. “Hades, where are you?”

The silence was deafening.

Frantically, I searched the apartment, stepping over shattered glass and overturned furniture. “Hades!” I shouted, my voice rising in panic. My chest tightened as I realized he wasn’t there. The mess suddenly felt suffocating, the walls closing in on me. I had watched enough scary movies to know that even the innocent animals were taken or worse, killed. I felt my blood bumping in my ears as my breath hitched. I squeezed my bag, looking around as if the world around me was squeezing. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I was on the verge of collapse when a knock at the door startled me.

I swung it open to find my neighbor, Mrs.Cordelia, the kind woman who lived two doors down, holding Hades in her arms. Relief washed over me like a wave as I saw his familiar face, his tail wagging furiously.

“I found him wandering in the hallway,” she said gently, handing him over. “He looked scared, poor thing. Are you alright? Your place…" her green eyes shifted over the mess behind me, her face immediately changed into one of concern, "Oh my, dear! It looks like someone broke in!” She exclaimed, then glanced at me. "Do you want to call the police?"

Clutching Hades to my chest, I began sobbing quietly. His small wet nose brushed over my cheek and warm licks licked off the tears that streamed down my face. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Thank you so much.”  My voice was shaking as I held him. He was the most important to me and I'd be lost if something happened to Hades. I swallowed shakily, finally processing Mrs.Cordelia's question.  "N-no need, ma'am. Uh, I will deal with the mess here." Partly, I was afraid of calling the police, they wouldn't do much and from what I could see, the bulglar did not left any tracks behind them. It'd be a lost cause.

She hesitated, her concern evident. “If you need help, or if you want me to stay for a bit, just let me know. You shouldn’t be alone after something like this.”

I managed a small, grateful smile. “I’ll be okay. Really, thank you again.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, I sank to the floor, holding Hades tightly. The familiar weight of him on my lap grounded me, but my mind was racing. Whoever had broken in was searching for something, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what.

Tina’s journal.

My eyes flicked to my bag whom I had just dropped on the ground seconds ago, this was where I had hidden it and it was still untouched thankfully. They hadn’t found it—yet. But I knew this was far from over. I realized the danger I was in, yet my pride refused to give up and seek help from the police.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. My apartment wasn’t safe anymore, and Hades wasn’t safe either. This wasn’t just a robbery—it was a message.

And I needed to figure out what came next.

The faint scent of lavender from the fabric softened the tension thrumming through my body, but my mind was still racing. Hades lay at my feet, his head resting on his paws as if he could sense I needed his calming presence.

The muffled sound of running water stopped, and a few moments later, Rya emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair tied up in a towel and an oversized hoodie falling just above her knees. She carried a casual ease, but I could see the worry etched in her features as she walked over and plopped down onto the couch beside me.

“You okay?” she asked, folding her legs underneath her and leaning her head against the couch’s backrest. “I mean, as okay as you can be after… everything?”

I exhaled slowly, trying to piece together an answer that didn’t feel like a lie. “I don’t know. It’s still sinking in, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I can’t believe someone actually broke in. You must have been terrified.”

“Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “The apartment was a complete mess. And Hades—when I couldn’t find him, I thought…” I swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

Rya reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my knee. “But he’s safe now, and so are you. That’s what matters.”

I gave her a small nod, though the tightness in my chest remained. “Thank you, Rya. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t picked up my call.”

Her lips quirked into a small, empathetic smile. “Of course, Y/N. What are friends for? You can stay here as long as you need.”

For the first time that night, I let out a small laugh, though it came out more like a sigh. “You sure you’re not going to regret having me and a very anxious dog invade your space?”

She grinned. “Are you kidding? Hades is the least of my worries. He’s adorable. You, on the other hand, might be a little high-maintenance.”

I rolled my eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I promise not to hog the couch or eat all your snacks.”

“Good, because I don’t share my ice cream,” she teased, then her tone grew serious. “But really, Y/N, do you have any idea who could’ve done this? Why someone would target you?”

I hesitated, my hands tightening around the edge of the blanket. “I… I think it’s because of the journal.”

Rya’s eyebrows shot up. “Tina’s journal? You think this has something to do with that?”

I nodded, my stomach twisting as I thought about it. “It has to be. Whoever broke in was looking for something specific. They didn’t even take my laptop or jewelry. They tore through the place like they were searching for something hidden.”

Her expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/N, if someone’s after that journal, it’s not safe for you to keep it. You need to tell someone—maybe the police or…”

“Or who, Rya?” I interjected, my voice rising. “It’s not like I can waltz into the station and hand it over without explaining where I got it. And that’ll lead to questions I don’t have answers to.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Okay, fair point. But you can’t just sit on this thing like it’s some kind of secret treasure. Whoever broke in isn’t going to stop because they didn’t find it the first time.”

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I know.”

Silence stretched between us, the weight of the situation pressing down like a heavy fog. Hades let out a small whine, breaking the tension as he nudged my leg with his nose.

Rya watched him for a moment, her expression softening. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

Her words carried a warmth that made my throat tighten. “Thanks, Rya. I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but… I really appreciate you.”

She waved me off with a smile. “Don’t get all mushy on me now. I’d do the same thing for Hades.”

I laughed, the sound lighter this time, and for a moment, the weight of the world didn’t feel so suffocating.

But as the night deepened and Rya retreated to her bedroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Whoever had broken into my apartment wasn’t going to give up easily. And I needed to figure out what Tina’s journal was hiding—before it was too late.

-

The next morning came far too soon. My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep, and my body ached from tossing and turning all night. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of my ransacked apartment replayed in vivid detail. The thought of someone invading my space left a lingering sense of unease that refused to dissipate.

Rya, ever the early riser, had already made us coffee by the time I emerged from the spare bedroom. She offered me a tired smile, her damp hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

“You look like you didn’t sleep a wink,” she said, handing me a mug.

“Because I didn’t,” I muttered, taking a sip and savoring the bitter warmth. “I kept thinking about what happened. And then I started worrying about it happening to you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Please. I’m not the one carrying a target on my back right now. If they want to mess with me, they’ll regret it.” Her words were light, but I caught the edge of concern in her tone.

We left her apartment together, stepping into the chilly morning air. The ride to work was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Every shadow, every person walking by, felt like a threat. By the time we arrived at the office, my nerves were stretched thin.

Hoseok greeted us with his usual sunny smile, but his expression quickly shifted to concern as he noticed my face.

“Whoa, what happened?” he asked, standing from his desk.

Rya stepped in, her voice quiet. “Someone broke into Y/N’s apartment last night. She stayed with me.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed, and he glanced at me. “Are you okay? Did they take anything?”

I shook my head, sighing. “They weren’t there to steal. It was more like they were searching for something. They trashed the place, but nothing’s missing.”

His frown deepened. “You think it’s connected to Tina’s journal?” I frowned and turned around toward Rya. "You told him?!" Her face changed into one of shock and then regret, "Sorry, Y/N, I accidentally blurted it out to him last night on the phone." "You know that the more people know about this, the more in danger you all become." I snapped but regretted it, Rya was a good person with a kind heart, but I definitely was scared for Hoseok and her now.

Before we could say more, a voice chimed in from behind us.

“Someone broke in your apartment last night?”

I turned to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of his desk, his dark eyes sharp with something I couldn't recognize. Was it concern?Annoyance? I hadn’t even noticed him nearby.

“None of your business." I muttered, turning around to look at Hoseok who had his eyebrows raised. I heard footsteps behind me until I felt warmth all over my entire back. He was standing there, wasn't he? "This was the same night where I drove you back to your place, wasn't it?" he muttered in a flat tone. My heart raced, I could catch a scent off his cologne.  "Stop asking me questions, this does not concern you." "The hell it fucking does." his voice became raspy and deep. Rya kept glancing at me and Yoongi who stood behind me. I didn't really want to turn around. Deep annoyed sigh escaped my lips as I turned around to face him finally. "No, it does not. Just. . . just be focused on getting our Boss out of jail, please?" He kept staring at me and didn't even reply to my plead. Yoongi's face remained blank, hands crossed against his chest. I could see his jaw locking tightly.  "How about you do not tell me what to fucking do? I told you to be careful, didn't I? You will be staying at my place from now on. I can keep an eye on you and on that damn journal you got yourself involved with." "Yoongi," I spoke lowly, "I am NOT staying with you." He took a step forward, towered over me, his face was close to mine and I felt my cheeks heaten.  "Oh yes you are. Staying with Rya puts her in danger too. I, on the other hand, know how to protect myself and protect you from this bullshit you got into. So don't even dare to fight with me right now." I exhaled sharply through my nose but then I remembered I was at the office, Hoseok and Rya were watching us with wide eyes, some people passing by also kept staring at us. My eyes closed for a moment as I tried to calm the rage bubbling deep inside of me, before I replied. "Fine." I spoke lowly, only to get him off my back. "I will stay with you. Happy?" I gritted my teeth and turned to glance at Hoseok and Rya. "Come on, let's grab coffee at the cafeteria." "S-sure," both of them grabbed my hands and dragged me down the hall as Yoongi stood there, staring at us until we disappeared around the corner. "Y/N, what the hell was that?" Rya asked hushedly. "What do you mean?" "There is a LOT sexual tension between you two." Hoseok added in with a smug smirk on his face. I scowled at him. "The fuck you are on about. He is an ass and he thinks that after he is a rich son of a conglomerate he gets to treat people like properties. I despise him." "Yet you agreed to stay with him?" Rya muttered, teasing me. "I only did that to get him off my back. He would be forgetting about it by the end of the day." I could hear them both giggle as we walked into the cafeteria. Did they not believe me? Gosh, those two annoyed the hell out of me sometimes.

