#they are so painfully in love but don’t realize that’s what it is

[honeyncherry]

secret of us V - joe burrow

summary you’ve always been joe’s little secret, but secrets have a way of slipping through cracks — especially when love refuses to stay hidden anymore

content 18+, suggestive, angst, fluff

part four

It took three seconds to realize what was happening.

One. The blinding flash sears itself into your vision leaving a ghostly imprint behind. You blink, but the world doesn’t clear— it stays blurred, spinning out of focus. The air crackles, charged with something you feel coursing through every nerve.

Two. The shouted voices slice through the chaos as the pieces begin snapping into place: the cameras, the sudden crowd, the world collapsing in on itself. It feels like a nightmare where no matter how loud you scream, you can’t wake up.

Three. His hand grabs for yours, a grip of steel, and you hold on for dear life. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The pull of his touch says it all: Run.

It took fourteen seconds to get to the car.

One. Your feet falter on the pavement, his sudden tug jolting you forward. His pace is quick, his shoulders a solid wall against the growing noise.

Five. Your breath comes in short, uneven bursts. Your lungs burn, catching in your throat as you struggle to match his strides.

Nine. The car comes into view, his free hand fumbling for the keys in his pocket, every movement laced with urgency.

Fourteen. The door slams shut behind you, the echo rippling in the quiet. Inside, everything feels smaller, but no less suffocating.

It took eight seconds to leave the parking lot.

One. The click of the engine turning over, the low rumble vibrating through the silence.

Four. You don’t look at him. You can’t.

Six. The first motion forward, tires crunching against gravel as the car pulls away, leaving the chaos behind.

Eight. The world outside blurs, neon streaks against the darkness as the car slips into the flow of traffic.

And now?

It’s been four hundred and twelve seconds since that moment. Four hundred and twelve seconds since the flash of a camera shattered everything you thought you knew.

Is it possible for a single moment to stretch and shrink at the same time? To feel infinite and fleeting, slipping through your fingers even as it carves itself into your memory?

The question loops in your mind, circling endlessly, as the glow of the streetlights flashes across the car windows. The world outside feels unreal, hazy and distant. But here, everything feels vividly clear — painfully so. The rattle of the engine, the silence of the radio, the shallow sound of breathing in a space that feels impossibly heavy.

You replay it again and again: the savage flashes, freezing you in a way that feels too permanent, too exposed. His hand wrapped around yours, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let go.

The way his eyes locked onto you, saying everything his voice didn’t. And you followed without question. Because how could you not, when he looked at you like that? Like the earth itself might crack open if you didn’t.

But now, in the suffocating quiet of the car, another thought lingers in an unshakeable manner: What does it mean when someone holds onto you like that? Like letting go isn’t even an option.

It feels bigger than the moment, spilling over into the corners of your mind where other thoughts linger. You’ve spent so long trying to untangle this, trying to understand the pull he has on you. This quiet gravity that makes it impossible to stay away, even when you know you probably should.

It’s not just the way he looks at you, though that’s part of it. It’s the way he exists in your life, like he’s always been there, even when he hasn’t. Like he’s a constant you didn’t realize you needed until it was too late to imagine life without him.

Four hundred and twelve seconds, and you’re still replaying it. The light. His hand. The urgency of the moment.

Four hundred and twelve seconds since the moment everything changed.

Four hundred and twelve seconds, and you still don’t know what to say.

The Solution 

You’ve always been good at overthinking. Analyzing every word, every look, every moment until it loses its shape entirely. Luckily, over the years, you’ve learned how to temper the thoughts, pushing them aside just enough so they don’t consume you. Born out of necessity, it became a skill that made sense of things that felt too big, too messy to hold.

But tonight, in the stillness of Joe’s car, that careful control feels fragile. Like the threads holding your thoughts together could snap at any moment. The events of the night are too big, too messy, and too loud to fit into those neat corners you’ve carved space for.

When he parks right outside your apartment, Joe doesn’t move at first, his body stiff, like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will. One hand grips the gear stick so tightly his knuckles whiten, while the other rests on his knee, fingers twitching like they want to reach for something but don’t know what.

“I messed up,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence between you.

You glance at him, startled. “What?”

“I messed up,” he repeats, quieter now, almost like he��s talking to himself. His eyes stay fixed on the empty parking lot ahead, the glow of the overhead lights casting shadows across his face. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been smarter about all of this.”

You blink, the weight of his words hitting you all at once. “Joe, you couldn’t have—”

“Yes, I could’ve!” he snaps, voice loud enough to make you flinch. He exhales sharply, raising his hand and dragging it down his face. His palm scrapes over tired eyes before falling heavily to his lap. “This is my world. I know the risks, and I brought you into it anyway. Now look at what’s gonna happen.”

Your stomach twists at the guilt in his tone. “You didn’t do this,” you murmur, tone gentle. “Those people out there? That’s not on you. You didn’t ask for it, and neither did I, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “It feels like my fault. Every single part of this feels like my fault.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes your chest ache. You want to reach for him, but something about the way he’s holding himself — so tightly wound, like he might snap, stops you. “Joe,” you say carefully. “You didn’t force me into this. I chose to be here. I chose you.”

His head snaps toward you, his eyes assessing you. For a moment, he looks like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s trying to find some hidden meaning in your words. “You don’t get it,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what they’re going to say. What they’re going to do. They don’t care about you, about how this could hurt you. All they see is me, and anyone connected to me becomes fair game.”

“I don’t care about them,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can spiral further. “I care about you. That’s all that matters to me.”

His jaw tightens, gaze dropping to where his hands rest in his lap. For a long moment, the only sound is the rattle of the car engine. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw, stripped of all the bravado he usually hides behind. “I’m scared.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this,” he repeats for the tenth time, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Of ruining us. Of losing you because I can’t keep my shit together.”

You don’t know what to say, so you do the only thing you can think of. 

Your hand finds his where it rests on his leg, fingers curling gently around his own. His skin is cold to the touch, and you wonder if he’ll pull away. But instead, his hand shifts under yours, fingers threading through yours like it’s instinct.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you say softly, holding his stare. “I’m here, Joe. I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip tightens, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but doesn’t quite know how. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for,” he murmurs, almost like he’s trying to warn you away.

“Maybe I don’t,” you reply. “But I’m still here. That has to count for something.”

He watches you for a long moment, the tension in his body finally starting to ebb. “It counts for everything,” he says quietly, the words feeling so honest, so simple, you almost forget to breathe.

The silence that follows feels different. It’s still quiet, but the weight of it seems to shift, no longer pressing on you but instead settling between you like something you both understand now. There’s a calmness to it, a fragile kind of peace that you’re not sure either of you knows how to hold onto yet.

Joe turns back to the windshield, his hand still wrapped around yours. His thumb brushes absently across your knuckles, a soft, repetitive motion that somehow feels like it’s grounding you just as much as it seems to be grounding him. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, the words spoken so quietly you almost think you imagined them.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you say, a soft smile ghosting across your lips.

And then you feel it. Not the fear of being exposed, or the chaos of his world pulling at yours. Not the shadows of doubt or the suffocating weight of all the things that could go wrong.

No. It’s a gnawing sensation, the tender pull deep in your chest that feels like both comfort and pain, wrapping itself around you like something you can’t shake. The kind of feeling that tells you what you’ve been denying for too long: you love him.

You’re in love with Joe.

You don’t know when it started, or how. Could it have been the stolen glances, when his eyes found yours across crowded rooms and locked onto you just long enough to make your heart stutter? Those glances weren’t casual. They felt as if they carried unspoken confessions, like he was saying something meant only for you.

Maybe it was in the warmth of his hand on those occasions when he reached for you. The way his fingers laced through yours with an ease that left you breathless, as if his touch had always been destined to find yours.

Or maybe it was in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, as though you were something he couldn’t figure out how to keep but couldn’t bear to lose. When he leaned in, just a little closer than necessary, it didn’t feel like coincidence — it felt like gravity, always pulling him toward you, like the universe itself had decided to play matchmaker. Like it knew he craved it, craved you.

Was it in the quiet nights, when the conversation faded but neither of you moved, and the world seemed to hold its breath around you? Those silences weren’t empty — no, they were full of all the things you were both too afraid to say.

Or maybe it was in the small, ordinary things: the way his laugh softened when you were the one making him smile, or the way his gaze held something deeper, like you weren’t just someone he cared for, you were someone he needed.

It’s possible that it wasn’t any one thing, but instead the way that being around him had shifted into something more, something inevitable. Like you had never truly been just friends. 

Over the past couple of months, it had become harder to convince yourself otherwise. Harder to ignore the way your heartbeat kicked up when he was near. Every conversation seemed to carry more meaning than it used to, as if you were both inching toward something neither of you had planned but couldn’t stop.

So, maybe it wasn’t any one moment at all, but a slow unraveling, like the fragile thread holding you together had been pulled loose without you even noticing. Little by little, it unraveled until it finally snapped, and by the time you realized it, you were already falling.

And the fall wasn’t chaotic or sudden. It was quiet, so quiet you hadn’t even heard it coming until you hit the ground, breathless and entirely his.

With that realization comes the weight of everything you’ve tried to ignore.

You’d told yourself this wasn’t love. That it couldn’t be. That it was something temporary, something you could let go of when the time came. You tried to believe it and hold on to the idea that walking away would be easy. 

But now, with his hand in yours and his faint declaration echoing in your mind: I love you — you know you were wrong. His words didn’t just sit there; they seeped in, filling the cracks you’d tried to patch over with excuses. Because it wasn’t just his touch that felt familiar; it was the way he laid his heart bare, leaving you no place to hide. They pulled you under. 

You love him. 

Terrifyingly. 

Completely. 

Irrevocably.

And the truth is, you don’t want to let him go.

Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s reckless. Maybe it’s the kind of thing that could ruin everything if you let it. But none of that matters anymore. Because in this moment — with his presence grounding you and the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips — it feels like enough.

For now, this is enough.

The Party 

“It’s just something small,” Joe had said leaning against his kitchen counter. “Nothing big. Just a couple guys from the team, some of their girls, barely anyone.”

You’d hesitated then, rolling the strap of your top between your fingers. The thought of showing up somewhere in public with Joe still made your anxious thoughts skyrocket after what happened just a couple of days ago. 

Safe to say, the media is ruthless.

Joe noticed your hesitation. His brows pulled together like he wanted to say something comforting, but wasn’t sure what. He didn’t push. He never did.

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding hopefully. Your voice was calmer than you felt. You pursed your lips, the realization settling in — this would be the first time you’d be in his world like this. You, him, and everyone else. Not hidden in the shadows but right there, where people could see you.

Would they wonder why Joe brought you? Would they piece together what the public had already started whispering about?

“It’s really no pressure,” Joe added, sagging his shoulders and leaning forward. “I just thought... it’d be nice to have you there.”

And just like that, the warmth in his voice melted through some of the fear knotted in your chest.

You managed a small smile. “I know.”

Now you’re here, standing just outside the front door of the house, the muffled thump of music vibrating through the walls. Joe is by your side, his hand resting lightly on your back as he opens the door.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, even though your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. “Mhm. Just a little nervous.”

His hand stays for a moment longer, warm and steady. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he murmurs. With that, he guides you inside.

The space is sprawling, filled with the soft glow of dim lighting, conversation, and music that pulses just enough to set the mood without being overwhelming. The smell of food drifts faintly from the kitchen, and you spot a few familiar faces mingling in small clusters around the room.

A few heads turn when you walk in, mostly curious glances. Nothing too intense, but enough to make you hyper-aware of Joe’s hand still resting lightly on your back. You hope you look more put together than you feel.

“Relax,” Joe murmurs, his lips brushing close to your ear. “I‘m right here.”

Before you can respond, Ja’Marr’s voice booms from across the room.

“Joe! There’s our golden boy.” He weaves through the crowd with his usual grin and a drink in hand. “And hey — look who he brought with him! Superstar, it’s been a minute.”

You smile, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. “You’ve been busy, Ja’Marr. Don’t blame me.”

He chuckles, pulling you into a quick, friendly hug. “True, but you could’ve texted. You’ve got my number, right?”

Joe raises a brow, smirking. “Pretty sure she has mine. That’s enough.”

Ja’Marr snorts. “Possessive much? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal her.”

Before either of you can respond, someone calls Ja’Marr’s name, waving him over. He gives you both a knowing smile, like he’s in on a secret you haven’t figured out yet. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

Joe chuckles under his breath, leaning down so only you can hear. “Ignore him,” he mutters.

He guides you through the room, his chest brushing lightly against your back as you weave through groups of people. The hum of conversation and music blurs around you like static. Your first few conversations are polite but brief — quick introductions and names you probably won’t remember tomorrow.

As Joe leads you to the bar setup, you glance up at him. He seems relaxed, like he’s done this a million times, but you know better. You know how much he hates public interactions like this: the noise, the small talk — but somehow, he’s making it look effortless. He catches you watching him.

“You good?” he asks, voice soft.

You’re about to answer when someone stumbles into you, a guy neither of you recognize, tipsy and barely aware of how he’s thrown you off balance. Joe’s arm is around you in an instant, pulling you firmly against him.

“Watch it, buddy,” Joe says, cocking his head slightly as the guy mumbles an apology and stumbles off.

“I’m fine,” you say, stifling a laugh as you steady yourself. “Thanks, Captain America.”

Joe’s lips twitch. “Don’t tempt me. You know I’d tackle someone if I had to.”

“Oh, I know.” You nudge him playfully. “But let’s avoid that, yeah?”

He chuckles, urging you forward. His fingers brush against yours briefly as he grabs two drinks and hands you one. The cool glass anchors you, but it’s Joe’s presence hat keeps you steady.

Just as you’re settling in, familiar faces approach. Sam and Jess greet you with warm smiles, Jess pulling you into a quick hug.

“There she is!” Jess says, her eyes lighting up. “I was wondering when we’d see you.”

You smile as Jess nods toward Joe. “I see you’ve got your shadow tonight.”

Joe raises a brow. “Shadow?”

Jess grins. “You heard me. Wherever you go, she goes.”

Sam chuckles, giving Joe a playful nudge. “Or maybe it’s the other way around. What’s the deal, Burrow? Can’t keep her out of your sight?”

Joe laughs, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he shakes his head. Sam claps him on the back, and the two slip into conversation about something you don’t quite catch. Jess links her arm through yours, leading you a few steps away for a quick catch-up.

“How have you been?” she asks.

The conversation flows easily, filled with updates on work, life, and everything in between. Before you know it, Sam sneaks up behind Jess, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Mind if I steal my wife back?” he teases, swaying her slightly.

Jess giggles, leaning into him. “You’ve had me all night.”

“Still not enough,” Sam grins, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Jess rolls her eyes fondly as he tugs her back toward the crowd. “See you soon,” she calls with a wink.

You shake your head, laughing softly as you step back beside Joe.

“They’re always like that, huh?” you say.