-

The meeting room was filled with tension, the air thick with unspoken words. I sat at the long conference table, my hands resting on the surface, fingers drumming nervously against the polished wood. To my right was Rya, who seemed deep in thought, her eyes flickering between the others in the room. Across from me sat Hoseok, his usual carefree demeanor nowhere to be found, replaced by a cool, determined expression.

And then there was Gina—her eyes hard, and posture stiff. She was the one who had invited Hoseok to that masquerade ball, only to be turned down cold. I could almost feel her resentment lingering in the air, even though the others were too polite to address it directly.

The room fell silent as Yoongi walked into the conference room, his usual calm but imposing presence commanding attention. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“As you all know, Jungkook’s departure leaves us with a gap in leadership,” Yoongi began, his voice steady but with an edge of authority. “Until he returns, I will be taking over the company on a temporary basis. But more importantly, we need to address the immediate future of the team."

My heart skipped a beat. The room was tense, everyone waiting for what would come next.

Yoongi’s gaze shifted to Hoseok. “Hoseok," he said, his tone not giving anything away, "you will be stepping up as the new direct manager for the team.”

A gasp escaped Gina's lips, her eyes wide in shock. Rya shifted slightly, her gaze darting between Yoongi and Hoseok. I held my breath. Hoseok didn’t flinch, though. He nodded, his usual warmth replaced by a seriousness I wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“I understand,” Hoseok replied, his voice steady, though there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind—this wasn’t just about Tina’s death, it was about filling a role that many had doubted he could handle. The weight of responsibility suddenly seemed to settle over him, but there was no doubt he would rise to the challenge. Still, I knew he didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Gina crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "So, Hoseok, you’ll just… step into Tina’s shoes?" she asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered to her, his expression unreadable. "It's not a choice, Gina," he said quietly, "it's what's needed. And no need for worry, I have discussed this with Jungkook already."

There was a long pause. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence almost unbearable. I wanted to speak, to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. I knew what this meant for all of us—for Hoseok especially—but the uncertainty of the future weighed heavy on my chest.

“I’ll take it on,” Hoseok said after a moment, standing from his chair. His voice was firm now, as if the decision had been made in his heart, and he was ready to carry the burden.

I looked at him, trying to read his expression, but he was already focused on the task at hand. I couldn’t help but admire his resolve, even though I knew this would be a difficult road ahead. As the room buzzed with quiet murmurs and Yoongi began laying out the next steps, my thoughts drifted.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen next. The meeting continued with a few new clients joining in, Yoongi was oddly prepared and I couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook had given him all the information. My mind drifted to my Boss again. I could imagine him sitting in his cell, awaiting for a miracle to happen. My heart raced. There has to be something that proves his innocence. Anything. . .

Yoongi's voice brought me back to reality.

"You gonna keep sitting there, Y/N?" he muttered, his eyes boring into mine. I blinked a few times only to realize that the room was now empty. Yoongi and I were the only ones left. Fuck. Soft sigh escaped my lips as I rose up and collected my papers without paying much mind to him. 

"Hey, talk to me." I heard his footsteps approaching and I froze. Slowly turning around, our eyes met. "You good?"

"Peachy. Move." I muttered, trying to pass by him, yet a grip on my arm stopped me. I swallowed thickly as I felt his fingers curl around my elbow. 

"Can you tell me what the fuck is going on? Is it because I asked you to stay with me?" .  "Why does everything have to be about you, Yoongi? The situation itself is disasterous," I shot at him, pulling my hand away. "I don't trust you, and I won't be staying with you. I don't feel comfortable being around you, every second I look at your face I want to look away and disappear," I blurted out, stepping toward him. In my rage, I didn't care that we were close. 

"You are too dumb to even realize the situation," he spoke out.

"Fuck off." I spoke out, pushing him and walking out of the office. I was blushing and fuming at the same time. That idiot. He thought he was the Boss now and everyone would bow at his fucking feet. I reached my desk and slammed the papers I held on it before I sat down and buried my face in my hands, clearly frustrated.

-

The workday finally came to a close, the tension still lingering in the air. I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding my breath until I stepped out of the meeting room, the weight of the new responsibilities hanging over Hoseok, and over all of us, like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate. I was exhausted, but the day wasn’t over yet.

Rya and I walked back to her place in silence, the streets unusually quiet as we made our way through the city. The only sounds were our footsteps and the occasional hum of passing cars. I could feel the heaviness of what was to come—Tina’s funeral was tomorrow and the cruel reality of her death still hard to grasp.

Rya had been distant, her mind clearly elsewhere, but when we reached her apartment, she greeted me with the same quiet, welcoming smile she always had. I let myself in, and immediately, Hades came bounding toward me, his large, fluffy form jumping up to greet me. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned down to scratch behind his ears, the simple act of petting him somehow grounding me in the chaos.

“We’ll get through tomorrow,” Rya said, her voice soft as she shut the door behind us. "It’s hard, I know. But it’s over now."

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I was agreeing with her or just trying to convince myself. Tina had been a complicated figure in my life, a bully and a tormentor, but now—now she was gone. And that meant something. What exactly? I wasn’t sure.

The conversation died as Rya and I settled into the couch. Rya made tea, and I pulled out Tina's worn journal I kept hidden in my bag. Tina's death was still too fresh, and I wasn’t sure how to process it yet.

Before I could open the journal, there was a knock at the door. It was gentle, but I could tell it was someone who had a reason to be there. I stood up slowly, my gaze flicking to Rya. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. I slowly opened the door and my eyes met with Hoseok's.

“Thought you two could use some company,” he said, standing in the doorway with a hesitant smile. He was in his usual casual wear—jeans and a hoodie—though there was a solemnity in his eyes that wasn’t usually there. Hades barked, running over to him, and Hoseok knelt down to pet him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Come on in,” Rya said, stepping aside. “You’re always welcome here.”

Hoseok nodded and stepped inside, taking a seat next to me on the couch. He seemed out of place, as if his mind was miles away, but his presence was comforting. The weight of the day seemed to lift a little with him there, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else.

We didn’t talk about the company or the changes Hoseok would face. Instead, we hung out like we always did. Rya made more tea, and we spent the next hour just talking—about life, about the things that made us laugh, about whatever came to mind. I caught myself smiling more than I had all day, my body relaxing as the warmth of the room filled me.

But then something caught Rya’s attention. She had been glancing out the window, her expression suddenly hardening as she stared into the night. I followed her gaze, and my heart skipped a beat.

Three men in black suits were standing just outside the building, pacing slowly around the entrance. They looked like they were waiting for something—or someone. I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something unnerving about their presence, their movements almost deliberate.

“What is it?” I asked quietly, already feeling the tension rising in my chest.

Rya didn’t answer immediately. She just kept watching them. Then, in a quiet voice, she muttered, “They don’t look good.”