Joe leans closer, his arm resting casually on the countertop, fingers brushing against yours again. “Yep. But they’re not wrong.”

You blink, a little caught off guard, and turn to face him. “About what?”

“Not wanting to let you out of my sight.”

Your breath catches, and before you can respond, he’s smiling again, the glint in his eyes softening the weight of his words.

“Come on,” he looks around. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.

Joe takes your hand, and you follow him as he weaves the two of you through the house, brushing past groups of people without a second glance. When the door to the back patio opens, the air shifts — cooler, quieter, an overall welcome contrast to the buzz inside. String lights hang above, casting a soft glow over the deck and the surrounding yard, like you’ve stepped into a secret corner of the night.

You settle onto the top step of the deck, knees tucked close together as you relax into the moment. Through the open patio door you spot a TV mounted inside, playing a replay of last night’s Thursday night game. The players’ jerseys blur across the screen as you watch them move, your thoughts drifting.

Joe catches you staring, the soft glow of the lights catching the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say softly, a smile pulling at your lips. “It just reminded me of when you tried to teach me how to throw a perfect spiral.”

Joe groans dramatically, tossing his head back like he’s reliving the trauma. “How could I forget? You nailed me right in the chest with the ball.”

“You told me to ‘just throw it!’” you protest, laughing. “That’s on you.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t mean at me,” he says, grinning. “But I’ll admit, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”

Your laughter lingers, but it fades when his hand brushes against your knee. It’s a whisper of a touch, something casual that feels anything but. He doesn’t move, and neither do you.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, playful but edged with something deeper, “I still think you did it on purpose.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “Maybe I did.”

“Yeah?” His fingers shift slightly, sliding up and beginning to trace soft circles against your leg. “What else haven’t you told me?”

His touch sends butterflies through you and the playful banter blurs into something else entirely. His thigh presses lightly against yours, and when you meet his gaze, it’s no longer just playful; it’s careful and maybe even hopeful, like he’s giving you a choice.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to figure it out.”

His smile softens, but the weight of his gaze stays steady. The space between you shrinks without either of you moving an inch. The cool breeze drifts past, but it barely registers, not with him right next to you and warmth buzzing under your skin. His fingers continue their slow, absentminded movements on your knee, like he’s forgotten he’s even doing it.

The conversation flows easily from there. Soft teasing, shared memories, and those idling stares that neither of you bothers to hide. Every laugh, every small tease feels like a thread pulling you closer, wrapping you both in something that feels too easy to sink into. And neither of you seem in any hurry to pull away.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks after a moment, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” you say, meeting his gaze. “More than I expected to.”

“Good.” His eyes stare into yours for a moment longer before he finally exhales, fingers giving your leg a gentle squeeze before standing. “Come on,” he murmurs while holding a hand out and helping you to your feet. “Let’s head out.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he guides you back through the house, throwing your cups and brushing past a few familiar faces, exchanging quick goodbyes. By the time you step outside, the cool breeze feels harsher now, weaving through your clothes like a needle threading cold straight into your core. You shiver as it grips you.

Without a word, Joe notices and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. His hands hover over you as he gently guides your arms into the sleeves. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, clutching the jacket a little closer to you.

“I wanted to,” he replies simply, the sincerity in his voice winding itself into a part of you that feels untouched by him.

The walk to his car is quiet, but it’s not awkward. Your shoulders brush every few steps, and you can feel the energy of the night still there between you. When he pulls up to your building, he turns off the engine but doesn’t move right away. Instead, he sits there for a moment, looking over at you like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.

When he walks you to your door, his pace is unhurried, like he’s savoring the final seconds of the night. His hand lays itself on your arm, his thumb brushing gently against the sleeve of his jacket. For a moment, you think he might lean in. You think you might.

But neither of you moves.

Instead, his gaze stays locked on yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly.

“Goodnight,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible.

He hesitates for just a second before stepping away, and you stay there, watching him until he disappears into his car. You know he won’t leave until he’s sure you’re safely inside.

Once you step through the door, you close it softly behind you, locking it before leaning back against the cool surface. Your eyes flutter shut, and you exhale, the weight of the night settling into you in the best way. The warmth of his jacket still clings to you, and his scent wraps around you like a second skin.

You pull the fabric tighter, holding on to him just a little longer.

The Tabloids

The first message hit just after sunrise, the soft buzz of your phone pulling you from the edges of sleep. You blinked against the dim morning light, reaching for it on the nightstand. Mia’s name lit up the screen, along with a message that made your stomach twist:

Mia: Just a heads up before you see it yourself. They’re at it again.

You sat up, that familiar itch beginning to form in the back of your mind. After what had happened a couple of days ago, you already knew what this was about. Your heart pounded as you opened your browser and typed “Joe Burrow” into the search bar.

The headlines popped up immediately, one after another, each one louder than the last:

“Late-Night Deckside Romance? Burrow Seen Getting Cozy With Unnamed Woman at Private Party.”

Your breath hitched as you tapped on the first link. The article loaded too quickly, giving you no time to prepare. The first photo hit like a punch to the gut — Joe sitting beside you on the patio steps, his body pressed beside yours, his hand resting on your leg. The glow of the string lights overhead made the scene look dreamy, romantic.

The whole atmosphere conveyed how special last night had felt to you, how much it had meant. But now, the intimate moment was all on display for strangers to analyze, twist, and pick apart. The quotes from the article stung:

“Looks like Burrow isn’t spending his off nights alone anymore. Sources say the pair spent most of the evening together, sharing quiet time away from the rest.”

“The way they leaned into each other was more than telling. If this wasn’t a date, it was certainly giving off the vibe of something more than casual acquaintances.”

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled down, stopping at the next photo: Joe placing his jacket over your shoulders, helping you into it. The caption beneath the image made you shake your head and scoff a quiet laugh:

“Chivalry isn’t dead! Our quarterback is seen wrapping his mystery date in his jacket, making sure she’s cozy before they leave together.”

You closed the tab for a moment, setting the phone down like it was burning you. But you couldn’t leave it alone. The curiosity gnawed at you, and soon enough, you were back, pulling up the photos from a few days ago — the ones from the night at the bar.

This time, you noticed they’d somehow gotten a picture you hadn’t seen before. There you were at the counter, Joe standing close behind you, his chest brushing against your back. The next image showed him leaning down, his mouth near your ear as you tilted your head to hear him better. Of course, they’d taken the image at face value and run with it:

“Mystery Girl Captures Burrow’s Full Attention During Night Out.”

And then came the comments, scattered beneath the articles like debris after a storm:

“She’s cute but doesn’t really stand out. Wonder how long this will last.”

“It’s always something new with him, isn’t it?”

“Hope she knows what she’s getting into.”

You sighed, your fingers hesitating over the screen before curiosity won again. You scrolled further until an all-too-familiar headline caught your attention, stopping you cold:

“Passion or Trouble? Burrow Spotted in Heated Alleyway Argument Before Leaving with Mystery Woman.”

Your stomach flipped, the weight of recognition sinking in immediately. You didn’t need to click on it to remember the photos. You’d already seen and memorized them — Joe’s hands clenched in fits, and your own posture rigid. The dim lighting casted sharp shadows over his tense expression, and most of all, the way the people had made his confession look like some explosive argument instead of what it truly was.

“An emotional confrontation unfolded last night as Burrow and his companion were spotted in what appeared to be a tense discussion before running off together.”

“Witnesses report raised voices and what seemed to be a heated but private moment between the pair before they left the scene hand in hand.”

The memory of those photos haunted you just as much as the fabricated narrative. What should have been a vulnerable, private moment had been twisted into public consumption, turned into something unrecognizable.

You quickly closed all the tabs, swiping them away, but your thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to text Joe.

"Call me?" you typed, only to delete it a second later.

He had a game tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. But the question wouldn’t leave you: Was he okay? Was he blaming himself for this, the way you knew he would?

You could picture him now, in the locker room, sitting on the wooden bench with his elbows on his knees, head bowed, running through every decision he’d made last night. Joe always carried things like this on his shoulders, even when it wasn’t his fault. He would blame himself for all the photos and the headlines and the comments. The way your privacy was slowly being stripped away.

You could almost hear his voice, laced with quiet self-critique: I shouldn’t have let this happen to you.

But it wasn’t just you. It was the both of you. And you knew that somewhere in the middle of his self-recrimination, he was probably wondering if you regretted last night — if you thought being with him wasn’t worth all of this.

With a sigh, you set the phone aside and leaned back into the pillows, exhaling a shaky breath. Everything with Joe had always felt so personal, something special between just the two of you. Now, right as things were finally falling into place, perfectly, like something out of a dream, it was all on display for everyone else to judge.

Your gaze drifted toward Joe’s jacket lying on the edge of your bed, the fabric still holding the faint scent of him — clean, warm, familiar. You closed your eyes, letting that comfort wrap around you like a protective shield.

Let them speculate. Let them write their stories.

Because at the end of the day, they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what it felt like to hear Joe confess everything he’d been holding back, his voice raw, his words slipping into your heart like they’d finally found the place they were always meant to be.

They didn’t know that this wasn’t just a headline for you. It wasn’t a scandal or some fleeting story.

It was real.

Let them talk.

Because when the noise faded, it would still be just you and Joe.

The Repercussions of Love

The sunlight streaming through your window had shifted, casting lazy Sunday afternoon shadows across your living room. You’d been texting Joe for most of the weekend, your usual conversations making it easy to forget — easy to pretend the world wasn’t watching.

Neither of you had brought up the new wave of photos and articles. You weren’t sure if it was an unspoken agreement to leave it alone or simply both of you not wanting to risk unsettling what had been building between you. Either way, it felt like the right choice.

But when your phone buzzed again, it wasn’t another text. It was Joe calling.

You answered on the second ring, his voice already lighting you up inside.

“Hey,” you greeted. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the zone or something right now?”

Joe’s laugh rang through, “talking to you is part of the zone.”

“Oh, so now I’m part of the pre-game ritual?” you teased, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“Obviously.”

You grinned, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Well, should I say something motivational? Or do you just want me to repeat random sports clichés until you feel inspired?”

He chuckled. “Let’s hear your best halftime speech.”

“Okay, ready?” You cleared your throat dramatically. “Gentlemen, you’ve got one chance. One opportunity. Don’t mess it up or—”

“Are you quoting Lose Yourself by Eminem right now?” Joe interrupted, his chuckle spilling like he couldn’t help himself.

"Don’t act like you’re above it. This is probably better than half the stuff on your pre-game playlist."

"Careful, that playlist is sacred."

"Yeah, sacred," you mocked. "To Bon Iver and whatever woodland creatures you’ve got singing backup. What’s next, a whale call remix?"

Joe laughed, “you’re never going to let that go, are you?"

"Absolutely not. The fact that you once tried to convince me that bird sounds help you win football games is too good."

"They do," he defended. "Bon Iver, nature, all of it — it’s part of the process."

"Sure. But if I hear even a hint of Eminem playing before today’s game, I’m calling you out."

"Fine," Joe said. "But only if you admit you’re rooting for me the whole time."

"Always," you replied, warmth settling into your chest.

"Next time I’ll swap Bon Iver for Eminem and see if that’s the secret sauce."

"Thank me when you win," you replied.

“Well, thanks, Coach. I feel unstoppable now.”

"Glad I could help," you said, resting your chin on your knee. "Anything good happen today, or was it just the usual pre-game chaos?"

Joe chuckled, the sound making you smile without even trying. "Depends on your definition of good. Marr tried stealing an extra smoothie and nearly took out an entire table in the process."

You held back a laugh, leaning into the cushions. "Let me guess, he made it look like it wasn’t his fault?"

"Of course. Said the table was unstable.”

"Did he at least get away with it?"

"Not exactly. He got caught but still managed to convince the kitchen staff into giving him another anyway."

"Smooth. You’ve got to admire the dedication."

"Or fear it," Joe joked. "One of these days, he’s going to bring down the whole cafeteria, and we’ll be the ones getting dragged for it."

"Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?" you teased.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on nothing important but feeling like it meant everything. Eventually, the inevitable moment arrived when you both started winding down, neither of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

“Well,” you said softly, “you’ve got a game to win, Burrow.”

“And you’ve got the best seat in the house to watch me,” he teased.

“Don’t trip running out of the tunnel,” you teased back.

“I’ll try not to.” He fell silent for a beat. “Thanks for this.”

“Always.”

You both paused for a second before your ears perked up at the sudden rowdiness on the other line.

“Okay. Bye, Joe.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

It should’ve ended there. The warmth in your chest spread faster than you could stop it, sending your thoughts into a flurry — scattering reason like leaves caught in the wind as the sound of his voice echoed, over and over, in your mind.

“Love you.”

The silence that followed was thick, pressing against your ears and drowning everything else out beneath the thunder of your pulse. Your hands trembled as you quickly ended the call, dropping your phone onto the couch like it had betrayed you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the panicked gasp as you collapsed back against the cushions. Heat flushed over you, spreading from your chest to your neck like you’d been doused in embarrassment.

What have you done?

You let out a silent scream, burying your face in a pillow.

You said it. You actually said it.

You groaned, rolling over and snatching your phone back. The screen lit up, Joe’s name still sitting at the top of your call log like a glowing reminder of your slip-up.

You couldn’t just leave it like that. You had to say something, didn’t you? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as a dozen terrible options flashed through your head.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to—

No. Delete. That made it sound worse.

Ignore that.

Delete. Too dismissive.

You bit your lip, exhaling shakily, and rubbed your forehead. Just say something normal. Casual. Act like you didn’t just spill your soul into the phone.

You tried again:

Just wanted to clarify—

Delete.

But before you could type anything else, a message popped up.

Joe: I know.

Your breath caught in your chest. The typing bubble appeared quickly again, and then his next message came through:

Joe: Love you too.

The Confrontation

The knock at the door startled you, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of the evening. You set your mug of tea down with a soft clink against the coffee table, your heart skipping a beat. You were already ready to head to bed, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

If anything, just waiting for a message from Joe. But, he was probably still tangled up in post-game obligations — press, interviews, team meetings. 

Then again, after everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if tonight might be a little different.

You stumbled when you opened the door.

Joe stood on your doorstep, his hair still damp from the shower, a hoodie clinging to his broad frame and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His smile was small, soft, the kind that sent your heart into a quiet free fall.

“Hi,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of his presence immediately filled the room, chasing away the quiet solitude that had settled there.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he teased lightly, holding out the bouquet. “Didn’t feel like sticking around for the press tonight.”

You blinked, taking the flowers and inhaling their sweet scent before setting them gently on the table next to the door. “You skipped press?”

He shrugged, a low chuckle escaping him. “Told them I had somewhere more important to be.”

The words shouldn’t have hit you as hard as they did, but they did.

“Come on,” you whispered, lacing your fingers together and pulling him toward the couch.

You both collapsed onto the cushions, Joe letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned back and stretched his legs out. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to sit down,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he opened them and found you already watching him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you this soon,” you spoke up.

“I couldn’t stay away."

“Congrats on the win,” you ignored his comment, your fingers absently toying with the edge of the throw pillow between you.

Joe smiled, that infamous, boyish grin making an appearance. “Thanks. Not exactly a nail-biter, though. It’s the Cardinals.”

You laughed. “Still, you played well.”

“Well... I had a great motivational speech before the game."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. The room fell quiet, Joe’s arm moved to rest along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder. You shifted closer, tucking yourself against him.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired,” he admitted, resting his chin on the top of your head. “But good.”

You stayed like that for a minute longer, his arm resting over your shoulders, its weight growing heavier as his body softened beside you. His breaths deepened, each exhale brushing against the top of your head.

“Come on,” you stood up, gently taking his hand in yours. His eyelids fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion, but he followed without hesitation.

He made no move to pull his hand away as you led him down the hallway into your dimly lit bedroom, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You walked to the corner of the room, fingers brushing the lamp switch as you dimmed the light. When you turned around, Joe had already pulled his hoodie off with a lazy tug, the fabric lying in a heap on the floor. He stretched out on the bed, one arm resting behind his head, his gaze soft and steady as he watched you.

Without a word, he held his other arm open, inviting you closer. You slipped under the covers, and his arm easily found its place around your waist, pulling you into him. His warmth enveloped you instantly, your head settling on his chest, where his heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your ear.

His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of your shirt before slipping just beneath it, resting gently in place without shifting. The touch was gentle, unfamiliar in its meaning but not in its comfort. New, yet welcomed all the same.

“I missed you,” he spoke, the words barely audible.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your fingers hesitating before sliding lightly across his chest, your touch mirroring his.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the room in muted gold, shadows swaying gently across the walls as a cool breeze slipped through the slightly cracked window.

His fingers began tracing lazy, mismatched shapes across your skin. The stillness between you felt unspoken, broken only by the rhythm of his breath aligning with yours.

“How long do you think we can avoid it?” you asked suddenly.

He didn’t answer right away, his hand stilling briefly before resuming its slow patterns against your side. “Avoid what?”

"Joe," you whispered, a soft plea woven into your voice.

He sighed, his arm flexing as he pulled you even closer, your legs brushing against his under the covers. “I thought we were doing pretty well pretending.”

“You’re terrible at pretending,” you teased as your fingers reached to graze along the line of his jaw.

Joe’s gaze flickered down to you, the teasing dropping away, leaving something heavier in its place. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I know.”

The room felt smaller and the air heavier as his fingers skimmed higher across your body. His other hand moved from behind his head to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin as he studied you with a look that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You didn’t ask me why I came straight here tonight,” Joe said, as if he was pulling the thought from somewhere deep within.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “I figured I didn’t need to.”

His lips parted slightly, “I couldn’t stay away,” he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. “I thought about waiting, about giving you space, but I didn’t want to.”

The honesty in his voice cracked something open in you. “I didn’t want you to wait either,” you admitted, your hand sliding further, nails gently trailing along the side of his neck

His gaze locked on yours, “I don’t think I can anymore.”

The weight of his words hit you like heavily, pulling you toward him before his lips even touched yours. When they did, it wasn’t soft or cautious, nothing like his actions have been over the past how many weeks. 

It was fierce, consuming, like he had been holding this back for too long. His hand slipped further under your shirt and along the curve of your torso.

You found it hard to not only focus on the way he was grasping for any part of you that he could hold onto, his touch igniting sparks that spread like wildfire.

Your fingers tightened along the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, deeper, like you needed more and couldn’t stop.

His lips parted against yours and the kiss turned feverish. The taste of him was intoxicating, dizzying. He pulled your body flush against his, as though even the smallest distance was unbearable.

When you finally drew your head back, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together as you struggled to find air. His breath ghosted over your lips like he wasn’t ready to fully part from you just yet. 

For a moment, the both of you stayed there — his one hand still cradling your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in lazy, soft strokes. The other gently resting on your hip. It was a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing between you.

Your hand slowly trailed upward, fingers threading gently through his hair before settling back against the side of his face.

His gaze flicked down to your lips and back up, like he was memorizing the way they swelled from the kiss. 

“Today felt different,” you whispered, your lips brushing softly against his with the faintest tremor, like you weren’t ready to pull away yet either.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, his lips grazing yours again, teasing and gentle, as though saying that this moment deserved to last a little longer. “It did,” he replied. 

His hand slipped to the back of your head, fingers tangling gently at the base of your neck. He tilted your face toward him, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you. “And it didn’t scare me.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that held a mix of relief and something deeper. “It didn’t scare me either.”

And that was all it took.

He kissed you again, this time with a slow, unhurried intensity that left no room for doubt. His lips moved against yours, patient but firm, pulling you under like the tide. His hand slid down from your head to join the other at the curve of your waist, fingers splaying wide against your skin as though he was trying to commit the feel of you to memory.

Every touch was electric, his hands mapping over the length of your body with a measured intent. He kissed you deeper, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine. 

His thumbs dropped down lower, grazing against your hip bones and making your stomach flutter. He knew exactly where to linger, exactly how to unravel you without a word.

There was something about the way he kissed you now — like the weight of everything unsaid had finally lifted, leaving only the need to be closer, to feel more.

By the time you pulled back again you were gasping for air, your lips tingling and your heart racing so fast you could feel it in your fingertips. His forehead rested against yours, and his hand traced soothing circles on your back. His breath brushed against your cheek as he smiled.

“Still not scared?” he asked, voice teasing but laced with meaning.

Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tracing the slight stubble there. “Not even a little.”

And the way he kisses you after that is even better than before.

[0omillo0]

angst to comfort

The fluorescent lights of the practice room buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floor. Han Jisung sat hunched over his laptop, headphones clamped tightly over his ears, his fingers furiously tapping against the keyboard as he tried to squeeze out the perfect verse. But the words weren’t coming.

They hadn’t been coming for hours.

Frustration built in his chest like a balloon about to burst. His mind replayed the same beat on a torturous loop, but no matter how many times he rewrote the lyrics, they sounded wrong. Offbeat. Flat. The pressure of deadlines, expectations from fans, and his own perfectionism felt like a vice around his heart.

The door creaked open softly behind him, but he barely registered it through the fog of his irritation.

You stepped into the room quietly, hoping not to disturb him. You’d noticed the signs—missed calls, one-word texts, and the dark circles deepening under his eyes. So you decided to surprise him with his favorite meal from the little street vendor he loved near your apartment. Maybe it wasn’t much, but you thought a little comfort could go a long way.

“Jisung?” you called out softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

That one word snapped the last thread of his patience.

“Wtf are you doing here?” he snapped, whipping around in his chair. His voice echoed sharply off the walls, harsher than he intended, but he was too wound up to pull it back.

You blinked, startled by his sudden outburst. “I—I brought you something to eat. I thought you might be hungry,” you said quietly, lifting the bag as if the sight of his favorite food would soften him.

But it didn’t.

“I don’t need food right now! And I don’t need you up my ass everytime!” he shouted, standing up abruptly. His chair scraped loudly against the floor. “I need to focus! Why can’t you just leave me alone for once?”

Your heart dropped. The warmth and excitement you’d felt on the way here evaporated, replaced by a cold ache in your chest. You stood frozen for a moment, then nodded silently, setting the bag down on the nearest table.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady. Without another word, you turned and walked out, your eyes stinging as you fought back tears. You didn’t want him to see you cry. Not after that.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Jisung alone in the suffocating silence.

For a moment, he felt justified. He needed to concentrate, and you had interrupted him. But as the echo of his own words settled in the room, guilt began to gnaw at his chest. His eyes drifted to the bag of food sitting untouched on the table. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks—you had just been trying to help. To care for him.

A quiet cough from the doorway snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Chan standing there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“What the hell was that, Jisung?” Chan’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made Jisung’s stomach twist.

“I just—she interrupted—I was trying to focus,” Jisung muttered defensively, but even to his own ears, the excuse sounded weak.

Chan raised an eyebrow. “She brought you food, man. Food. Because she cares about you. And you blew up on her like she was the problem?” He shook his head, disappointment clear in his eyes. “You need to fix this. Now.”

Jisung’s chest tightened painfully. The weight of what he’d done finally settled fully on his shoulders, and before he knew it, his knees buckled beneath him. He sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands as hot tears spilled over his cheeks.

“I messed up,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I messed up so bad.”

Chan crouched down beside him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Then go fix it before it’s too late.”

-

The sky had darkened by the time Jisung reached your apartment. The cool night air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. His mind was a whirlwind of regret and anxiety. What if you didn’t forgive him? What if this was the final straw?

His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he raised his hand to knock. For a moment, he hesitated, his knuckles hovering just inches from the door. But then he took a deep breath and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

It took a few moments, but eventually, the door creaked open.

You stood there, wrapped in one of his old hoodies, your eyes red and puffy from crying. The sight of you like that—hurt because of him—shattered whatever was left of Jisung’s fragile composure. His breath hitched, and tears welled up in his eyes again.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he’d caused you. But seeing him standing there, eyes swollen and full of regret, your heart softened against your better judgment.

Before you could say anything, he stepped forward, his voice breaking as he continued.

“I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I was just… I was so stressed, and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair. You were just trying to help, and I—I was an idiot. I don’t deserve you, but I’m begging you, please don’t hate me.”

His words tumbled out in a desperate rush, and when he finally stopped, the hallway fell into silence. You looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for sincerity. And it was there, plain as day—raw, aching regret.

Without a word, you stepped aside, opening the door wider. He let out a shaky breath of relief and stepped inside, kicking off his shoes as you closed the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, he turned and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a desperate, trembling hug. His face buried in your shoulder, and you felt his tears soaking into the fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, over and over, his voice muffled against your skin.

You stood still for a moment, letting his words sink in, before slowly wrapping your arms around him. The warmth of his body, the way he clung to you like you were his anchor—it melted the last remnants of your anger.

“I know,” you whispered softly, running your fingers through his hair. “But you can’t shut me out like that, Jisung. I’m here for you. Let me be here for you.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with tears. “I will. I promise. I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek. “But we need to talk when things get hard, okay?”

He nodded, sniffling as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw but full of sincerity.

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with warmth.

You led him to the couch, pulling him down beside you. He curled into your side like a lost puppy, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his face still buried in your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension slowly melt away from his body as his breathing evened out.

After a while, he shifted slightly, resting his head in your lap. His eyes were still red and puffy, but there was a softness in them now, a quiet vulnerability that made your heart ache. You traced gentle patterns along his temple, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed.

“You’re my safe place, you know that?” he murmured sleepily, his voice barely audible.

“And you’re mine,” you whispered back, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

As the night stretched on, you stayed there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the weight of the earlier argument fading into the background. His arms tightened around you in his sleep, and you smiled softly, knowing that no matter how hard things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Because love wasn’t perfect—it was messy and complicated and sometimes full of mistakes. But in the end, it was also forgiveness, understanding, and holding on even when things felt like they were falling apart.

And as you drifted off to sleep with Jisung’s steady breathing in your ear, you knew that you’d both be okay. Together.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon @hyunjiiza

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 6

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex. (sukuna x reader)

warnings: explicit sexual content, slight indications of dom sukuna, clit slapping (like once)

fanfic masterlist

Sukuna didn’t even give you a moment to straighten up before he pulled you into a searing kiss as he pressed the button for his floor. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” he mumbled against your lips. You mewled as his hands traveled down to your ass and squeezed it. Your body was on fire as you kissed him harder and let yourself explore all the new changes in his body. The therapeutic massages you’d been giving him only kept your touch chaste and professional, leaving you to simply gawk at his body's new corded muscles.

Now, you could finally explore him. “It feels just like back then,” Sukuna groaned as his kisses traveled down your chin to the column of your neck. A single hand traveled up to the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair so he could angle your head to give him no restraints with covering your neck with suckling kisses. The hand that was still on your ass pushed you closer to him, your body once again flat against his, breasts pressed against his hard pecs—center almost against center. 

Every kiss he left on your neck made you feel like he had branded you with his name. That you were once and always his, refreshing the marks he previously left on his territory. His to be forever owned and his to be forever loved. 

The small ding of the elevator pulled you both out of your little paradise, indicating that you had finally reached his apartment floor. Like before, you both tumbled into the place as a heated mess. Hands groping every part of the body they were touching, kisses wet and loud as they could be. 

Sukuna ripped his tuxedo jacket off you as he continued working his warm tongue around your mouth. He tightened his grip on your waist so he could navigate you toward his room. You gasped as he slammed the door close.

You both finally pulled away to get some air, and you swore you were soaked just by looking at the sight in front of you–lipstick stains all over Sukuna’s mouth, his silk bowtie long discarded (you weren't sure where, but most probably in one of the dusty corners of the elevator.) Your eyes finally landed on his to see him already staring at your face. 

Your hands became clammy after you realized his gaze was saying everything he wanted to do to you. The athlete was famished.

His eyes finally tore away from your face and landed on your shoulder–the lace strap of your dress now flimsily hanging down. One of his hands moved from your waist and latched on to the strap. His finger slowly ran itself under it. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and pulled your strap a little lower, testing the waters. His teeth nipped down your shoulders, taking your hand in his and lifting it so he could pepper his lips down its length.

“Sukuna this isn’t right. You’re my boss,” you sighed as he pulled you closer, hand still in his as he placed it on his cheek. He angled his lips to yours to be close enough so that they were just a hair’s breadth away. It was painfully obvious how badly he wanted you. You could feel it in the way he panted like a man starved of all sustenance. 

You looked away. You knew that the moment you’d stare a little too long into his eyes would mean losing all sense of your rationality. Sukuna would become a phantasmic entity that would haunt every crevice of your consciousness. 

“So? I don’t really see what’s wrong. People fuck their bosses all the time,” he selfishly reasoned, eyes still in a lovesick haze–you could tell even without looking at his face. 

Dizzying. Your head felt like a feather lazily blowing in the wind around him, especially when he’d act assertive. A man as crass as him wasn’t charming to most women; only appealing for his rugged appearance. But something in him drew you in, like magnets of opposite poles. The man behind the rogue facade was a fervent admirer.

“Yeah, but I’m not the type of person to do that. Plus I–”

“Aren’t you tired of denying yourself peace for so long? I know I am. And now that you’re in front of me, I sure as hell will not let it go unless you genuinely don’t want this–which I know you do. I know you want this as much as me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Sukuna interrupted you again. “Hell, I’m pretty sure I love you more than you love me, and you know what? I don’t care. I still want you. Now do you want me?”

You could hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you licked your lips, prepping yourself, but it was all in vain when Sukuna swiftly turned your cheek so you could face him. “Look me in the eye and say it. And I won’t believe you if you just nod.”