I stood up, moving toward the window with her. The men weren’t doing anything threatening, but their presence felt off—like they were watching, waiting for something. The hair on the back of my neck stood on. I kept staring until one of the men glanced up and our eyes met. I took a few steps back. They looked like the damn mafia because I noticed that each one of them had tattoo on the back of their necks. "Should we call the police?" Hoseok asked. "I believe they are here to guard more than harm us." I muttered but I was unsure.  "I am gonna go and ask them who sent them." Hoseok stood up and before me and Rya could protest, he was out of the room. We turned around and waited until we saw Hoseok approach the three men. They stood taller than him which was quite intimidating from up here. Hoseok's face changed into pure surprise as they conversed back with him. Five minutes passed and Hoseok finally headed back into the building. Me and Rya looked at each other, then at Hoseok who just walked in. "What happened. Who were those people?" I asked, approaching him slowly.  "Yoongi sent them. They are here to guard."  "What?" I muttered and turned around to stare back at their figures. Yoongi sent them? So he was indeed involved in the mafia. Now that I think about it, after our little bicker at the meeting room I didn't hear much from him nor he approached me after that. So this was his plan? To send his gorillas to watch over us? Rya and Hoseok stared at me as I was clearly deep lost in thoughts. "I guess Yoongi does have a heart after all," Hoseok commented before flopping back on the couch as Hades jumped in his lap. I turned around to give him a glance, then back at Rya who shrugged her shoulders and joined Hoseok.  -

The rain was unrelenting, a steady rhythm against my umbrella that matched the dull ache in my chest. Everything felt muted, from the gray sky to the whispers of the wind through the trees. The priest’s voice carried over the gathering, solemn and heavy with meaning, but I couldn’t focus on the words. My mind wandered, my gaze fixed on the dark casket lowered into the ground. Tina’s family stood closest, their grief raw and exposed, a mirror to the ache none of us dared to show so openly.

I felt numb. Standing there, surrounded by my colleagues, I couldn't shake the surreal feeling that none of this was real. Tina was gone. She was really gone. The thought made my stomach churn, and my grip on the umbrella tightened. My mind drifted to the last time I’d seen her, how she tried to humiliate me in front of all those people, feeling so prideful of herself... Now, those moments were nothing but memories, fading with each passing second. I did not hold a grudge against her however, I had forgiven her already and was ready to move on with my next step in life. But the mere thought that death could take anyone, anytime made me question if I was actually living my life to the fullest.

The rain picked up, and a gust of wind threatened to flip my umbrella. I didn’t care. My thoughts were a storm of their own, louder than the priest’s speech, louder than the sobs around me. Why did it have to be her? Why did life have to be so cruel?

A presence nearby pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. I felt it before I saw it—warm, steady, and familiar in a way that startled me. Turning my head slightly, my eyes fell on him. Yoongi.

He stood a step behind me, an umbrella of his own shielding him from the rain, his dark suit blending into the dreary backdrop. His expression was unreadable, but when our eyes met, he spared me the briefest glance. It wasn’t much—just a flicker of acknowledgment—but it felt like an anchor, grounding me when I was moments away from being swept away by my thoughts.

For a moment, I wanted to say something, but the words tangled in my throat. Instead, I turned back toward the priest, the weight of Yoongi’s presence beside me somehow comforting. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

The funeral ended with the soft murmurs of condolences and the muffled shuffle of footsteps on wet ground. People began to disperse, their umbrellas bobbing away in the gray mist. I stood still for a moment, watching Tina’s family linger by the grave, their grief a tangible weight that pressed on everyone who passed. I felt a pang of guilt as I turned away—I couldn’t bear to stay any longer.

Hoseok and Rya were waiting for me by the cemetery gates, their faces pale and drawn.

“Are you coming with us now?” Rya asked softly, her voice hoarse from crying. She gave me a weak, hopeful smile, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

I hesitated. “I think I should stop by my apartment first,” I said, trying to sound steadier than I felt. “Grab some things before I come over. I won’t be long.”

Hoseok looked concerned, his brows knitting together. “Are you sure you want to go alone? We can come with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

They exchanged a glance but didn’t push further. “Alright,” Rya said gently. “Just... don’t take too long. We’ll wait for you.”

I nodded, thanking them before turning toward the parking lot. The rain had eased slightly, but the cold still clung to the air, making every step feel heavier. As I neared one of the parked cabs, I heard footsteps behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Yoongi approaching, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his expression calm but unreadable.

“Yoongi?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. “What are you doing?”

He stopped a few steps away, tilting his head slightly as if the answer was obvious. “You’re heading to your apartment, right?” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

I blinked at him. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied simply. “But I want to. And I’ll go in with you. It’s late, and you shouldn’t be there alone.”

There was something about his tone—firm yet unassuming—that made it hard to argue. A part of me wanted to refuse, to insist that I didn’t need anyone’s help, but the exhaustion weighing me down won out.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thanks.”

He gave a small nod, motioning toward his car parked nearby. The drive to my apartment was quiet, the silence between us broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires splashing through puddles. I stared out the window, my mind swirling with a mix of emotions I couldn’t untangle. Yoongi didn’t press for conversation, and for that, I was grateful.

When we arrived, he parked by the curb and followed me up to my apartment. The air inside felt cold and stale, a sharp contrast to the warmth it used to hold. Everything was exactly as I’d left it, but it felt different now—lonelier.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I said, stepping inside and flicking on the lights. Yoongi lingered near the door, his sharp eyes scanning the space.

“Take your time,” he said, leaning against the wall, his presence calm and steady.

I moved through the apartment, grabbing the essentials—a change of clothes, my toothbrush, my charger. But as I packed, the weight of everything began to creep back in. 

I stopped in the middle of the room, gripping the edge of the counter as my chest tightened. Yoongi must have noticed because, before I could process it, he was standing beside me, his voice soft but firm.

“You don’t have to hold it together all the time,” he said.

His words broke something in me, and I let out a shaky breath, the tears I’d been holding back spilling over. I expected him to say more or simply let me be by leaving the room, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed quiet, a solid presence beside me as I let the grief wash over me in waves.

The tears came fast, hot, and relentless, pouring out in a way I hadn’t let myself feel since it all happened. I tried to stifle the sobs, to keep it together, but the weight of everything—Tina’s empty desk, the funeral—broke through whatever fragile composure I had left. My shoulders shook as I leaned heavily on the counter, my hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

For a moment, Yoongi didn’t say anything. The silence between us stretched, filled only by the sound of my uneven breathing and the rain still drizzling outside. I wondered if he was regretting coming with me, if he was silently willing this moment to end. But then, I felt him move closer.

“I’m... not good at this,” he admitted, his voice low and hesitant, almost like he was speaking to himself. “But... you don’t have to do this alone.”

The words were simple, awkward even, but they struck something deep within me. I turned my head slightly, just enough to see him standing there, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, his brows drawn together in concern. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with something softer, something almost unsure.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his hand hovering near my shoulder as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch me or not. Eventually, he settled on a light, tentative pat, like he was testing the waters. It was almost laughable in its awkwardness, but somehow, it made me cry harder.

“Hey,” he said quickly, his voice rising just a little. “It’s okay. I mean, not okay—none of this is—but... you’re allowed to cry.” His hand stayed there, a steady, grounding weight on my shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There was something so painfully honest about the way he spoke, like he was trying so hard to say the right thing even if he didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t polished or rehearsed, but it was real, and that was enough.

“I just—” My voice cracked as I tried to speak. “She was a shitty person, but she didn’t deserve this.”

“I know,” he said softly, his tone steady now. “None of this makes sense. And it’s not fair. But...” He paused, searching for the right words. “It already happened and we must move on. You have to take care of yourself and what you do. Of your own future....”

I nodded, my tears slowing but still spilling over. His hand left my shoulder briefly, and I thought maybe he was stepping back, giving me space. Instead, he grabbed a tissue from a box on the counter and handed it to me, holding it out like it was some kind of peace offering.

“Here,” he said, his voice gruff. “You’re, uh... kind of a mess.”

Despite everything, I let out a choked laugh, taking the tissue and wiping at my face. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice still shaky. “For stating the obvious.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

The heaviness in my chest hadn’t disappeared, but it didn’t feel quite as suffocating anymore. Yoongi didn’t fill the silence with empty platitudes or promises he couldn’t keep. He just stood there, awkward and quiet and real, and somehow, that was exactly what I needed.

-

As we stepped out of my apartment, the rain had lightened to a soft drizzle. Yoongi walked beside me, his pace measured, as if he wasn’t in a rush to leave. I wasn’t either, but I didn’t say anything. The lingering weight of my tears had left me feeling raw, but lighter somehow, as if letting it all out had taken a small part of the burden with it.

We got into his car, and I buckled my seatbelt, glancing at him as he started the engine. The drive to Rya’s place was quiet at first, the steady hum of the heater filling the space. My thoughts swirled, still caught in the strange, bittersweet moment we’d just shared, but something else tugged at the back of my mind.

I turned to look at him, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his face. “Yoongi,” I started, my voice breaking the silence.

“Hm?” he responded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“The bodyguards.” My tone was even, but there was a pointed edge to it. “Why?”

For a second, his hands tightened on the wheel, a flicker of something crossing his face—surprise? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.

He shrugged, the motion nonchalant. “You figured that out, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “They’ve been following me everywhere.”

“Good,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice calm but resolute. “That’s the point.”

I stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but he didn’t offer one. “Why?” I pressed. “Why did you send them? And don’t say it’s because you’re just being ‘nice.’”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk, but it faded quickly. “You didn’t agree to stay with me,” he said simply, glancing at me briefly before focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t just leave you to deal with everything alone. You’re... you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “So your solution was to have me followed?”

“It’s not following,” he corrected, his tone almost teasing. “It’s protecting. There’s a difference.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need bodyguards, Yoongi. I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and the air grew heavier with the weight of the conversation. Finally, he sighed, his voice quieter this time. “You might think you’re fine, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone looking out for you. Especially now.”

There was something in his tone—something softer, almost vulnerable—that caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to argue, but the words got stuck. Instead, I turned to look out the window, the city lights blurring as we passed them.

“I don’t know whether to be mad at you or grateful,” I muttered.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and surprisingly comforting. “Why not both? Seems fair.”

Despite myself, I smiled a little, shaking my head. Typical Yoongi. Always doing things his way, even if it meant annoying me in the process.

The rest of the drive passed quietly, and when we pulled up to Rya’s apartment, he turned off the engine but didn’t make any move to get out immediately.

“Thanks,” I said softly, my hand resting on the door handle. “For the ride. And for... everything else.”

He gave me a small nod, his expression unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

I lingered for a moment before stepping out of the car, the rain now just a faint mist against my skin. As I walked toward the building, I glanced back briefly to see him watching me from the car, his face shadowed but his presence as steady as ever.

Rya’s apartment was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the dreary night outside. The smell of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air as I stepped inside, and the sight of Hoseok and Rya’s familiar faces brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. They greeted me with soft smiles, though their eyes still held traces of the sorrow that lingered from the funeral.

“Hey,” Rya said gently, pulling me into a hug. “I’m glad you’re back, but it took you a while.”

She was referring to me being late. The images of me crying and Yoongi trying to comfort be flooded my mind and a fait blush crept across my cheeks but I decided to not say anything else.  "I had to figure out what to bring." I muttered a lame excuse.

Hoseok appeared behind her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“As okay as I can be,” I admitted, forcing a faint smile.

“Well, you’re not alone,” he said, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. “We’re here.”

The apartment felt cozy, with blankets draped over the couch and soft lighting from a few lamps scattered around the room. It was exactly the kind of space I needed—a temporary refuge from the chaos of my own life.

Rya ushered me into the kitchen, insisting I have some tea before settling in. I obliged, the warmth of the mug grounding me as we sat and talked about nothing in particular. Hoseok tried to lighten the mood with his usual humor, and while it didn’t completely lift the heaviness, it was enough to make me feel a little more human.

As the night wore on, the apartment grew quieter. Hoseok eventually left, giving me and Rya some space, and Rya retired to her room shortly after, leaving me alone with Hades in the living room. The small, neatly arranged space was calming, but my mind refused to quiet. I sat on the couch, staring at my bag where the journal was tucked away.

I told myself I wasn’t going to look at it tonight. I needed rest. But the pull of it was too strong, the questions it raised too loud to ignore. With a sigh, I reached into my bag and pulled it out, the leather cover worn and familiar under my fingers.

Flipping through the pages felt almost intrusive, even though I’d done it before. My eyes skimmed over the familiar handwriting, notes scrawled in a hurried script that hinted at Tina’s urgency. Names, places, fragments of thoughts—it was all there, a chaotic puzzle waiting to be solved.

And then, my breath hitched.

My eyes landed on a sentence, circled twice in a way that made it stand out among the cluttered text.

K told me everything will be okay. The deal would be closed and I don't need to worry, but why do I feel so uneasy as I roam at my apartment during the night? Almost as if someone's watching me.

I stared at it, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't figure out who that man with the letter K was. Soft sigh escaped my lips as I shook my head and closed the journal with a soft thud before putting it back in my bag and closing it securely.  -

I was sitting at my desk, the office buzzing around me with the usual chatter and the clinking of keyboards, trying to focus on the emails piling up. The weight of Tina’s journal still hung heavily on my mind, especially after the discovery last night. The letter 'K” was like a puzzle piece lodged somewhere deep in my brain, but it didn’t fit. Not yet.

My phone buzzed on my desk, breaking my thoughts. I glanced down at the screen and saw my parents’ name flash across it.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. It had been a while since I’d heard from them, and though it was never a bad thing, it felt like I had too many loose ends of my own to deal with. Still, I swiped to answer.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”

“Y/N!” my mother’s voice came through. “We heard about your colleague's passing. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Mom,” I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “Just... busy with work." There was a silence to the other side of the line, I could feel that my answer wasn't satisfactory for them nor did they believe me. "Sweetheart, are you sure you are okay?" I wasn't. Not really. My apartment was trashed, I am staying at a friend's place for the time being and I hold a journal that has a target on my back. No, I am not okay. But I wasn't going to tell them all of this. They'd flip and arrive with the first flight here and I did not want their appearance to complicate things and potentially put a target on their backs too.

“Yes, Mom. Just... work has it's toll on me." "Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating enough and sleeping enough?" I rolled my eyes, leaning back on my chair as I rubbed my temple. "Yes, Mom." "Good, good. So, how's Taehyung?"

"He is fine, we went out during the weekend and spent some quality time together” "Oh, that's lovely. You and him should visit us for the holidays!"  "I am unsure, work here is a killer and I need to finish some project before New Year's Eve." I lied. "I am hoping you'd visit us, you know. It's been a year since we've seen you." I swallowed thickly. "Well, when I get the chance, I will visit." I heard rustling from the other side of the line, "Remember when you were a kid and Taehyung used to steal your dolly toy? It was hilarious, you'd throw whatever you find at him." I heard my dad chuckle and my mom did the same too. "Yeah, I remember." "You were such a feisty child back then, I swear. You also used to have trouble saying Taehyung’s name,” my dad continued. “So you’d always call him ‘Kim.’ You couldn’t quite say his full name, and I think you just got used to calling him that.”

I froze, the cup of coffee in my hand going still. "Wait, what?" "Silly girl, you don't remember it? Taehyung liked it so much that everyone started calling him Kim."

The memory hit me like a rush of cold water. Was he possibly the one Tina referred as K in her journal. I felt my breath hitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What if it was?!

I nodded absently, my mind racing. “Yeah. Mom, Dad, something came up, I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

Before they could say anything more, I hung up, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. Kim. The letter "K." That name had been haunting me for days. The man behind the cryptic letter, the one who had been tied to Tina’s journal—the “K” who had promised everything would be okay...

My hands were shaking slightly as I grabbed Tina’s journal from my bag, flipping through the pages until I landed on the sentence I had found last night. My heart pounded as I read the words again, my eyes scanning the haunting sentence:

K told me everything will be okay. The deal would be closed and I don't need to worry, but why do I feel so uneasy as I roam at my apartment during the night? Almost as if someone's watching me.

Taehyung.

The unease that had crawled through Tina’s words—the feeling of being watched—was too similar to what I had experienced, too unsettling to ignore. Had Tina been trying to warn me? Was she afraid of him?

No, this couldn't be true. There was no way Taehyung would be involved with Tina's murder. He was a kind gracing soul, his eyes sparkled when he smiles and he has the brightest energy. I refused to believe this. Fuck. I was so frustrated that I wanted to cry. Jungkook was rotting at the police station and I felt my hands were tied. -

A week had passed since the call with my parents, and the chaos surrounding Tina's death had only escalated. The media was in full frenzy, throwing every possible theory into the spotlight. They were relentless, accusing Jungkook, linking his name to the case, and bombarding every source with questions. The headlines screamed: Jungkook: The Man Behind Tina's Murder? Did Jungkook Have a Motive? Tina’s Death: The Dark Truth Behind the Hidden Relationship. It felt like the world was spinning out of control, the noise growing louder, and my head throbbed from the constant barrage of speculation.

I couldn’t bring myself to buy into the media's narrative, though. I knew Jungkook, and something about it didn’t sit right. The accusations seemed premature, reckless even. Still, I couldn’t ignore the mounting pressure to find some kind of answer. I was still in heavy denial that Taehyung was the man with the letter K which Tina referred to in her journal. Speaking of Tae, he tried to contact me a few times in the past week but I either ignored his calls or picked up to tell him I was busy. I didn't wish to talk to him right now.

After days of sifting through Tina’s journal and chasing after dead ends, I felt more lost than ever. There was no concrete evidence, no undeniable proof to tie anyone to Tina’s death. I’d met with the police a few times but nothing was helping. They’d brushed off my theories—rightfully so, in hindsight—leaving me to wonder if I was grasping at straws. I was on the edge of giving up, frustrated, exhausted, and feeling hopeless.

It was late in the afternoon when a small white envelope appeared at my office. No return address. No name. Just a plain piece of paper that seemed ordinary, yet I couldn't shake the unease that washed over me. I hesitated for a moment before opening it, wondering who would send me something anonymously.