Your mind tried to reason with you to the best of its abilities, trying to console you, tell you why fucking your ex-slash-boss was wrong. But the look in Sukuna’s eyes said that any protest was futile. You both were too far gone–falling down the bottomless pit together. Lust, love, and adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried not to think about how his entire hand almost easily covered half your face.

Your hand was still on Sukuna’s cheek. Your thumb traces the outline of his tattoos and he inhales deeply, relishing the feeling of the soft pad of your finger. “I could never not want you,” you whispered. His breath shook as he exhaled, and before you knew it, his hand slid down to your thighs and he carried you to his bed bridal style. 

He laid you down with the kind of delicacy that would make one think he was holding a porcelain doll.

“Do you know how often I think about you?” he asked as he leaned down to cover your mouth with his own, tongue licking yours. “How often I think about your beautiful body under mine.” His hands begin roaming around your body, groping any and every softness they could find. You whine as his blunt fingers dig into your hips through your dress.

His hands snake under your back to unzip your dress and he mumbles a small ‘up,’ as he pats your hip. Heat blooms in your cheeks when you see the flex in his jaw when your clothed chest momentarily touches his as he pulls down your zipper. He peels off the straps like they’re a nuisance to humanity and before you know it, your dress is thrown in a random corner of his room, leaving you bare and bothered underneath him.

He’s quick to lean over you, thick thighs straddling your own as his head dips down to kiss between your clavicles. You gasp as he nips his way down your sternum. His wet kisses burned the skin around your nipple until he finally took it in his mouth. Your legs crossed themselves, trying to find some relief for your wet core until Sukuna firmly grasped your knee and pulled them apart. 

His mouth left your chest with a wet pop and he pressed his lips against yours. “That’s my job,” he mumbled against the corner of your lip. “Wrap your legs around me.” You do as he says, and he groans when your core slots itself right against his hardness. “So perfect. And all for me.” 

All logical thoughts fizzle out in your mind when you see his calloused hand basically covering your whole breast, squeezing and undulating it in his hand. As cliche as it sounded, it felt like electricity was coursing through your veins with each kiss, suck, pull, and mark. 

His kisses were getting messier as they trailed to the waistband of your panties. Wet splotches of saliva on your dewy skin. He groaned as he came face to face with the damp patch on your gusset. He ran a knuckle on your clothed slit. You hissed, toes flexing in anticipation. 

With one swift movement, he cradled your thighs around his neck, holding them in place. “I missed your perfect pussy so much” he groaned as he kissed your slit. “Always so wet for me.” Another kiss, but with a small lick at the end. 

Your hands planted themselves in his messy, gelled hair. “Quit teasing.” 

The athlete smirked as he ran his finger under the waistband of your underwear. “It’s been two years, let me have my fill,” he said as he drew small circles on your thigh. “You’re acting like you didn’t think of me at all.” You could him smirk as he pulled your panties down with his teeth. He placed himself back between your thighs and spread your lips. A deep guttural sound escaped him when he saw your clit glisten under the moonlight through his window.

“Now tell me, did you think about me while touching yourself?”

You didn’t say anything, too embarrassed to admit your perverted thoughts about him, despite, him knowing everything about your body. He slapped your clit and you let out a lewd yowl. “Tell me.” His tone was dark and menacing, terrifying yet arousing. 

“Yes, only you.” 

He soothed your aching clit with long, flat tongue, lapping up your syrupy wetness. You could feel the vibrations of his moan in your pussy when your fingers pulled his hair a little tighter–the only way you could ground yourself to the earth. Especially with how he was eating you out like it was his first drink of water after being parched for days. 

His tongue rolled around your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of your spasming hole. The balls of your feet dig into the muscles of his back and he doesn’t even complain, enjoying the pain and soreness that comes with your squirming. 

“Sukuna, I’m about to–hah–come,” Your tongue felt loose, like it would flail every time you’d try to ask him to back off a little, give you space to breathe, but the build up of the churning knot in your core stopped you. Body betraying mind.

Sukuna ripped away from you before you could come, and you whined, pulling him back to your glistening cunt, but he harshly pulled your wrists away. He gets off the bed and he starts to strip. Your mind quiets down at the realization of what’s about to happen. 

His half hard cock is russet and angry as he pulls down his boxers, tip already shining with precome. He looks at your slovenly state and chuckles. No words are exchanhged between the two of you as he crawls back on top you. You can feel every inch of his searing hot skin as he’s face to face with you again. 

His large paw grabs your hand and drags it to his bare cock, making you palm him. “You feel this? It’s because of you,” he groaned out. He shoves his nose in your neck and inhales deeply as he begins to guide your small hand up and down his length. “You smell so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles. Your mind splinters when you realize that you’d been wearing his jacket for most of the night.

When his dick finally hardens up, he removes your hand and lines himself up with your entrance, tip kissing the velvety skin there. “Before I fuck you, I want you to be a good girl and say something for me. Can you do that?”

You nod feverishly. He grips your throat and lightly presses his thumb at your pulse, enjoying the feeling of it thundering under his hand. “Use your words, baby.”

You choke out a meek ‘yes’ and he kisses you hard. His lips stay on yours even after pulling away, moving against them with every word he speaks. “Every time I push my cock in you, I want you to say that you’re my girl and that you love me, okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper. He gives you a sweet peck for being so obedient.

You inhale deeply, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You’ve had sex with Sukuna before, but nothing like this. He usually didn’t take the reigns all too much unless he was extremely frustrated. Even then, his possessive nature didn’t take its course when he was claiming you with his cock.

Now it felt like he was going to mold your cunt to only fit him. 

“I’m your girl,” you embarrassingly cried out as he stretched your hole. He frowned as his breathing got quicker, leaning back down over you. “Put your arms around my neck,” he orders as he starts leaving sloppy kisses on the column of your neck. 

“I love you,” you whimper into his ears and he growls, thrusting even harder, making the walls of your cunt pulse around his warm length. “Fuck–yeah, you’re my girl. Only mine.” 

Your body shakes uncontrollably as he slots his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as his teeth clash against yours. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Always so wet and needy for me and my cock,” he pants.

You can feel the deep rumble of pleasure in his chest when you rake your nails down his back. You were sure it was going to leave a mark, but you couldn’t be bothered to worry about that. Not when he had you stretched so deliciously around his cock. 

“I–shit–I love you,” your fingers went back into his hair, now greased with hair gel and sweat. His mouth moved down to your chest and he bit the fat of your breast, leaving a lovely red mark behind. The pit of your core burned as the sound of his skin slapping against yours quickened. “I think I’m about to come,” you gasped out, all air leaving your lungs with each passing second.

Sukuna sloppily kissed your mouth as he mumbled ‘me too.’ You felt his fingers tighten around your thighs, leaving half-moon shaped indents on your soft, dewy skin. “I love you so much,” he professed as he spilled into your cunt. Fat droplets of tears slid down the sides of your face as you felt his seed coat your insides and drip out in excess. His cock slowly softened inside you as he slowed down.

His eyes finally met yours and he kissed you in a post-orgasm haze. “You complete me,” he said with a lazy smile before wrapping his arms around your waist and passing out on top of you. Cock still wet and limp in your cunt.

—

taglist: @7haze @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife @missthatgirl @iluv-ace @emoedgylord @miakxn @sunasgf1 @lolilewenk @clp-84 @sodapop182 @therealjustpeachesback @msanimeotaku181 @aerareads @rebels-rewrite @emochosoluvr

[literarystarfish]

“W-who are you?” The blindfold heightened Whumpee’s every other sense. Their own voice sounded too loud in their ears.

Not even the sharp metallic taste of blood in their mouth or the strain in their arms that were tied painfully tight behind them or the rough gravel digging into their knees where they had been forced to kneel could distract them from the sound of their captor.

Their shoes clacking against the ground in a slow, predatory circle the only thing they could focus on. The sounds echoed off the walls making it harder to focus on where the person was as they circled them like a predator.

Were they sat in the middle of a garage? A warehouse? It seemed like some kind of large, empty room. They hated that they could feel nothing around them but the cold draft sending shivers up their spine.

It was hard to tell how close or how far away their kidnapper was.

“You don’t remember me?” Whumpee froze.

Close. Their attacker was close. Too close. They hadn’t realized the sound of their footsteps were getting closer. The echoes and the blindfold cinched over their eyes and ears made it too difficult to pinpoint.

They stood right behind them. Their voice low in a terrifying whisper. “I’m a little saddened by that, Whumpee. How could you forget me?”

“Whumper…” they breathed in disbelief.

Whumper chuckled, sending a different kind of shiver through them. They tsked in that easy, teasing way they did when Whumpee had really pissed them off. Like they were hiding their real anger behind their calm. That was always when Whumper was most terrifying. If they were calm.

“After everything we’ve been through, you just forgot me? We’ve spent so much time together in the past. Hours and hours. You always seemed to love when I visited. You were always begging for more. Or… were you begging me to stop? You know, after a while it was hard to understand what you were saying at all. You always did have to work on your mumbling. Got you in quite a bit of trouble before.”

The easy threat sounded like death to Whumpee’s ears.

Perhaps they already were dead.

After all, Whumper was dead. Caretaker killed them when they had rescued them. Whumpee saw them die. Whumper can’t be here. They can’t have captured them again. Dragged them off to who knows where.

Maybe Whumpee had died in that attack on the street. It hadn’t been a blindfold over their eyes taking their sight before their vision had gone completely black. No, it was death taking them.

And they’ve met Whumper in hell.

It had to be.

Because…

Because…

“You-you’re supposed to be dead..”

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy to get rid of me, did you?”

“C-caretaker killed you! I-I saw you!”

“They managed to get a good hit, I must admit. Much better than a weakling like them had any business getting on someone like me. They had taken me off guard, though. But it was very… satisfying… to return the favor.”

Caretaker’s face flashed through their mind. Scrunched with anger and desperation and terror.

Beaten.

Bloody.

Being pulled away from them, kicking and screaming as two masked people jumped them. A third attacker getting a nasty hit on Whumpee, rattling their world as their arms were wrenched behind them and a blindfold covered their eyes.

Caretaker had been with them when Whumper had kidnapped them. Caretaker had been attacked too.

“NO! Caretaker! What did you do to them?!”

“My, my. You’ve certainly gotten bold in your time away from me. I don’t remember you being so… loud.”

“What. Did. You. Do to them?!” They ground out between clenched teeth.

“Pity. We’ll have to do something about that unruly behavior again,” Whumper sounded less than impressed. Their non-answer only spiked Whumpee’s anger more.

“WHERE ARE THEY!? What have you DONE to them?!” Their uncharacteristically strong voice echoed off the walls. Even being back in Caretaker’s hands for a while now, they had not felt this willful in years. Not since Whumper kidnapped them the first time.

“Nothing they can’t survive, I’m sure.” Whumpee could hear the scoff in Whumper’s voice. “Stubborn, that one. A real thorn in my side. I couldn’t really kill them though, as much as I’d have liked to. I simply incapacitated them for a while.”

Whumpee bristled despite their fear. Their voice dropped menacingly as they growled “Where are they?”

“Oh, that’s the good part! I had my guys take them back with them. I’m sure they’re keeping them safe.” Whumpee’s heart squeezed when they remembered Whumper’s two right-hand men. Ruthless and strong. And incredibly loyal to Whumper. Whumpee has plenty of scars to remind them of those two. ‘Safe’ was a relative term with them.

“I wanted some time alone with you. See how you’ve been since Caretaker took you from me.” Whumper gave a dramatic sigh. “I see they’ve taught you disobedience. I suppose I’ll have to beat it out of them too.”

“Don’t. Touch. Them.”

“No, no. That would ruin my plans. If I remember correctly, threatening them was a great way to keep you in line. Only now I don’t have to lie that I have them under my control in order to get what I want. In fact, I’m sure you’ll have front row seats to hear their screams if they’re in the cell next to you.”

“No! Don’t hurt them! You wanted me! You have me! Leave them alone!”

“Ohhh, now,” Whumper tsked again. “That wouldn’t be any fun. I think it’ll be quite interesting to see who I can get to break first. Especially if it’s to ‘protect the other’. What do you think, Whumpee?” Whumper chuckled, their voice light. Teasing. “What would you do to stop their screams? Hmm? What would Caretaker do to stop yours? Who will succumb to the pain first? Crying and screaming and begging? Who will be able to withstand it longer?”

Whumpee tried to pull away from the rough grip on their chin as their head was forced to look up at where they imagined Whumper’s angry, fiery eyes were glaring down at them but it didn’t budge. They could feel Whumper’s hot breath on their neck as they leaned closer to their ear, sending Whumpee’s back ramrod straight at the proximity.

Whumpee hated to admit it, but Whumper’s presence terrified them to their core. They kneeled on the hard, painful floor frozen except for their quick, sharp gasps of air. Vulnerable. Scared.

“My bet is on them.”

[time-woods]

This small interaction in episode 2 will not leave my brain I need to dissect it and ramble or else I’ll pop

Frame of reference: this is where Aziraphale tells Crowley what drink he wants,

so he gets his attention while trying to spot somewhere to sit obviously not thinking to much of it (he also only turns twice in this moment to look at Crowley, having his main focus being on the seating- thats just Aziraphale for you though) but the way that Crowley looks back at him just makes him seem taken aback by the small gesture of physical touch. Not in a negative way, he doesn’t say anything and kinda just lingers for a moment looking and Aziraphale before getting their drinks. I don’t know how to explain it but this small moment along with details in body language from the whole series just makes these characters so fun to watch, even in the small things they can be so devastatingly human despite their denial,

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ adore me, mark your territory !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. ( fem!reader )

pairing kenyu yukimiya x reader word count 3.6k content contains corruption kink/innocence kink, loss of virginity (both you and yukki), first time, creampie, breeding kink, slightly manipulative!yukki, you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, dark(ish) content kinktober masterlist

To love someone is to know them. 

You love Kenyu Yukimiya with all your heart; you know his hopes and his dreams, his fears and the tiny voice in his head that serves to either goad or encourage him. The two of you grew up together, attending all the same Catholic private schools up ‘til he went pro fresh out of high school graduation, and you decided to attend a tiny, private all girls university. 

You know that he’s kind and funny, much more outgoing and adventurous than you. You know that he can be gentle, and that he chooses to always be gentle with you. You know that he loves you just as much as you love him. 

But while distance makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps it’s the distance that has caused this newfound unfamiliarity between the two of you.

“Kenny, I don’t… I don’t understand.” You’re lying down on your painfully small twin-sized mattress in your dorm room. Kenyu’s on top of you, his body hovering over your own. He gives you that familiar, comforting smile of his as he asks you gently (your Kenyu’s always so gentle with you), 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Of course we do.” You say softly. Your arms are by your side, and you’re playing with the frills on the oversized comforter of your bed. Your whole entire room still screams girl. Yukimiya finds it endearing; he finds everything about you so damn endearing. Your floral quilts, and the stuffed animals he’s won for you from claw machines and unfairly rigged carnival games. Your fluffy comforter, and the way you always love to wear dresses, even when it’s just to attend a lecture. 

And your unwavering innocence. 

Everyone knows that Catholic private schools aren’t as pristine as the parents of the students like to claim it is, but you’re the only one who remained devout. The only one who genuinely stayed true to the lessons taught. You didn’t drink, you didn’t smoke, you didn’t sneak out. The only parties you attended were birthday parties chaperoned by a trusted adult and held in the early afternoon. You always followed the dress code and never tried to get away with folding the waistband of your school-issued skirt to make it shorter, like some of the other girls did. Hell, Kenyu had to literally ask your father for permission to date you before he asked you out. 

And while Kenyu’s always been on his best behavior, it’s not like he’s unaware of the world. He’s not naive like you. And that’s okay. One of you has to know enough to lead the other; Yukimiya’s more than happy that he’s the one taking on that role. 

The thing is, Kenyu truly does love you. It’s why he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to force you to go further than what you think you’re capable of, than what you think you’re allowed to go. He ignores the hard on he gets every time you two make out, the way your hips sometimes move on their own, grinding against him with no thought to strip out of your clothes and let him finish. You’ve been together since the first year of high school, and now you’re in college, and he’s playing professional soccer, and he loves you, and he still hasn’t even seen your pussy. Honestly, his closest friends tell him he must be a saint. 

But the talks in the locker room, the snide comments from his least favorite teammates, the jokes and the teasing and the mocking, condescending tones — gotta protect Yukki’s ears, can’t let him Mr. Private School hear this, as if he’d even know what we’re talking about; damn virgin — all of it is chipping away at his pacifist, mild-mannered demeanor, revealing the feral, greedy egoist that lies underneath. 

You had been so excited to hear your beloved boyfriend was flying down to your college town this weekend, just to see you! Your roommate’s out on a holiday with her parents, leaving the dorm room all to yourselves. In your cute mind, this just means more room for the two of you to hang out.

For Yukimiya, it means he has no more obstacles to get in the way of him fucking you for the first time. 

“And you know what two people who love each other do, right?” He’s still using the same pacifying, soothing tone he always uses when he’s trying to calm you down. When you skinned your knees and cried from the sting of the alcohol wipes used to clean the cuts, he had used this voice on you. When you cried at the airport because he was leaving the country to meet the team who paid an exorbitant amount to have him on their starting lineup, he had used this voice on you. Right now, you can’t understand why he’s using this voice on you. You’re not hurt; just confused. 

“Kenyu, wh-what are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about making love, [Name].” One large palm is rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. The movement causes the thin fabric of your sundress to rise up. Yukimiya’s never touched you down there before. You don’t know why his touch feels so good, but you do understand what he’s talking about now. 

“But Kenny—” Your voice is reduced to nothing more than a nervous whisper, almost as if you’re scared someone is listening in. “—we can’t. That’s for married couples.” 

Well, if it’s any consolation, Yukimiya’s always planned on marrying you. 

He kisses your forehead, his hand never relenting from its position on your thigh. Your dress remains lifted up at an angle on one side. He can see part of your cotton panties; plain and white. If he moves his fingers up a few more centimeters, he could tug at the waistband of them. 

“I know, sweetheart. But I’ve been thinking…” His hand travels from up your thigh to rest on your hip. The one side of your dress is now all the way up, and his thumb rests on the thin waistband of your panties, rubbing reassuring circles to get you to remain calm underneath him. “We’ll get married soon, anyway, right? I love you so much that I need an outlet to show you just how much I love you.” 

“Married? Soon?” Your eyes widen. You find yourself daydreaming about marrying Yukimiya, starting a family. Yukimiya’s smile stretches wide across his handsome face. His sweet girl, he knew you’d be putty in his hands after he mentioned that. 

“Of course.” He kisses you on your lips sweetly, his hand never leaving your hip. “And I want to give you all the love a husband has for his wife. Won’t you let me, [Name]?” 

Kenyu’s always been handsome. You have a collection of all his professional photoshoots, and you know that he has a bunch of fangirls from just his looks alone. It’s so unfair of him, really, to give you that imploring look of his. You can’t say no to Yukimiya, and you think you never want to.

And so you do let him. 

Kenyu’s quick. With the speed he normally reserves for on the field, Kenyu’s mouth meets your at the same time his other hand grips your neglected hip. Now both of his hands are bunching up the fabric of your dress, pulling the skirt up to reveal your simple, plain panties. 

“Mmph.” You moan into the kiss. This is a bit different than what you two normally engage in; somehow, everything feels a lot heavier, headier. You can’t seem to think straight. All you can focus on is chasing after his lips, matching his hungry pace. 

The heat radiating off the two of you is enough for Kenyu to separate from you momentarily. The lens of his glasses are fogged up, and he grins at you, satisfied at the progress you’re making, before taking his glasses off and setting them neatly on your nightstand. 

And then he’s back to kissing you passionately again. You’re lost in the pleasure of his kisses, unknowingly bucking your hips up, not knowing why your body is craving friction, for some attention, down there. Your hands reach up to grip the front of Kenyu’s shirt, tugging at him, trying to bring him closer. You’re getting desperate, and he finds it so cute. 

“Lift your arms up for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your lips, and your head’s too hazy for you to properly register his request. He repeats it, still as gentle as ever with you, and this time, you manage to comply. 

“Fuck.” You don’t hear Kenyu curse often; he says it’s impolite to do so in front of his girl. He breathes out the word, and you feel shy all of a sudden as his eyes roam over your body. He tossed your dress to the side unceremoniously, and because the dress itself had padding, you decided not to wear a bra. You’re laying on your bed, nothing to protect your modesty besides your cotton panties. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. The only girl I see.” He praises you, and you don’t feel too shy anymore. 

“K-Kenyu—” You look up at him, all doe-eyed and sweet. You’re pressing your thighs together, drawing his attention to the plush of your thighs, the way hiding in between your legs is your special place that only Kenyu will be allowed to see, to touch, to taste, to love. “What do we do now?” 

He leans down, whispering in your ear in his familiar, kind voice, “Now, you lay down, and let me show you how much I love you.” 

You love Kenyu so much, you think it should be impossible for your heart to have so much room for him. You know Kenyu must feel the same way, but never before has his love for you ever felt so overwhelming. Kenyu pries your thighs apart, forcing you to open your legs for him, but you didn’t know showering you in his love meant that he was going to take his fingers and rub against the mound in your underwear. 

“W-wait, Kenny!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs, but he’s too big, too strong. He blocks the movement, keeps you nice and spread for him. “I—” You don’t know what to tell him, and you don’t know how to explain why there’s a tiny puddle gathering in the thin fabric of your panties. Sometimes, you feel funny and this starts to happen, usually after a long makeout session with your boyfriend. 

“You’re so wet for me, [Name].” He almost sounds in awe, staring down at your covered pussy almost as if in a trance. The pace he’s using is rather slow; he’s content, for now, with just stroking his fingers up and down your covered slit, fascinated with the way he can watch you slowly drench through the cotton. The wet spot only continues to grow; he bets he can get his fingers damp with your arousal soon, and he wouldn’t even have to take your panties off to do so. “Do you always get this wet for me?” 

You want to cry, and you can even feel the tears welling up in your eyes. He looks up, instantly stopping his ministrations, his concern written all over his expression. “Hey, hey.” He shushes you, peppering kisses all over your face. He’s not stroking you anymore, but his large hand is cupping your pussy, the heat of his hand encasing your special place. You’re practically throbbing against him, your cunt aching and hungry for his touch. He just has to get you to open up for him, to understand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re supposed to get wet right here for me, you know that?” 

You sniffle, unsure if he’s just placating you. “Really?”

“Really.” His smile is so gentle, his tone so soothing and reassuring. He’s back to grazing his knuckles across your cunt, enjoying the way the fabric keeps on getting damper. “It means your body is happy, and it lets me know that you love me as much as I love you.” 

His other starts to tug at your waistband, dragging down your panties until he’s pulling them right off. His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and stares at your pussy for the first time. Your folds are glistening, your little clit peeking out at him, begging for him to suck on, to rub against. 

“Cute.” He tells you, tracing a finger curiously against your slit, the tip of his index finger so close to entering your clenching, unbreached hole. “I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay, [Name]? Tell me, have you ever played with yourself down here?” 

“Wha-?” You’re confused, appropriately so. The boys and girls were separated during sex education, but you remember your teacher drilling it into your heads that under no circumstances should a young girl ever touch herself. You had been confused at the time, confused as to why anyone would ever. You’ve been taught that only your husband should ever touch you right there. But Yukimiya loves you, and he’s going to be your husband, and now you’re starting to think you know why girls may want to touch themselves. You’ve felt this heat in between your thighs before, this mysterious hunger for something, but now you’re feeling it tenfold. You shake your head, too choked up to speak. 

“No? Not even like this?” You don’t expect Kenyu to insert his finger. The intrusion is foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. Your walls instinctively clench around his digit, and he has to remind himself to breathe, to remain collected, to take things slow so you can enjoy yourself properly. “You’re clamping down on just one finger.” He breathes out, curling his finger, moving it against your walls. He brushes against a spongy spot inside of you, one that has you jerking up, a shocked, pleasured moan escaping from your parted lips. “That feel good?” He asks, before adding a second finger, both of them bumping against that same sweet spot. 

Your legs feel like jelly, and you nod weakly. It does feel good. Too good. So overwhelmingly good that a foreign, euphoric sensation is taking over you. You can’t seem to control your body, and you can’t stop the flow of cute, pleasured mewls flowing from your mouth, and you manage to scream out a warning to Yuki. “S-something is—” 

A clear stream of liquid spurts out of you, splashes onto him, soaks your cute comforter. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Your walls are too sensitive now, but throughout the whole process, Yukimiya never stops thrusting his fingers in and out of your inexperienced cunt. His eyes are wide, but the gleam in them is sharp, hungry, calculating. “I didn’t even get a chance to mess with your cute little clit. You came just from penetration?” He finally removes his fingers, examining the way your juices are dripping off his digits. “You didn’t just cum, you squirted.”

You turn your head, trying to bury your face in a pillow so he can’t see the embarrassed and debauched expression on your face, but he takes his dry hand and forces you to continue looking up at him.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart.” He coos, sucking at his fingers obscenely before releasing them from his mouth with a pop!. “It means you’re perfect and all ready for me.” 

Kenyu knows that his cock is the first cock you’ve ever seen, and he’ll make damn certain that it’s the only one you’ll be seeing for the rest of your life. There’s no frame of reference for you to use, but you don’t think that men should be so big. When he frees his dick, making a show of squeezing tightly at the base and pumping it, showing off to you, you swallow hard. 

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen, needy clit, teasing the both of you. He’s losing all sense of restraint, and even rubbing the underside of his cock against your glistening folds, trying to slick up his cock so it’ll be easier to glide into your soaked cunt, is enough to make him want to cum. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained, the gentle tone hanging on by a thread. “We’ll be making love for the first time. Aren’t you excited?” 

You nod. Excited and nervous. His cock much larger than his fingers, and maybe he should have prepped you more, but you came so easily. He always knew you were perfect for him. Pleasure is so unknown to you, the tiniest taste of it is enough to take you out. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He holds your hand and kisses you to distract you from the sting of his cock breaching your virgin cunt. You gasp into the kiss, pain registering in your mind first, but Yukimiya is quick to take your breath away, to swallow up any potential protests that might have come. He keeps on kissing you, his fingers intertwined with your own, and he’s pushing himself as deep as he can go. He only lets up from the kiss the second he’s buried to the hilt, and you greedily swallow up the oxygen you’ve been deprived of. 

The feeling of a hard cock inside of you is foreign, but your body clings to his length. Unlike his fingers, with its dexterous ministrations that had you keening and squirting when he brushed them against a special spot, his cock fills you up, stuffs you full. Your cunt is greedily sucking him in, and when he whispers that he’s going to really start moving now, it’s not just one spot that he’s hitting.

You’re not sure what’s happening to your body, but it feels like Yukimiya is wringing out pleasure from you from every angle inside of you. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good for me, sweetheart. Such a tight pussy, so wet, so warm.” The heat encasing his cock is nothing like he’s ever experienced before. The wet warmth of your pussy is so inviting, so intensely pleasurable, that Kenyu doesn’t think he’ll be able to last. Cumming so soon might be embarrassing, but it’s not. Not when it’s his sweet girl’s pussy that’s begging for his cum. 

You wail out his name, your legs reflexively encircling around his waist, locking him in, keeping him close to you as you cum again. This orgasm is practically ripped out from you, your cunt way too sensitive, the repeated battering of his cock drilling into your hole too much for your inexperienced mind and body to handle. 

“Kenyu, Kenyu, Kenyu!” When you say his name like that, it makes it hard for him to not immediately bust a load inside of you. Gone is the gentle expression from your boyfriend’s face; in its place is something feral, dark. 

When he pulls out, he sees your white cream coating his cock. When he thrusts back in, he hears the lewd squelch of your wet, overstuffed pussy. It’s enough to drive a man insane with lust.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grunts out, and your head struggles to remain straight, to not loll to the side and let yourself be used. You look up at him, but your eyes are glassy and your mind seems to be in a far away place, so far gone, so fucked out. “We’re going to get married soon. So it’s okay if I get you pregnant right now, right?” His bare cock fucking your virgin pussy raw. He’s going crazy. “I’m gonna fill you up, get you all nice and bred for me. Make you my wife, make you a mommy.” 

The domestic daydream makes you tighten up around him, even though your body is too weak to cum again. That’s alright. He’ll just have to cum enough for the both of you. 

“Hang onto me, sweetheart.” And you do. Your legs are still wrapped around him, but you weakly raise your arms, holding him close to you. He starts pounding at your pussy, his unrivaled speed and strength turning you into mush. You have to dig your nails into the muscled skin of his back, feeling like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to crash. 

“Fuck, I’m about to put a baby in you, love. My sweet girl, my sweet wife.” He kisses you, messy and sloppy, and he stills. The aggressive thrusts stop, and you realize why. 

There’s a new heat entering inside of you; hot spurts of his cum are pouring into you, and he only moves his hips a bit to plug you up further, to make sure none of his seed can trickle out of you. 

You’re about to lose consciousness, your brain fried from pleasure and exhaustion. All you do is weakly mumble out his name before the world goes black.

You think if this is what making love is, you love love.

“Holy shit, Yukki.” Isagi gapes at his shirtless teammate. 

Yukimiya glances up, about to pull his jersey over his head. “What?” 

“What the hell happened to you?” 

“Hm?” He asks, before turning to try to examine his back. Across the pale muscles are thin, red scratches, fading slightly from the time it’s been etched onto his skin by your nails. He smiles serenely, his mild-mannered attitude ever present. “Oh, this? My fiancee likes me close to her at all times.” 

[peoniesnro]

Perfect Partner | Sequel 1

Synopsis - You wake up in an unfamiliar apartment, next to your so-called AI boyfreind Jeongguk, only to realize you're trapped.