Inside was a single photograph. My breath caught in my throat when I saw it.

The picture was grainy, clearly taken from a distance. It showed Tina standing in front of her apartment building, the night she was murdered. The time stamped at the bottom of the image was just moments before her estimated time of death. She was talking to someone. The man was standing close to her, but his face was obscured by a black umbrella, as if to shield himself from the rain.

I squinted at the image, my heart beating faster. But then, my eyes narrowed at something else. A dark scar on the man’s wrist. His hand was gripping the umbrella, and the scar was visible just below his sleeve—large, jagged, and unmistakable. It stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his arm. Everything else was shrouded in shadow. His face, his body—everything but that scar and the way his hand gripped the umbrella.

I felt my hands tremble as I turned the photograph over, hoping for any sort of clue written on the back. But there was nothing. No note. No further explanation.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

This wasn’t just any man. This was someone Tina had been with right before her death, someone she clearly knew. But who? And why was his face hidden? Why was there only a scar on his wrist to identify him?

The dark scar—it was familiar, somehow. I racked my brain, my thoughts racing. Where had I seen something like that before?

The answer hit me suddenly, like a flicker of a memory I’d buried. The scar on his wrist... it was so similar to the one I had seen on someone else. 

I stumbled back from my desk, gripping the edge as my head spun. 

I couldn’t waste time second-guessing. I needed to find out who this man was, and fast. I needed to know if the scar was really the key to unlocking everything. Could it be a coincidence? Or was it part of something far more dangerous?

I shoved the picture into my bag, heart pounding in my chest, a new sense of urgency coursing through me. Time was running out. The mystery was growing darker, and I was one step closer to something much bigger than I could have imagined.

I had to keep going. There was no turning back now.

My heart raced as I clutched the photo tightly in my bag, the urgency driving me forward. I had to get to Taehyung’s law firm—he had to know something. The scar on the man’s wrist... I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the missing link, the connection that would tie everything together. I had no time to waste, not when the pieces were finally starting to fall into place.

I moved quickly through the city streets, the damp air clinging to my skin, the sounds of traffic and people filling the space around me. My mind was consumed with the photo, with the potential answers it held, but as I crossed the busy intersection, something felt off. My senses were heightened, like a tightrope walker balancing between instinct and logic.

I barely noticed the car speeding toward me until it was too late.

A sudden screech of tires, the blinding flash of headlights. My body tensed as I tried to step back, but it was too fast—too close. Everything happened in a blur. My heart skipped a beat. I felt the impact, the jolt of the car against my side, sending me crashing into the pavement.

Pain exploded through my body, sharp and overwhelming, but it was the darkness that came next that consumed me. A deep, suffocating blackness, pulling me in from all sides.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. The world around me disappeared, replaced by the weight of nothingness. My mind felt as though it had been ripped away from my body, trapped in a void that seemed endless.

I wanted to scream, wanted to fight, but there was nothing—just silence.

Everything faded away.

[yiichan]

I'd love to see an almost inverse version of effortlessly- where chan (feels odd to say his name in this context lol) is a submissive stalker- almost pathetic and desperate for the reader to pay attention to him, and by extension, be claimed/posessed by the reader. Think limerence. I'm excited to see what you write next!

😶‍🌫️

pairings. yandere!sub!chan x top!m!reader (ft. jeonghan & vernon). word count. 2.7k genre. yandere, request, smut.

warnings. obsessive behaviour, manipulation, the (in)famous drunk dino and kneeling jeonghan story, stalking, drunk sex, no protection (pull out game, sorry. please use a condom, people, ik mpreg doesn't happen in reality but you might never know), anal fingering, biting, chan is feral, reader is younger (idk but i feel like lee chan should be a hyung here), oral sex (chan receiving), use of drugs.

writer's notes. it took me a long time to figure out how i should write this. i might have went out of the theme im sorry hehe. normally im all down for bottom chan (esp wonchan or allchan) but i prefer uke male readers (rip my current and future ocs' and readers' asses). i hope that you are satisfied with this, though. let me know about your thoughts through my inbox, the anon who sent this in!

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

Chan needs you like a fish needs water.

You are his air, his world, his everything. His heart races wildly every time he catches a glimpse of you walking down the lecture hall.

But his love—no, his obsession—runs far deeper than simple admiration. He knows everything about you: your schedule, your favorite seat in the lecture hall, the snacks you nibble on between classes. He’s memorized the little quirks that make you you—the way you twist your pen between your fingers when lost in thought, the slight tilt of your head as you read, the soft furrow of your brows when something puzzles you.

Before he even realizes it, his phone is in his hand, snapping another photo of you. A snapshot of you deep in thought. Another of you sitting alone at the cafeteria. One of you walking home.

And then, there’s the one that sends his pulse racing the most—a picture of you standing by your window, reaching out to close it.

The pictures are printed and carefully pinned across the walls of his room, a shrine dedicated to you. Chan has convinced himself it isn’t wrong. He’s not hurting anyone, after all. He just wants to keep a part of you close, something to hold onto during the hours you’re out of reach.

But it isn’t enough.

The pictures, the fleeting glimpses of you, the stolen moments he captures through his camera lens—they only feed the growing void inside him. He needs more. He craves more.

He doesn’t just want to watch from the shadows anymore. He wants you to see him. To look at him the way he looks at you. To need him the way he needs you.

You were looking at your phone when you bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” you quickly apologized, boxes tumbling to the ground as papers scattered everywhere. The man you knocked onto the floor coughed, peering up at you with narrowed eyes.

“It’s okay. Could you help me find my glasses, please?” His voice was soft and warm—and your heart skipped a beat. You bent down, quickly retrieving a pair of golden-rimmed glasses from the floor, gathering his scattered papers in the process.

You recognized him.

Lee Chan, from the finance department. He was a popular student—quiet, yet effortlessly attractive.

You held out your hand, and Lee Chan grabbed it, using you to pull himself up from the floor. “Thanks.”

“No worries, I wasn’t looking my way…” You passed the papers back to him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment. You were slightly taller than him, and as he stood close, you couldn’t help but notice a faint, sweet strawberry-like scent coming from him.

Your ears burned. What were you thinking?

“It’s fine. I wasn’t paying attention either.” Lee Chan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I know you. You’re from the sports department, right?”

“Yeah. You’re Lee Chan, right?” You made a quick bow, which he returned. “I didn’t know someone famous in this college would know someone like me, haha.” You tilted your head, scratching at the back of your neck again.

Lee Chan raised a brow, his tone surprised. “Are you trying to brag or something? You’re famous for that baseball match, you know?”

“Am I?” You laughed. Lee Chan nodded.

“Anyway, I should be on my way.” He glanced at his watch, ready to leave. You eyed the boxes and papers still scattered around, feeling guilty about knocking into him.

“Actually, I can help you, you know?” you said, flexing your toned arms with a grin. Before Lee Chan could protest, you quickly grabbed the heavy boxes from his hands. Seeing that you’d left no room for argument, Lee Chan reluctantly allowed you to carry the boxes for him.

By the time you reached the finance department, you had already started calling him "Chan hyung"—a natural transition since you two were now exchanging phone numbers. The walk had been brief, but there was something about the way Chan kept glancing at you, his lips curling into a small smile every time you caught his gaze, that made the air feel charged, even in the mundanity of it all.

"Thanks for helping me out," Chan said once you reached the door. He paused, the corners of his mouth still lifted in that soft, almost shy smile.

You grinned. "No problem, hyung. I’ll see you around, then?"

He nodded, and you gave him a quick wave before heading back towards the sports department.

From that day onward, Chan was always on your mind. You could almost always smell that intoxicating scent of sweet strawberries whenever you walked down the corridors. You found yourself checking Chan’s social media, or searching for his figure when you passed the finance department.

Chan texted you from time to time—sometimes to congratulate you on a game, other times to ask if you'd be up for a casual coffee. You would invite him to watch your games, eagerly looking for his familiar figure among the crowds. 

Until one day, when you got a phone call from him.

You had just finished practice and were washing up at the dorm when your phone rang. Stepping out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around your waist, you quickly checked the caller ID. Your eyes widened when you saw who was calling.

Without hesitation, you answered, putting the phone on loudspeaker as you grabbed another towel to dry your hair. "Chan hyung?" you asked, your voice slightly breathless.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone was unfamiliar. You frowned, pausing in your actions as you glanced at the screen. The background noise was chaotic—loud music and indistinct chatter. “Sorry, are you Chan’s friend? Could you come pick him up? He’s, uh, really drunk—VERNON! HOLD HIM!—sorry, he’s very, very drunk right now.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. “Oh.” The unexpected turn of events threw you off balance.