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance

Warnings- Since you all told me that I can totally tag this under yandere, I'm going to do that. (Kidnapping/ Obsessive Love/ Jeon is delusional (He's a psychopath)/ Jeon is a sweet asshole/ Possesiveness/ Betrayal/ Infidelity/ Soft manipulation/ Toxic behaviours/ Reader is broken.) No smut for this part but it's going to be there in the future.

Word count- 9K

a/n- My initial plan was to write just a part two, but it ended up being too long. So, I decided to break it into a few chapters. This is the first sequel, and I'll write a prequel next to give you insight into what happened in the past. After that, I'll release another sequel to continue the story from here. (Hope you won't mind) And thank you sososossoooooo much for the love you've shown for Perfect Partner. (I love you all ❤️)

DON'T BLAME ME

This is the sequel, read the first part here -

Perfect Partner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stir awake slowly. Eyes remaining closed as your senses begin to return. And the first thing you become aware of is the way your head pounds violently. It throbs as though your skull might split open. A soft whimper escapes your lips. 

Why are you in so much pain? 

What the hell happened that you’re feeling such a severe headache? 

You scrunch your face in a futile attempt to ease the pain. Another soft groan escapes you. And you make the grave mistake of opening your eyes. You open your eyes slowly and sensually. Feeling how heavy your eyelids are. But a sharp pain shoots across your head the moment a faint white light reaches your vision. This time as if a spear impaled your skull. Right between your eyes. That’s where the pain starts and shortly after your entire head is in an unbearable agony. 

You whimper loudly before closing your eyes back. Mentally cursing yourself for trying to open them in the first place. Try to turn into your side in hope the pain would subside when a sudden voice reaches you. Making you freeze. 

“Oh, you’re awake?” 

A voice that is deep and baritone. Groggy and husky. Soothing and warm. Then you feel some movements. It all happens fast. The voice and the feeling of the mattress dipping next to you. You shoot your eyes open disregarding the pain. It’s a reflex. A strange sensation washes over you. A fear. Fear that’s so intense it numbs you. You don’t try to move or turn your head. Or you don’t get a chance to do so. Just as you open your eyes back, you’re met with someone. Blurry. Hazy. 

“How are you feeling pretty?” 

Pretty?

Your sight finally clears. Your eyes zero on a face. 

Pretty………….

Hi pretty!

A voice rings in your head. Repeatedly. One word. 

Pretty. 

Fragments of memories start to flash in front of your eyes. Voices. Images. A man. An AI. Perfect Partner. Gifts. Hoseok. Fear. You can practically feel the same fear. Terror. Daebi’s birthday. Your apartment. Your phone- destroyed. A fight with a stupid AI character. 

Stupid AI character!

Jeongguk. A sharp yet shaky breath lodges inside your lung, painfully. Jeongguk. Your perfect partner. An AI character who you’ve been so smitten over until you weren’t. Jeongguk. A perfectly coded program that knew exactly how to make you feel good. Jeongguk. That godly man with a tattooed hand and piercings. 

Jeongguk….

Jeongguk…

Jeongguk…

Tattoos.

Piercings.

You blink at the brown eyes peering at you. A thin layer of sweat coats your entire body. The familiar yet excruciating fear engulfing you whole. Your eyes naturally wander over the strange face that keeps staring at you with wide eyes, faster than lightning. Brown eyes. Chiseled nose. Pink lips. 

A Lip ring.

Your breath hitches in a bad way. You look back at his eyes. Eyebrows. One brow is pierced. 

Piercings.

Jeongguk.

It’s ridiculous how your brain takes that much time to realize everything. To recover everything. To identify the person in front of your eyes who’s so close to you that you can feel his breath. Like a sudden slap everything registers inside your mind. And when it does, a loud alarm goes on inside your brain. Your sight turns blurry again as the terror makes your breath catch in your throat. Still you manage to let out a tangled scream as your flight or fight reflexes finally activate. You try to sit abruptly as a flash, hands coming to push away the person who is hovering over you. You really don’t have a plan. All you know is the urge to run away. Get away from this person who couldn’t be here in theory. He’s supposed to be a programmed character. 

Yet he is here. And all you can do is try your best to run away. That’s your plan, which quickly turns into a failure when you’re pushed back into the bed before you could even sit back properly. 

“Don’t- don’t move so fast.” His voice reaches to you as if it's coming from a distance. “You’ll get sick if you-” You try your utmost best. You thrash in his hold. Twisting your hands. Kicking your legs. “- Fucking stay still (___), you’ll worsen your headache.” He pins you down into the mattress. Gets on top of you in one quick movement. Holds your both wrists pinned above your head. His legs tangled with yours so you could no longer even move them let alone kick.

No. Oh God no! This isn’t happening.

Your tangled screams turn into muffled sobs. You absolutely hate how tears start to roll down your cheeks instantly. You’re showing weakness. And your body is growing weak alongside your mind. Yet still you try to move at least. It doesn’t work. The guy is ten times stronger than you. You can smell him. Something lavender. You can feel him. His breath. His weight. Everywhere. You feel sick. 

“Please don’t.” You manage to croak out, finally. “Do-don’t. Let-let me..” Your own voice is unrecognisable to even you. Desperate. Pathetic. Helpless. 

“Shh.. it’s okay princess. Calm down baby. Calm down.” His voice makes your skin prickle. Your muffled sobs turn into a wail. Despite how much you don’t like it, you start bawling like a child. 

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Let me go. Don’t-” You try to move one more time. Fail, yet again. “Don’t touch me.” Your body starts to shake. You watch how his eyes widen through your blurry gaze. “Le-let me go. Do-don’t touch please-” You feel his grip loosen. He takes a minute. Then abruptly gets off you. Sit back on his heels. 

“Okay. Okay. Fuck. I’m not touching you. Don’t move too fast-”

You don’t give a fuck about what he says. The moment his hands and body are not on you, you jump into action again. This time you manage to sit back properly. Manage to get down from the bed you’ve been on. Manage to stand on your feet. Only just for a split second, however. Just as you stand up, your legs give up completely. Everything starts to go dark.Your body fails you entirely as you feel the way you start to sway to your left. You’d hit the ground any second now. But the impact never comes. 

“Told you baby. You’re making it worse.” 

You’re wrapped up in a pair of strong hands. 

…………………………….

You lay in the silk comforters. Head propped up on two pillows. Soaked in your own sweat. Head violently pounding. Spinning. You’ve thrown up three times by now. Still you feel nauseous. There’s a metallic bitter taste lingering on your tongue. Your fingers feel numb. So do your legs. Everything feels like a nightmare to you. Nothing makes sense but you know it’s real. You woke up next to your AI character. Each and everything that happened to you was real. Your AI Jeongguk was real. And you’ve been kidnapped. He kidnapped you and now you’re a prisoner here. 

The nausea intensifies tenfold at the realization. You’re trapped here. And you’re too weak to even consider running away. You tried and now look at you. Completely bedridden. It’s humiliating how your captor had to hold your hair back while you threw your guts out. Ridiculous how your captor was the one who carried you to the bed when you couldn’t make two steps without falling down. 

Fresh tears start to roll down through your cheeks. You’re completely helpless and at his mercy. You want to be able to do something. To fight. Escape. What have you done in your previous life that you’re in this kind of situation? You twist the silk bed sheet around your fingers. Having no other way of unleashing your emotions. Anger. Despair. Fear. Sorrow. 

The sudden sound of the door opening snaps you out of your melancholy. You instantly recoil in your spot. Back pressing into the mattress as you idly try to make yourself hidden from his view. Even closing your eyes shut as if it would help you to hide your shaking figure. Creating a false sense of protectiveness around you. It’s scary. Him. His place. Even his presence. It doesn’t matter how tidy and spotless this room is. How handsome he looks. How good he and this room smell. Nothing is enough to shake your fear away. You recoil even more as you hear his footsteps growing closer to you. Almost cover your face in the comforter when you feel his presence right next to you. Standing near the bed. 

“Baby!” His voice is soothing. Warm and soft. Like the caress of a lover. If only that’s the case. You squeeze your eyes shut. Not wanting to look at your abductor. You hear him heave a heavy sigh. “C’mon, you need to eat something.” He mumbles. You keep your eyes closed. “Princess, you’re sick, and you need to eat something.” He repeats. And you feel your stomach churn.

Princess?

He acts like he cares about you with his whole heart and soul. Sick. He’s fucking sick. 

Among all the emotions you’re feeling, you sense how anger rears its head above the rest.. You’re still very scared but you can't help but feel mad. What can go wrong anymore, anyway. You’ve already trapped here. So, you tilt your head to your side. Keep your eyes closed. 

“Okay,” Jeongguk lets out an almost inaudible chuckle before you can hear him placing something on the nightstand. You guess it’s the food. Then you can feel him sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. Then silence. For a second, all you can feel is his presence. Then a sharp gasp leaves your mouth when you feel a rough hand on your face. Cups your cheeks. You open your eyes solely due to the fear at the same time Jeongguk turns your head toward him. Just like earlier, you’re met with his face so close to you. Instead of brown, glinting, innocent doe eyes, however, this time you’re peering into a pair of dark eyes that are shadowed by a dangerous dark cloud. Threatening and warning. 

“You’re such a brat princess. I knew you were. Don’t be stubborn now,hm? You need energy. You need food,” Your breath hitch at his dangerous voice. Eyes starting to prick with new tears. Jeongguk’s features soften at that. “Look baby, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you. Won’t do anything to you.” He withdraws his hand. You immediately let out a breath of relief. Ignore the way his face tightens for a minute at that. But he fixes it immediately. “I won’t even touch you. See,” Shows his hands to you while he says that. “But,” Of course, there’s a but. “You need to be a good girl. Can’t have you die under my protection now, can we? That’s not why I brought you here. All I want is the best for you baby. So, don’t be stubborn now, will you? Just let me feed you.” He takes a tray from the nightstand, which is what he probably placed there earlier. “Let’s clean you up then and you’ll have a good sleep. Come morning, you’ll be all fine.” Gives you a soft and reassuring smile. His lip ring glistnes under the dim lighting of the room. “C’mon, sit up. Want me to help you?” Questions. 

You just dumbly stare at him. How sweet he appears. How caring. And he always was. When you thought he was just a mere programme. Before he started controlling every movement of your life. Scared the shit out of you and ended up kidnapping you. Lied to you about a whole lot of things. Hell, your entire life is a lie. This sweet man in front of you is a lie. That smile is a facade. He’s a dangerous predator and you’re his prey. One wrong movement, he’ll break your neck. And you don’t want that. Despite everything, dying in his hands is the last thing you want. 

You shake your head. You absolutely don’t want his hands on you. Even if it’s just to help you. You’ll use the last ounce of your strength to do things alone. So, you sit up with a great effort. He rushes to fix the pillow into a much more comfortable angle to you. You say nothing when he starts to feed you. 

You’ll find a way out of here. Even though you have no idea where you are. You don’t even know what day it is or the time. There’s not a clock in here. You don’t know how long it has been since you were here. Missing from the outside world. Yet, you’ll figure it out. To do that, however, you’ll need your strength back. You convince yourself that’s the only reason why you’re greedily opening your mouth every time he brings the spoon near it. Nothing else. Not because the soup tastes heavenly and you’re starving. You don’t want his food. It’s just that you need strength. 

……………………….

You didn’t want to comply with any of his requests. Or commands, you’ll say since none of them sounds like requests. He demanded that you eat. You did. He demanded that you bathe. You did. He demanded that you sleep. So, you did. Now when you’re awake, still lying on his comfy bed, he’s demanding you take some pills. You don’t want to do it. You don’t know what those pills are. And the longer you resist the harder his expression is turning.

He was beaming when you opened your eyes to find him sitting at the corner desk, staring at his computer. He seemed genuinely thrilled to see you awake again. But with every minute you refused to take the pills, his smile slowly faded. Replaced with a scowl and now he’s glaring down at you. You don’t like that look. A shiver runs through your spine. 

“Now, what did I tell you princess?” He asks softly but you can hear the hidden warning. 

“I-I’m f-fine. I- don’t w-want medicine.” You meekly try one more time. Jeongguk’s whole face turns grim. You don’t know what he’ll do. Panic floods your mind. You gulp harshly. You hate how you feel scared of this man. Paranoid. He hasn’t done anything except kidnapping you. Not yet anyway. He promised not to touch you and he hadn’t. He cooked for you, made sure you were clean, comfy, and warm. All of which are good things. But here you are afraid of him as if he’s the satan when he looks like an angel.

You raise a shaky weak arm up to take the pills in your hand. It’s not like he would drug you. You don’t know how he brought you here. Only things you can remember are the fear and your apartment. And his voice. The rest is dark. Maybe he drugged you then. Maybe hit you hard across your head. Or maybe it’s simply chloroform. But now though he has no reason to drug you again. You’re too weak anyway. And he himself told you that he doesn't want to cause any harm. You gulp down the pills in one go. Hoping it wouldn’t actually kill you. Look at Jeongguk expectantly. His expression doesn’t change a bit. But he simply nods and turns around to walk away. And your tongue betrays you before you can process it. His name leaves past your lips even without your knowledge. 

“Jeongguk.” You mutter weakly. He halts. Turns around to face you. His expression is unreadable. You don’t know why you stopped him. So, you try to rake your brain for a good excuse when he saves you from the trouble. 

“JungKook.” He states. 

“Huh?” You blink at his face when finally his face softens. “It’s Jungkook pretty. My real name, it’s Jeon Jungkook.” He explains. 

Oh!

Of course, he lied. Not that you care anyway. Why would you? You just nod in acceptance. 

“Why?” You decide to ignore his disclosure. The question comes easily into your mouth. And Jeongguk- or now Jungkook looks genuinely surprised. You expect him to ask you to clarify the question. He doesn’t. 

“Because I love you baby. I don’t want you to hurt anymore. Wanted to protect you. You’re safe here with me. Besides, you gave me no other option. You were becoming too stubborn and you lied to me. When I did my best, you lied to me baby.” Jungkook peers down at your figure on his bed. You feel new tears forming in your eyes again. You’re too tired. You can’t cry anymore. But you can’t help it either. Jungkook is talking about kidnapping you as if it’s such a normal thing. He reasons with you about how fair that is. He tells you that he did it because he loves you. He’s insane—completely and utterly insane.

“I didn’t want to scare you and bring you here this way. I had a plan. And you ruined it because you had to lie to me and go after your shitty friends and ex again. I had to do something before you hurt yourself again. I’m sorry I scared you baby,” He smiles softly again. You bite the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from crying. “But that’s okay now. You’re safe and I’ll make sure of it.” He turns around again. Leaves the room. 

A fresh sob erupts from your throat. 

You’re trapped with a psychopath. 

…………………………..

It had taken a week. An entire week for you to recover from whatever agonizing sickness you went through. You couldn’t even move alone without Jungkook’s help, let alone thinking about running away. Yet you plotted your escape anyway. While you were resting on the bed for twenty four hours, you planned every miniscule detail of your grand escape. Until you end up with no plan on the seventh day where you are finally able to walk without his help. It’s not that your plans are stupid. No. Simply that each and every plan you come with requires a moment where Jungkook isn’t home. And after a close examination of a week, you realized that the chances of such a moment is likely zero. 

The guy is always home. Every damn minute. You had waited until he’d finally go to work. He didn’t. Your best guess was that he works from home. That explains the amount of time he’s spending hunched over his computer. It’s surprising to you, how a complete computer nerd has that kind of body. Then you waited until he left the place for groceries or something. That didn’t happen either. And that makes all your plans futile. 

Scary. The prospect of not being able to run away almost drains you out of your will to live. But you’re still hopeful. The opportunity might arrive anytime. Especially since you’ve gained your strength back again. 

And you believe with your whole heart that people must be looking for you already. Daebi surely must have visited you the next day as she promised. You wonder if she has suspected anything right away. Maybe not. But still she must’ve tried to call you. You were friends for almost more than six years now. She knows you like the back of her hand. She would definitely know something is wrong. You guess she already did. Besides she knew you were paranoid about someone being in your place. Daebi is a smart woman and she must’ve picked up on the clues fast. You believe she has already paid a visit to the police station. You can imagine the ruckus she’s causing there. Demanding them to find you soon. See, you have hope. You know they’d come find you eventually. But still you won’t sit here prettily until that happens. You’ll try your utmost best to escape. 

Besides, on the bright side, Jungkook hasn’t tried to harm you in any way. He has stuck to his promise and never even laid a finger on you. Except for the times he had to help you move around. And you didn’t protest at those times either since despite your strong will, your body didn’t comply with your mind. Other than that, the man has respected your wishes and your privacy fully. He hasn’t even slept in the same room as you. Somehow, you have managed to realise that it’s his room. But he has given it to you. You have no idea where he spent nights. Not that you care anyway. You really didn’t talk with him. He did. You listened. Or you didn’t do that either. Simply, you allowed him to ramble sometime while he fed you or helped you around. And as long as everything keeps happening in the same way, you can wait patiently until a perfect moment arises for you. 

Yes. That moment will come and you will be out of here even before you know.  

You give yourself a firm nod. Partially in determination and partially to brace yourself to do what you’re about to do. You place your hand slowly on the doorknob. This is the first time you’re about to step outside of this room. It’s not that you really want to do that. But firstly, you’re sick of looking at the same four walls for a straight week. Secondly, you need to have a better idea about the place you live in to be able to successfully escape. You haven’t seen Jungkook since this morning but you know he’s somewhere under the same roof as you. 

You open the door slowly and quietly. Half expecting to stumble into a hidden trap or have something jump out at you. Nothing like that happens. You open the door completely and are met with a short hallway. Across from it you can see a living room. The entire place is eerily quiet. No sounds of anything except a distant buzz that you assume is a refrigerator. You slowly take a step forward. Then another. Still being very cautious of any sudden attacks. And make it to the living room without any hitch. His bedroom has looked lavish. You won’t lie. It’s comfortable and large. Even his bathroom is lavish. But now as you’re standing in his living room, you know certainly he’s rich. You don't know what his job is but for one thing, he must be earning six figures while working from home. Impressive. Perfect. Like how he portrayed himself in front of you. The Perfect Partner. 

You let out a small breath. Taking in your surroundings. Minimalistic black and white interior. Comfy couch. State-of-the-art television. Everything looks lavish. You dart your eyes over every nook and corner, stopping in every detail until you spot what you’ve been looking for. The main door. Right across from you. You gape at the wooden barrier that keeps you hidden in this place. Isn’t it funny how it’s just a door and all you have to do is twist the knob? Aren’t you going to be free then? The temptation coils around your body like a serpent. Tightening painfully with every passing second. What would happen if you just started running toward that door? Just open it and break into a run for all that you are worth. 

“I won’t even think about it, if I was you, pretty.” The sudden voice that comes from nowhere startles you so much that a yelp escapes your mouth. You whip around to find Jungkook casually standing behind you. How long has he been there? How come you didn’t hear anything? “It’s stupid and it could hurt you. You’re not even wearing proper clothes are you?” He adds while you stare at him with wide eyes. 

“I-I-”

“It’s fine. I hope you’re not that stupid baby. You won’t break my trust again, will you?” Jungkook takes a slow step forward. You take one backward. He stops. “Will you?” Asks again. You shake your head almost instantly. Why the hell are you so afraid of this man? Well, you should be. Look where you are. “Good,” He smiles. That damn smile that makes his lip ring glistnes. That horrible smile that makes you shiver. Sweet. Sweet like venom. “I’ve been preparing you breakfast, wanna join me in the kitchen since now you can walk alone perfectly?” Raises his eyebrow in question. You take a moment. You don’t want to be near him. But you have to find a moment. An opportunity. You’ll not find it by scooping yourself inside his room. After a second of hesitation you nod. 

………………………….

Days roll painfully slowly by you. Days spent patiently waiting for an opportunity that hasn’t arrived until now. Jungkook doesn’t leave his apartment just like you knew. He’s always there. He fascinates you at this point, truly. It’s like he possesses some secret powers to be able to do that. You’re wondering how he never faces any emergencies that require him to leave the place. Maybe that’s how unfortunate you are. Not getting the slightest of a chance to escape your luxury prison. And with every passing day, the light of your hope is growing duller and duller. You’re terrified of never getting a chance out of here. So you are afraid of anyone else never finding you ever again. It’s been more than two weeks since you've been here, but not a single person came ringing his bell saying they're here to check for a missing person. 

The only people who rang his bell were the delivery men bringing his orders. Jungkook always made sure you’re out of their sight each time that happened. You don’t know why you obediently complied with him every time. Jungkook hasn’t done anything harmful to you until now. His promise is still going. Yet you find yourself terrified of him. All it takes is a scowl or straight face from him, you’re following his orders around like a little pet. You hate it. You hate yourself for being afraid of him. But for some reason you are. He may not have done any harm to you yet. That, however, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of that. There are millions of dangerous ‘what if’s  going inside your brain every time you try to be a little rebellious. Which is the same reason why you’re reluctant to try on a new plan. 

If Jungkook never leaves his place, that leaves you with only one option. Trying to escape while he’s still around. Extremely dangerous. If you succeed, then it’s fine. But if you don’t then that would be the end of you. You know for a fact that then Jungkook no longer would pretend to be the sweet boy he is. All starry eyes while he looks at you or the shy smiles. Sweet nicknames he uses for you or the innocent flirtings. They’d all drown under his anger and maybe he’ll break his promise then. Or he’d simply kill you. And for the record, you know you’re not a match for his strength if it ever comes to fighting him down. He’d definitely surrender you even before you properly start fighting. That leaves you hopeless. Helpless. Even the thought makes a lump form in your throat. 

You swallow that lump as you focus on the man in front of you. Just happily fumbling around his kitchen like an innocent kitten. He truly does look like a bunny sometimes. Normal. Capable of deceiving anyone. Oh, how sick he makes you feel. Only if you could just hit him with something and run away. Maybe you can try. Can you? Are you capable of doing that? None of these would be a problem if he can just leave the place for a minute. Maybe he doesn’t trust you to leave you alone. Hell, he doesn’t even leave you to yourself when he showers. He made sure you’re locked inside a room while he used the guest bathroom. Not the room you slept in. And that room has a lock you’re incapable of finding how to unleash. He's a genius. 

Smart motherfucker!

Well, then maybe you should play this smart. Pretend to like him. He surely acts like he’s so whipped for you. Maybe you can take advantage of that. 

You perk up instantly. Now watching him with a newfound interest. He is in a white t-shirt and black slacks. His tattooed hand on display. His raven hair tousled after the shower he just had. Jungkook raises his head from the pot he’s been stirring. Probably sensing your stares. He gives you a soft smile. You try to reciprocate it but fail. You have no idea how you’re ever going to pretend to like him when your stomach churns whenever he’s too close to you. 

He’s god damn handsome and that’s a given. Not even God himself would be able to argue. Jungkook is a piece of art. But still, he was the same person who put you through hell and now keeps you trapped here. And that makes him disgusting. You hate him. Completely. But you can’t let him know that. Right? You need to earn his trust. Then maybe he’ll leave you alone to yourself sometimes. Maybe he would trust you enough to not lock you in a room while he showers. So, you bite back the disgust you feel when he walks to you with a spoon in his hand. 

He is making Sundubu Jjigae. Just because you said you wanted that for dinner when he asked. That’s the first thing that comes to your mouth. He brings the spoon to your mouth. You open your mouth without any reluctance. The rich broth invades your taste buds, almost making you hum in delight. You catch yourself just in time. He’s a very good cook, as you’ve come to know by now. See, he’d be a Perfect Partner if it wasn’t for the fact he's a psychopath. 

You give him a nod in approval. “It’s good.” Mumble softly. You still don’t talk with him much. If you’re going to pretend to like him. Then that’d take so much work. Jungkook pouts. 

“Good? That’s it? C’mon I need a perfect princess.” He walks back to the stove. “Should I throw it away and start over?” He looks at you. Eyes glinting. Yours go wide instantly. You straighten up in your stool. Head already shaking. 

“No. No. I- I mean, it’s good. No- uh- it’s perfect Gu-” You shut your mouth immediately. Catching yourself. He’s not the Jeongguk you knew. And even if he is, you're not going to call him by nicknames. You feel nauseous. So much for pretending to like him. Jungkook’s face clouds by something grim for a minute before he smiles. 

“Yeah?” Questions. 

“Yes.” You confirm. 

……………………………

You gaze out of the floor to ceiling windows of Jungkook’s living room. The night city bustles beneath you. According to your best guess, you’re at least fifteen floors high in this apartment building. That leaves you to imagine the ruckus it would cause you to reach the lobby if you manage to actually escape. 

No, you shouldn’t think that way.

There’s no ifs. You’re going to escape and you’ll overcome every challenge as well. You shake your head to brush off any negative thoughts. You can always look at the bright side. At least he hasn’t taken you away from the country and your familiar city. That thought alone makes you feel a little at ease. There’s still hope. You let out a heavy sigh. Jungkook is playing a video game on his expensive TV behind you. You turn your head to take a brief glance at him. Just to make sure he’s still there. He sometimes walks around in the grace of a black panther. It always gives you heart attacks. 

You look back at the outside again. Trying to imagine yourself walking among the thousands of people down there. Living a normal, busy life. Not someone’s personal amusement. You try to imagine freedom. The night air in your skin. You feel suffocated. Oh, how you wish to go outside just for a second. You’re really getting tired of this place. All you want is a one-

Your trail of thoughts get interrupted when you suddenly catch the reflection of Jungkook standing up through the window. You tense up like a bowstring, knowing very well he’d come to you. Just like you knew he lazily stalks toward you. Stands behind you. Closely. So closely that you can feel his breath on your neck. You force yourself to stay still.

If you want to pretend you like him, then you need to start somewhere. 

“What is it, princess?” He mumbles sweetly. Eyes trailing past you to look at what you’ve been looking at. You almost shake your head to say it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter how bad you need to start somewhere, you don’t wish to engage in conversation with him much. It’s like a reflex. How you’re ready to run away from him. But you bite back the urge. You inhale deeply.

“Ca-can we g-go outside?” You blurt out before you can back out again. Jungkook’s eyes flicker to your reflection. Your eyes meet. “I- I mean with you of course. I- I feel like I’m getting cabin fever.” You breathe out. Jungkook says nothing. Just watches you intently. This is the most you’ve talked with him. He looks a bit surprised as well. He takes his sweet time. For a minute, it seems like he would say yes. Even a tiny bubble of hope builds inside you when it just pops out at his next words. 

“I’m sorry, pretty, but no.” 

You can’t help it. You absolutely can’t help how a sudden flash of anger washes through you. Weeks of frustration get to you all at once. You turn around to face him at light speed. 

“Why not?” You grit your teeth.

“Because it’s not safe yet.” He answers calmly. If he notices the way your mood swings, he doesn’t show it. A strained laughter escapes you.

“When will it be safe then?” You question again. He doesn’t answer. And his silence makes you lose your patience. “You fucking can’t keep me trapped here forever Jungkook. You fucking can’t do this to me. You-” You feel your eyes prick with tears. “You fucking can’t treat to me like I’m your pet. I’m a person and- and why are you doing this to me?” You swear that you didn’t plan on crying. But the tears start to roll down as your voice cracks. Interrupted by petty sobs. “Why me?” You muffle your cries with your palm. Jungkook takes a tentative step back. Eyes wide. 

“No, what?” Then he takes that step forward again. His hands grab you tightly by your shoulders. “Why would you ever think you’re trapped here (___), I already told you, I won’t do anything to harm you.” He squeezes your shoulders. In your overwhelmed state you just allow him. “I- oh, gosh princess, you’re not a prisoner here. What’s mine is yours. Consider this your home. You’re not trapped and you’re not a pet. Don’t twist things. You know I love you and I’d do anything for you.” One of his hands leaves your shoulder just to cup your face. Softly. He lifts your face upward to look at him. “Do you understand me baby? You’re not trapped.” 

You blink your tears back. He’s so fucking sick. Look at the things he’s talking about. And you know showing him you’re weak isn’t going to be any help to you. You bring a shaky hand to place on his chest. Push him away weakly. He gets the hint. His hands fall limp beside him. 

“Then why can’t I go outside? You brought me here without my consent Jungkook, that’s fucking kidnapping. And-” You inhale a shaky breath. You’re still very much afraid of him. But you’ll talk to him while you can. Before your fear will make you go back into your shell again. “You say you love me? After all the shit you put me through? Guess what Jungkook-” You feel the anger burning through you. “You don’t love me, you’re just sick and I fucking hate you!” You shout through the top of your lungs. 

And it all happens so fast. The hurt slash across Jungkook’s eyes before they darkened with a dangerous gloom. Your words echo through the apartment before everything falls into a deadly silent state. 

Then even before you know it, your back hits the glass behind you with a loud thud. Jungkook’s hand cupping your cheek so damn tight this time that an involuntary whimper leaves you. He turns your head so you’re looking dead in the eye with him. His body pressing against yours, completely caging you between him and the window. 

“Take that back.” He growls. Is so close to you that you’re practically sharing one breath. His breath tingles your face. “Take that fucking back (___).” He shakes your face. His grip is too tight. You don’t know why you’re crying now. Is it because of the tight grip or the fear? Your body instantly turns limp. Useless. “You don’t mean it. You don’t hate me. Take it back.” Jungkook’s dangerous grumble turns into a shaky, breathless whimper. “Please.” You look at the hurt in his eyes with teary eyes. Your heart beating in your throat and your entire body trembling. You had thought he hit you or something. But now when the situation makes sense to your brain, you’re desperately trying to calm down. Not to die from a heart attack. “Take that back baby, please.” He pleads again. His tight grip on you, however, is a stark contrast to his pleading words. 