There was a brief pause, and you could hear muffled voices in the background. Whoever was on the phone sounded frazzled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out... but he’s not really making any sense right now. He keeps asking for you. Can you come?”

Your hand tightened around the towel at your waist. Chan, drunk? And asking for you? It was a lot to process in a moment. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be there. Just... send me the address.”

The call ended abruptly, and the address was quickly sent to you. You threw on a casual shirt and black pants, grabbed your jacket and wallet, and headed out of the dorm. You hailed a cab and gave the driver the address.

As you neared your destination, you saw three figures standing at the roadside outside a nightclub. You instructed the cab driver to stop and wait for you, then quickly opened the door and rushed over.

Chan was holding onto a lamppost while one man supported him. The other man was kneeling before him, almost as if begging him to let go of the poor pole. You rushed forward, calling out, “Chan hyung!”

Your heart pounded as you neared the scene. The man who had been kneeling quickly stood up, pointing toward you. “He’s here! Chan-ah, please, let go of the lamppost—”

Chan’s head snapped up, his glassy eyes locking onto yours. A small, drunken smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it seemed distant and unfocused. His grip on the lamppost tightened for a moment before he slowly, shakily let go and staggered toward you. “You... You came,” he slurred, his voice slow and heavy with alcohol.

You instinctively reached out to support him as he wobbled toward you. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol and something else—something sweet, like strawberries. He tried to stand on his own but swayed dangerously, his body pressing too heavily against yours.

The man who had been kneeling sighed in relief, a slight smile on his face. “Thanks for coming. He’s been asking for you for the past half hour. We thought he might knock himself out with the pole at some point.” He sighed, while the other man nodded coolly. You recognized them as Yoon Jeonghan and Vernon Chwe from the marketing department. As Chan leaned heavily on your shoulder, you gave a quick bow to them. “Nice to meet you, sunbaes. I’m—”

“We know you.” Jeonghan gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re the rising star of the baseball team, Cheolie’s most reliable striker. Besides, Channie told us a lot about you.” He sighed at the man currently trying to hide his face in your neck. You quickly wrapped your jacket around him as he tightened his arms around your waist. “I see. Do you have the address to his dorm?”

“About that,” Vernon spoke up. “Chan’s dorm room is undergoing renovations. He’s been crashing at Jeonghan hyung’s place, but since he got drunk, he refused to leave with him. If you don’t mind, could you bring him back to your dorm instead?”

“Sure.” You nodded. Jeonghan looked relieved. “Great, I’ll leave Channie in your hands.” He said, before dragging Vernon off in the opposite direction. You gently guided Chan’s hands off you and led him back to the cab. 

By the time the cab reached your dorm, Chan had already fallen asleep. The driver, kind enough to assist, helped you carry Chan onto your back, and you left him a generous tip. Once inside, you laid Chan gently on your bed.

As you straightened up to grab a warm towel, a hand gripped your shirt tightly. You looked down to see Chan staring up at you, a faint blush across his face. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just getting a towel for you, hyung,” you replied, taking in his appearance. Chan wasn’t wearing his usual glasses—his eyes were wide, pupils dark, pulling you in like a siren. You swallowed, suddenly aware of the sweet scent of strawberries filling the room.

“Stay,” Chan insisted, his head tilting slightly to the side. You nodded, a bit dazed, and before you could fully process what was happening, he pulled you onto the bed, positioning himself to straddle you.

When your lips crashed, you froze, your hands laying helplessly at either side of your hips. You could feel Chan grinding on you, his hands gripping your shirt as his lips moulded with yours. When Chan finally pulled away from you to gasp for air, you quickly held him by the waist, stopping his movements. “Hyung… You’re drunk-”

“‘M not drunk,” Chan replied, his hands snaking down your chest. Your face burnt as he reached the hem of your pants, teasingly pulling at the band. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Hyung…” You swallowed. The air thickens as Chan frowned, leaning so close that your noses touched. “You want me to beg you? Please, fuck me?” He growled, grinding harshly at the tent in your pants. You let out a groan, your grip around his waist tightening. “I-”

“I’m giving you permission to put your cock in my ass right now. I like you.” Your eardrums ringed as Chan confesses, one hand pulling up his shirt while the other working on your pants. You choked on your own saliva at the sight of his body, quickly turning your head to the side. “Hyung, sl-slow down.”

Articles of clothing were soon removed, pooling at the ground of your bed. Chan is now lying beneath you, one hand grabbing the sheets as he moaned loudly, his other hand now tightening around your hair. You hollowed your mouth, your tongue flicking against his tip as you gave a harsh suck. 

Chan whimpered, arching his back off your sheets as his thighs clamped around your head. You ignored the tightness around your head, your finger working relentlessly on his hole as he thrashed around the sheets, wailing loudly before spilling into your mouth. “Ah…ha…”

The taste of salty musk and sweet strawberries filled your tongue as you lolled them out, letting them spill onto your fingers. Using Chan’s cum and your saliva as lube, you continued to venture in him, earning a loud cry from the older man. “Wait- T-too mu-”

“You were impatient just now, hyung.” You replied, forcing his knees to open for you again. Chan panted, looking at you through his hooded lids and wet hair. His upper body was littered with hickeys and bite marks, his nipples red and swollen. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

You added another finger into him, stretching him out as he moaned your name in earnest. A particular sharp jab of your fingers caused him to arch his back yet again, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You poked around that soft muscle for a few more times, before pulling your fingers out. 

“You…” Chan looked down at you, a confused yet fucked out expression on his face. You stood between his legs, your expression suddenly mortified. “Um, hyung, I don’t have condoms…”

“Just do it raw.” Chan deadpanned, rolling his eyes. He raised his knees up, hanging them over your shoulder and hooking you closer to him. “It’s not like I would get pregnant.”

Your cock twitches at his words and you hummed in reply. “You do know the colour system-”

“Green, now hurry up and fuck m- ah, shit,” You guided your hardness towards his hole, burying in Chan’s warmth with one slow thrust. You could feel him sucking you in as you groaned, pushing gently so as to not hurt him. 

Once you bottomed out, Chan’s eyes were unfocused. You leaned downwards to nibble at his swollen lips, and his hand quickly wrapped around your neck, supporting himself. You took this as a sign to continue, and your hips started to move. 

Moans and groans bounced off the walls as you rammed Chan into the sheets. Chan felt like a drug, his addictive scent filling your nose and brain as you continued to plant hickeys along the sides of his neck. It didn’t take long for Chan to arch his back again, and so you stopped. 

“Wha- Y-” Before Chan could say anything, you flipped him around, still impaled in him. Your hips moved at an unforgiving speed, as Chan could only cry your name out in both pleasure and mercy. “Can’t… Please- close…”

“I’m close too, hyung.” You pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder, your hand reaching down to grab at his cock. A few lazy tugs and Chan was cumming, his head on your shoulder as he sobbed, falling to the bed. You groaned at the sudden tightness, pulling out before tight ropes of your cum spurt over Chan’s back and ass. 

“I’ll clean you up, hyung,” you whispered softly as Chan’s heavy eyelids fluttered with exhaustion. Carefully, you lifted him off the bed, guiding him toward the bathroom.

With patience and gentle coaxing, you managed to shower him with warm water, wash away the remnants of the night, and dry him off. By the time you were done, Chan looked peaceful, dressed in clean clothes, and already half-asleep. You laid him gently on your bed, now fresh with newly changed sheets.

Sliding in beside him, you couldn’t resist wrapping your arms around his resting form. His familiar strawberry-like scent lingered, soothing you as you nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.

Contentment swelled in your chest. Tomorrow, you would ask him out on an official date. For now, though, holding him close was more than enough.

bonus:

02:23 a.m.

hannie hyung🐰: so... how did it go? did you get cheol’s favourite junior?

hannie hyung🐰: judging from your lack of response, i guess you got what you want. i really need that strawberry perfume back, you know. besides, if he smells it too often he might get really, like really addicted to it.

hannie hyung🐰: and bononie just cleared out the stash of photos in your dorm, you can bring him back any time.

hannie hyung🐰: we didn't throw it away though, it's at shua's.

hannie hyung🐰: and text me back when you're awake. i can't believe i had to kneel down to you in public, you little freak. do we really have to go all out to that extend?

hannie hyung🐰: hyung loves you, anyway.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[littlefireball]

ꜱʜ|ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ (ᴍ)

ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ʙᴏꜱꜱ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ x ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴛ|ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ|ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴠᴀɴɪʟʟᴀ ꜱᴇx|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ|ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.5ᴋ

"Mr. Park, this is a list of hybrid breeds available on the market." Seonghwa took the file handed to him by his subordinate without any expression on his face and flipped through the pages without reading the descriptions. Seeing a hint of dissatisfaction on Mr. Park's face, his subordinate began to panic, fidgeting like an ant on a hot pan.

"That's it?" Mr. Park's face was filled with displeasure, his eyes bursting with repressed anger. However, he controlled his emotions and didn't unleash his frustration on his subordinate.

"Yes… Yes, these are the only hybrids available in the market." his subordinate stammered nervously, unable to speak clearly, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

"Can't you understand my orders?" Mr. Park coldly stared at his subordinate who was constantly apologizing. Although his face showed no signs of emotion, his gaze was so sharp that it felt like he could tear the person in front of him apart.

"I wanted the strongest and most ferocious hybrids, not these little kittens and bears!" He threw away the documents in his hand, scattering the papers all over the floor like a chaotic white carpet.

The subordinate quickly picked up the scattered documents from the floor, apologizing without looking up, and then hurriedly left the room. "Tsk… a bunch of useless people." Seonghwa drank the red wine placed on the table, the icy sensation not dampening the anger in his heart at all.

It had been months, and he still hadn't found the hybrid he desired ─ a dragon. It was just a rumor, no one had ever seen a real dragon because they were extinct. Yet, there were always rumors about hybrid breeds that claimed to have seen dragons in the past. Although he didn't know if they were true or not, Seonghwa firmly believed in their existence.

His obsession with dragons was well known within the Mafia world, and everyone just thought he was a fool lost in a fantasy world. His room was filled with dragon decorations, even his clothes, his villa… you could imagine that there were traces of dragons everywhere. Perhaps his sincerity towards dragons had touched the heavens because one day, he finally met the dragon he had dreamed of ─ you.

"Wanna join us, Seonghwa?" Hongjoong, one of the strongest mafia leaders and also Seonghwa's best friend, invited him to a black market auction once again.

"Again? I've already gone ten times this month, and none of them had what I wanted."

"C'mon Hwa! Maybe this time you'll find the dragon you want!"

"You say the same thing every time."

"But this time I have an extraordinary intuition, trust me."

"Fine." Seonghwa couldn't resist Hongjoong's request and once again drove to the remote black market auction.

A mysterious and solemn atmosphere pervaded the surroundings of the auction. Tall ancient stone columns stood in the hall, and large black curtains hung from the dark red ceiling, casting a dim light and creating a mysterious ambiance.

The auctioneer, a mysterious middle-aged man, dressed in a luxurious black feather coat, had sharp eyes and a cold smile. He waved a mysterious black auction baton in his hand, occasionally tapping the table to guide the auction.

In the showcase area, treasures were displayed in glass cabinets, shimmering under the dim lights. Rare treasures, magical artifacts and various forbidden items attracted the attention of the spectators. However, Seonghwa had no interest in these treasures; instead, they wore down his patience. He sat with his legs crossed, pursing his lips in dissatisfaction, and whispered, "Is this your extraordinary intuition, Kim Hongjoong?"

"Well, just wait a little longer! It's not here yet!" Ha! If Seonghwa really got angry, he would definitely suffer. With that in mind, Hongjoong felt just as anxious as Seonghwa's subordinate. The auction continued, and Seonghwa's patience was already wearing thin; he straightened his clothes, ready to leave.

"Hey, Seonghwa! Where are you going? It's not over."

"I'm leavi─"

"And now!! This is our final item up for auction! Or should I say, a living creature! Here we are!! A dragon hybrid!" The host dramatically unveiled the red cloth covering the cage, revealing you huddled in the corner, trapped in the cage. Your pitiful appearance broke hearts but gave rise to a terrifying desire for conquest.

Upon hearing the word "dragon," Seonghwa's face suddenly lit up with joy and surprise, as if he were ready to jump up in ecstasy.

"The starting price is ten million─"

"One hundred million!!"

He walked directly towards the stage, crossing over the other spectators, and shouted out a staggering number before the host could even finish his sentence. The host was ecstatic, pounding the table frantically. "Sold!"

He knelt in front of the cage, his eyes shimmering, his face showing a smile that was about to burst into laughter. Your expression, on the other hand, was one of fear as you tightly wrapped your tail around yourself, trying to stay away from the man in front of you. Your eyes conveyed sadness and terror, devoid of any dragon's majestic presence.

"It's okay, my little dragon. Everything is alright! I will shower you with my love." He smiled indulgently, his eyes warm but filled with endless lust.

His words were not empty promises but real commitments.

You found yourself in a grand estate, far removed from the typical confines of a cage. There were no bars, no metallic scent in the air. As you looked around in awe, you were led to a luxurious bath by a group of women who washed away the dust from your body, replacing it with the sweet fragrance of flowers.

"Ah, you've arrived, my dear." The man greeted you as you entered the room, seated elegantly at his desk with crossed legs. He was the most striking man you had ever laid eyes on.

"Are you the one who purchased me?" you inquired timidly.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Master, how may I be of service?" You recalled the teachings of the black market lord - as a slave, your purpose was to please your master. There was no room for defiance, only unwavering loyalty.

"No, that is not what I want," he replied.

"I beg your pardon, master." You immediately knelt, unsure of your transgression but willing to accept fault as per the 'rule'.

"No, a dragon should not cower like this." Seonghwa approached you slowly, noticing your trembling form. He must have been ready to strike you.

"I apologize…" you began, bracing for impact. However, instead of a blow, he gently patted your head and knelt down in front of you. His gaze held a mix of tenderness, concern, and a hint of frustration. How could a dragon hybrid, known for its courage, exhibit such timidity?

What had the black market done to you?

"Shhh, there is no need for apologies. You have done nothing wrong,"

"But…" You tried to speak, only to have his finger gently silence you, his touch grazing your cheek. Blushing, you realized how close you were, enveloped in his breath and the intoxicating scent of flowers that surrounded him. You tentatively brushed his palm, savoring the unfamiliar sensation of his soft touch.

"Hm, so cute," he remarked, offering you a rare compliment.

"No one has ever said that to me."

"How could they not? You are beautiful, my dear." Leaning in, his finger traced your lower lip. "I will shower you with my love. That is my promise." He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, testing the waters, showing his desire but not imposing it.

Your cheeks flushed deeper, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension, yet you made no move to resist. The overwhelming rush of emotions left you feeling as if you were floating on air.

"Tell me if you want more."

"Yes, my master."

"Don't call me master, call me hwa." He said before left your chin and kissed your red lips. Your lips touched gently, soft and warm, and endless sweetness flowed between your lips. You wrapped around his neck as he slid his hands under your thighs, picked you up, and placed you at the bed.

"You're burning up, Y/N. Do you have a fever?" He placed his hand on your forehead, feeling the heat radiating from your body. A look of concern crossed his face as he realized how high your temperature was. Suddenly, you grabbed his collar and kissed him, surprising both of you with your boldness.

"Mmm…I feel so hot, your scent is intoxicating…I can't control myself…"

"Are you…going into heat?" It dawned on him then, the reminder from the auction host about your upcoming rut. He knew he should have prepared for it, ensuring you had everything you needed. Seonghwa wanted to help you, to take care of you. He just didn't anticipate how sensitive you would be, how a simple kiss could trigger your heat.

"It's okay, love. I'll take care of you." He drew you close, your bodies pressing together as he kissed you passionately. Closing his eyes, he savored the softness of your lips against his, feeling a rush of warmth flood through him. You responded eagerly, parting your lips to deepen the kiss. Your breaths mingled, creating a sweet and heady sensation. His hands tenderly caressed your hair, your cheeks, before settling on your waist.

"Have you done this before?"

"Yah…"You nodded. "They had put me in the cold water tub for a few days to cool me down…" "No, no. I am not saying this." His brow furrowed once more, a surge of anger bubbling up inside him. He was well aware of the inhumane methods employed by the black market, yet the idea of you suffering was something he simply could not bear.

"Did I say something to upset you?" You trembled, haunted by memories of your former master who would unleash his fury on you in fits of rage. Seonghwa, however, seemed different, kind-hearted and gentle.

"No, it's just… have you had sex before?" "No," you replied softly, trailing off. "This is a nice way to relax without having to soak in a bath." He paused, meeting your innocent gaze. It was clear that he was the one struggling, not you. His desire stirred within him, causing him to grow hot and breathless. Your gentle touch drove him to the brink of madness.

"Are you sure you want this? You can say no if you're not comfortable." Your eyes widened in surprise, never expecting him to give you the option to refuse.

"Does it feel good…?"

"Yes, it does," he assured you. Leaning in, he kissed your lips once more, his expression filled with tenderness.

"Please. I want this." You wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him closer.

"As you wish, my dear." Pressing his body against yours, he felt the rhythm of your breaths syncing. His arousal nestled between your thighs, creating a delicious friction against your lower core. The sensation was so pleasurable that you instinctively parted your legs, granting him greater access. He couldn't believe his eyes as he removed your silk pajamas, revealing a chest marred by scars and bruises that tugged at his heartstrings.

Bowing his head, he tenderly traced his tongue over your scars, as if seeking to heal them. His kisses trailed down to your nipple, where he suckled and licked, eliciting soft moans from you as you wrapped your arms around his head, swept away by the wave of new sensations.

Both of your clothes were thrown to somewhere, lying naked and making out on the bed. He sat up straight and aimed at your entrance. "Tell me if it hurts, hm?" As he entered you, a rush of excitement caused your juices to flow, creating a sensation of intense pleasure. "So wet for me," he whispered into your ear, his movements slow and deliberate, allowing you to adjust to his presence inside you.

You arched your back, closing your eyes and forming a soft 'O' with your mouth as the unfamiliar yet satisfying feeling of being penetrated washed over you. Your shy moans were met with his encouragement to be louder, igniting a fire within you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you urged him to go deeper, the wetness and tightness of your core driving him wild with desire. His groans mixed with your moans, creating a symphony of pleasure that filled the room.

"I can't hold back, you feel too good," he confessed, increasing the pace of his thrusts, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. His words of admiration fueled your passion, making you feel desired and perfect in his eyes.

With a swift movement, he repositioned you on your side, promising comfort as he entered you once more. The new angle intensified the sensations, leaving you dizzy with pleasure as he continued to move with a fervor that matched your own.

"Ah~hwa~"As the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, you boldly called out his name, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. In that moment, everything felt perfect, as if you were made for each other in this dance of passion and desire.

"Say my name again or I fuck you harder." He looked at your bouncing chest and met your innocent yet lust gaze, his cock twitched as all of the heat rushed to the tip. Sperm flowed out a bit and mixed with your juices. This feeling was incredible.

"Hwa, please." "Shit!" He flipped you over and thrust from behind. You arched your back and threw your head, moaning from the endless pleasure.

"Such a good girl."

"Th…thank you…hwa…"

"Oh? You like praise, huh? You are sucking me in, did so well, babe."

His chest pressed against your back, intertwined with your fingers, kissing your nape and leaving so many bite marks. You turned your head and kissed him. His movement grew more intense, the speed reaching an indescribable level but not painful at all. Your groaning and moaning became choppy as if something grabbed your throat and made you breathless.

"Knot…" You murmured. You knew it was impossible for a human to knot but your most intimate space was already wide opened. You needed him to cum, cum in that space to calm you down from the rut. "Please…hwa…cum inside me." "Of course, my darling." He flipped you over and placed you both legs on his shoulder, gripping your kneel and pushed as deep as possible…

-----

You nested in his arm while your back was pressing against his chest. He left a trail of kisses on your face and neck, giving you the best after care. His cock was still inside you then his sperm would not flow out.

"Does it hurt?" You shook your head and he pecked at your head.

"You won't be in the cage again, I promise." Your tears welled up in your eyes and you turned your head.

"Thank you, hwa." He smirked and caressed your cheek.

"Don't cry, everything is alright." He gave you a deep kiss before pulling out and flipping you over.

"You are mine, only my little dragon." He leaned down and fucked you again.

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART EIGHTEEN

summary: broken and betrayed, you return to the only place left—myung-gi. but he’s falling apart, unraveling at your feet, sobbing apologies and promises you don’t believe. you should leave. you should walk away. but you just stand there, letting him cling to you, too exhausted to do anything else.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: cheating, swearing, mention of dv

bad investment masterlist

You cried the entire drive home.

Sobs wracked your body, shaking your shoulders, blurring the road ahead.

This was karma. It had to be.

Karma for cheating on Myung-Gi. For falling into something you had no business falling into. For getting swept up in the warmth of Thanos’ hands, his voice, his lies.

You deserved this.

The betrayal. The heartbreak. The suffocating weight of knowing you had been nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s war.

Even when you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, the tears didn’t stop. You gripped the steering wheel, taking deep, shuddering breaths, but it didn’t help.

Where else could you go?

Your mother’s house? And tell her what, exactly?

That the man you think you might be in love with had stalked you, drugged you, used you? That the boyfriend you had tried to leave was the only person left to turn to?

No. You didn’t have a choice.

So, with trembling hands, you wiped at your face, trying—and failing—to compose yourself before stepping out of the car.

The elevator ride up felt like a funeral march.

When you reached your door, you hesitated.

Seconds stretched into an eternity before you finally turned the handle, stepping into the mess you had abandoned a few short days ago.

What the fuck…

The apartment was a disaster.

Myung-Gi’s clothes were scattered across the floor, crumpled like he had ripped them off in a frenzy. Empty takeout containers littered the kitchen counters and coffee table, their contents rotting. Dishes were stacked high in the sink, crusted with old food. Tissues—so many tissues—were crumpled on the couch, on the floor.

And glass.

Shattered.

Everywhere.

You swallowed hard, stepping over the mess, careful not to cut yourself.

You shut the door behind you with a soft click.

“Myung-Gi?”

At the sound of your voice, he appeared—like a ghost summoned by your presence.

Wide eyes. Hollow cheeks. Stubble shadowing his jaw, his lips chapped, his clothes wrinkled like he hadn’t changed in days.

He looked like shit.

But so did you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, suddenly, he moved.

Fast.

Rushing toward you, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it stole the breath from your lungs.

And you let him.

Because fuck—

Even though he was an asshole. Even though he had hit you. Even though you had planned to leave—

You were drowning, and all you wanted was for someone, anyone, to hold you together.

The tears started up again, violent, gasping sobs breaking past your lips as you clung to him, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

You didn’t want him.

Didn’t love him.

But right now, he was here.

And the one person you really wanted was a ten-minute drive down the road.

“I love you,” Myung-Gi muttered into your hair, his voice thick with something like desperation. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t reply.

Because you weren’t sure what was worse—

The fact that, maybe, he was lying.

Or the fact that so were you.

Myung-Gi’s grip on you tightened, as if he thought you might slip through his fingers if he loosened it even a little. His whole body shook against yours, breath ragged, uneven.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered.

His voice cracked, breaking apart like fragile glass, and before you could even process what he’d said, he was pulling back just enough to look at you.

His face was a wreck. Red-rimmed eyes, snot running from his nose, lips trembling like he was barely holding himself together.

And then, just like that, he wasn’t holding himself together at all.

He collapsed.

Right there in the doorway.

Knees hitting the floor with a painful thud as he clung to the hem of your shirt like a fucking child.

“I thought you were dead,” he repeated, voice thick with tears. “You didn’t text me. You didn’t call. You just—” He hiccuped, shaking his head violently. “You just fucking left, and I—I didn’t know what to do.”

You said nothing.

Because what was there to say?

“I swear, I tried to eat,” he sobbed, pressing his forehead against your stomach, gripping your waist like his life depended on it. “I tried, I did, but it wouldn’t go down. Nothing stayed down. My stomach—fuck—my stomach felt like it was eating itself alive.”

You stared down at him, numb, watching as he broke apart at your feet.

“I drank. I drank so much,” he choked out, rubbing his face against your shirt, smearing tears and snot onto the fabric. “I thought if I got drunk enough, I’d pass out and maybe—maybe I’d wake up and this would all be a dream. Or maybe I wouldn’t wake up at all.”

Your stomach twisted, but not with sympathy.

With exhaustion.

You were so fucking tired.

“I kept thinking—” His voice cracked again, more violent this time. “I kept thinking about that night. About when I hit you.” He let out a choked, ugly sound—something between a sob and a gasp for air. “I didn’t mean to, baby, I swear I didn’t. It was just—fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know why I did it. I just—I saw your face, and you were looking at me like you didn’t love me anymore, and I panicked. I lost control. But I’m not like that. You know I’m not like that, right?”

Your fingers twitched at your sides.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you said nothing.

And Myung-Gi kept talking.

“I told myself I’d fix it,” he whispered. “I swore to myself. I’d do whatever it took. Be better. Be good.” His fingers dug into your waist, as if to ground himself, as if to make sure you were still there. “But you left, and I—I didn’t get the chance. I didn’t get to show you that I could be better. I could be the man you need.”

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, staring down at the wreckage of him, the weight of his words pressing heavy on your chest, suffocating you.

It was so fucking miserable.

All of it.

Him, you, this moment.

You should’ve walked out.

Should’ve turned around and slammed the door behind you.

But you didn’t.

You just stood there, still as a statue, as Myung-Gi sobbed into your stomach, saying everything and nothing at the same time.