“I-” You don’t know what you should say. You’ve ruined your plan even before you start it. You’ve said you hate him. Now your chances to gain his trust will be zero. There’s no reason to pretend anyway. You brace yourself to keep talking. Disagree with him. Consequences be damned. “You wouldn’t do this to me if you loved me, Jungkook.” Despite your best efforts, your voice comes out shaky. “If you really care, you would let me go.” You’re trying to persuade him. There’s a slim chance that it’d work. “I need to live a normal life. I-” Your words get cut off when Jungkook suddenly chuckles. He rests his forehead against you. 

“Yeah? And let you go after your shitty ex again. And watch him break your heart all over again?” His grip finally loosens. He starts caressing your cheek with his thumb, instead. Surprisingly, you find yourself a little bit less disgusted. “No thanks baby. I won’t go through that hell again.” He breathes out. You close your eyes shut when you feel that breath on your lips. “It’s funny, actually. How you never saw what you have. We’re not that different. We both always wanted what hurts us the most. You never saw how I always loved you. Then you ask me why I did it? I did it because you won’t see it any other way. I just love you so much I’ll do it all over again, if I have to. I won’t just accept the defeat this time and watch you go after some loser just to get your heart broken again baby. No. Not again.” 

You shoot open your eyes. 

What did he say? 

Again?

Always loved you?

What does he mean, again? How long has he been knowing you? A new fear makes you shiver. A sense that there’s more to this than meets the eye engulfs you. You want to question him about that. But something tells you that you will not like the answers. So, you keep quiet when he finally withdraws from you. He wipes your tears away. 

“I’m sorry it had to be like this princess, but I have no other options.” He steps away from you completely. “If you hate me, then I won’t mind. You’ll learn to love me one day too. Until then let’s see how things go.” He turns around. Then stops. “When the time is right, I’ll take you out. A date maybe.” 

……………………..

You stopped trying to do anything again. No more requests. No trying to pretend because you know you suck at that. Just cautiously watching him. Letting days pass by. With no opportunity to do anything except to keep yourself as far away from Jeon Jungkook as possible. Until today. This very moment. 

You perk up as a knock comes on the door. It’s just another lazy but alarming day of watching him cook for you. Jungkook stops chopping cabbage. He already knew the delivery was coming. You eye him wearily as he washes his hands, gives you a soft smile and leaves the kitchen. Even these kinds of short moments give you solace. You almost drop your head into your palms when you suddenly notice it. The sleek black device on the kitchen counter. Jungkook’s phone. You straighten up immediately. 

Among your many plans, trying to call someone always has been a first. Only that you never got a chance. You haven’t found any device that you can use for communication except for his phone. And obviously he keeps it with himself. Every damn time. Even when he showers. Today, however, is an exception it seems. You eye the phone on the kitchen island. Your heart beats in your throat. 

He has forgotten it for sure. He doesn't allow chances for you to try anything funny. Hell, at this rate you’re sure you won’t even get a chance to escape even if he leaves you alone in this apartment. You know he’d lock you inside that damn room with that smart locking system. Jungkook controls that shit with his mobile. You know he has installed that lock in that specific room just to keep you inside. All the other rooms and doors are normal. You’ve seen it. Even the main door is normal. You know it requires a password to enter but you can freely walk out. Like a normal door would. 

Maybe this would be the only chance you get. You can call someone. Or text someone. Jungkook has just gone to open the door for another delivery. But it’ll take some time. If you hurry- it’s just enough time. You lick your dry lips. Your head is pounding with indecision. 

Oh, you have to at least try.

You need to do something. Being a prisoner here forever isn’t an option. 

Time is ticking and you’re losing your precious opportunity. 

You slide down from the stool as you slowly make it toward the phone. Your ears are ringing. Cold beads of sweat start to appear on your forehead. Your breathing comes out as shallow pants. You stand still before the phone. 

There it is. Just a lifeless device. It won’t start screaming when you grab it. All you have to do is just call someone quickly. You throw a nervous glance to the doorway. He isn’t here yet. But he would be any minute. 

You need to fucking hurry!

You grab the phone at almost light speed. Throwing caution to the wind, you press the power button, revealing the lock screen. You swipe the screen. In a blind hope that it wouldn’t be password protected. A disappointed sigh leaves you when the screen changes for password input. Of course, who were you kidding? He has a smart locking system and you thought he wouldn’t add a password for his device? How stupid can you be?

A low curse slips through your lips as your brain starts to run a mile a minute. Swirling around different possibilities as to what could be his password. You’re at a loss. You know nothing about him. Almost three weeks with him yet you never even bothered to know anything about him beyond his name. You don’t know his birthday. Age. You don’t know about his family. Anything that could lead you up to a possible guess. You groan as you force your brain to come up with something. 

His age? Do you know that? Have you ever knew it? You wander through your memory lane. Maybe you could find a hint if you think about your time with him before this. When you thought he was just an AI. His bio. He obviously lied to you about his name but what about his age. He had that on there. It takes you a split second to remember it. You can clearly remember he was older than you. And you think you can recall his age as well. 

Yes, that’s it.

The combination requires four numbers and you guess it’s the year. You do a quick calculation in your mind. 

1997

You enter the numbers with trembling fingers, praying to god that it’d be the right one. 

Password incorrect!

You clutch the phone tightly. Almost enough to crack it with your bare hands. Your blood roars inside your ears. Drowning all the other sounds. You glance at the doorway again. He isn’t here again. One more time. One more chance. Even tears start to prick at your eyes as you torture your mind for something. Something that he likes. Sure, you must’ve seen something. Anything. You live with him for fucks sake. 

Something that’s valuable to him. 

Something he lov-

Your eyes go wide. It sure can’t be right? You know something very precious to him. 

You!

You let out a breathy exhale as you frantically start to enter your birth year into the keypad. You’re 99.9% positive that this wouldn’t work. 

It does. The moment you type the last digit the phone unlocks. 

Wow! He really is crazy. That familiar fear tugs at your guts. You have no time to dwell on that, however. There’s more pressing matters at hand. You open the phone application frantically. You can call the police. You can call one of your friends. The best option is to call the police. But you feel hesitant. What if they don’t trust you? You don’t know where this mistrust about the law comes from. In the end, you opt on dialing one of your friends. And without a doubt it’s going to be Daebi. Not that you remember other people’s numbers anyway. 

You dial on Daebi’s number. Your fingers are shaking and your breath is getting caught in your throat every now and then. Same chant or prayer going through your mind. 

Please don’t let him come now. Please don’t.

You enter the final number and mindlessly hit the dial button. It takes a millisecond for the screen to change into the calling page. Then it does. 

D

A capital ‘D’ pops up on the screen. A saved number. You squint your eyes in annoyance. Did you get the number wrong? You have no time for this. You hang up the call immediately before dialing it again. Wait. The same ‘D’ pops up again. This number is saved on this phone. 

No. That can’t be.

How and why would Jungkook has Daebi’s number on his phone. Maybe you have jumbled your memory and this isn’t her number. You feel a shiver run through your spine. This can’t be. You should try again. You hang up the call once more. Start entering it over again. 

“What are you doing?” 

The voice booms through the kitchen. You jump on your spot before the phone slips through your fingers at the unexpected sound. You hear a faint clank as your wide eyes turn to Jungkook. Standing at the doorway. Some grocery bags in his hand. He assesses you for a minute before storming toward you. That dark cloud envelopes him whole as you watch him drop all the bags on the counter. Rounds the table to reach you. You just stand there rooted to the floor by fear. “What the fuck were you doing (___),” He shouts. Bends down and grabs his phone, which is still unlocked. “Who the hell did you contact?” He barks. Frantically going through his call history. 

A beat passes.

You watch how his expression instantly calms down. 

That can’t be.

He gives you a sympathetic look. 

That isn’t Daebi’s number.

Jungkook sighs. “You shouldn’t do dumb things pretty. It always ends up hurting you.” Clutches his phone tightly. “I already told you that I’m trying to protect you. But you’re still trying to betray me? You’re still trying to be that ungrateful bitch? You think your stupid friends give a fuck about you?” He takes a step toward you. His jaw clenched. You stay still. Your head spinning and your mind wandering between his words and all the possibilities as to how he has Daebi’s number. It can’t be her number. It isn’t. “How stupid you are baby. How fucking stupid are you? You could’ve called anyone, the police, someone else, but you decided to call your bitch of a best friend.” A throaty laugh escapes him. You tremble visibly. Well, you fucked up and maybe you won’t get any chance to know what’s actually happening. Jungkook would kill you before that. 

Still, though, you stay rooted in place as he closes the remaining few inches between you. Not because you’re not afraid anymore. But because it’s all too much for you to give a reaction. The only thing you’re capable of doing is gasping when he suddenly grabs your wrist. 

“I really didn’t want to harm you princess. When I say I’ll never cause you any harm, I meant it. But since you’re a stubborn bitch, maybe a little heartbreak and some truth will do you good.”

That’s all he says before turning around and starting to walk away. Dragging you with him. You protest weakly but without a doubt he wins. 

…………………….

You sit in his gaming chair. Slightly trembling and staring blankly at his computer screen. You actually don’t give a shit about what he has to show you. Something inside you is telling you that whatever this is, it isn’t going to be good. Yet, despite your protest Jungkook leans forward over your shoulder and clicks on a file. A video file to be specific.

“I never wanted to show this to you.” He whispers in your ear. You say nothing. Just sit there stupidly watching the screen change into a sight of an unfamiliar room. Jungkook doesn’t withdraw to give you your personal space. He just stays there. You ignore his presence as you pay your jumbled attention to the screen. For a couple of minutes it’s just a still image of a room. You almost become convinced that it’s really a picture when suddenly a door to the left of the room opens. You furrow your brow as you catch a woman entering the room, her face isn’t completely visible. And the quality of the video is really shitty. 

Yet you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand. An urge that something bad is about to happen lurking inside your stomach. Gut feelings. 

The woman fumbles around the room. Her face is still not visible to the camera. But even from the back and with the shitty quality you think she’s familiar. Very. 

You know her. 

Right at the clue, she turns around. Her eyes directly land on the camera. You let out a painful breath. 

Daebi!

You feel your heart squeeze. It hurts but at the same time a fleeting sense of comfort washes over you at the sight of a familiar face. Only until she turns around toward the door again, though. Only until a second figure enters the frame. A man. He doesn’t fumble around. He looks at Daebi the moment he enters and you see his face right away. 

If you thought it hurt to see Daebi, your whole world collapses the moment you see the man.

Hoseok!

No. 

Even before anything happens, you understand it. You feel an overwhelming urge to scream through the top of your lungs. To grab something and smash the computer into pieces. You don’t though. Are too stunned to be able to do anything. You can’t even look away. Not even when Daebi walks to Hoseok leisurely. Not even when Hoseok grabs her waist, flattening her against his chest. You keep watching when he lowers his head to catch Daebi’s mouth in a searing kiss. 

No. Please God no. This can’t be right.

But it’s unfolding in front of your eyes. Their kiss turns heated quickly. Hoeseok’s hand slips from her waist to her ass. He guides them toward the bed. 

No. Not Daebi. Daebi won’t do this to you. Hoseok would, yes. But not Daebi.

“This is- this..” A sob interrupts whatever you're trying to say. “It’s fake. You- you..” You don’t know what you’re talking about. 

“You still don’t believe that, after everything? Even when you have the proofs” Jungkook sighs. You shake your head violently.

“You forged it. Y-you- oh, c’mon,” You chuckle between your cries. “You created a damn app to lure me into your trap. You’re a fucking genius. Of-of fucking course you edited this.” Yes, that’s exactly what happened. You nod weakly, desperate to convince yourself. Jungkook says nothing for a while. But then all of sudden he places his phone on the table. Your eyes flicker from the errotic scene of your best friend and ex- boyfriend making out on a bed to his phone screen. There’s an outgoing call. 

D

Oh, you know what he’s doing. And you want to throw the phone away. You shouldn’t let him manipulate you. This all is his doing. The video. This call. 

“Hello!” 

You slightly jump on your seat when the unexpected voice reaches you through the phone. No one says anything.

“Hello? Kook?” Oh, you can recognize that voice anywhere. She is your best friend after all. 

“Hello D.” Jungkook finally answers her. You slump in your seat. Feeling all your energy leaves your body. 

“What the fuck man. You promised me you will never fucking contact me again. Why the hell are you calling me?” Daebi hisses. Jungkook gives a soft chuckle.

“Oh, it’s just that uh…” His eyes move to your shaky figure. “Your best friend here wanted to say hi.”

“What?” 

Jungkook taps your shoulder. You don’t want to do that. There’s no reason. But somehow you hear your own shaky voice come from a distance. 

“D-daebi?” It’s pathetic and desperate. Still hangs into a loose thread of hope. 

“Shit!” Daebi curses aloud. Her voice is sharp and panicked. That loose thread of hope breaks. You just gape at the phone screen. 

“Are you happy to hear from you bestie D?” Jungkook asks again. With a mockery tilt in his voice. You don’t know whether Daebi answered his question. Probably not. Because before anything, you hear a second voice. 

“Baby, who’s it?” Another voice that you’ll recognize anywhere. How can you not when you have loved him with everything.

Hoseok. 

And the line disconnects. 

All that is left is despair. Disappointment. Disbelief. And pain. Pain everywhere. It hurts everywhere. Every breath you take, every inch of your skin, every heartbeat, it all hurts. 

You can’t believe it. 

But it is the truth. 

You can’t control your cries. Can’t stop the gut-wrenching sobs tearing from your throat. Even start to rock yourself. Wrap your arms around your body. You need a little comfort. Otherwise you’ll die from this pain. That’s why you don’t complain or protest when Jungkook suddenly pulls you onto your feet. Just for him to sit back and drag you into his lap. You just allow him to manhandle you as you immediately curl into a ball in his lap. Hide your face in his broad chest and your fist bunching up on his t-shirt. You allow him to wrap his arms around you and rock you softly. 

“I know princess, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you but you deserve to know the truth. I always tried to protect you. I’m so sorry.” He draws soothing patterns on your back. You feel his lips on your crownline. 

 “It’s fine, I got you. You’re going to be safe. I’m not letting you go this time.”

…………………………..

At Daebi’s place

“Who was that?” Hoseok plops next to his girlfriend on the couch. 

“No one. Just another spam call.” Daebi sighs. Her face is completely pale. Hoseok takes a minute to study her expression.

“Yeah?” He mumbles. “Are you okay?” Questions just to be sure. Daebi gives him a soft smile before leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… you know how it is..” 

Of course, he knows. He and Daebi always lived in a constant loop of guilt. If only either of them had found the courage to tell you earlier, when they started falling in love. Then nothing like this would’ve happened. Hoseok thinks it’s cruel how he or Daebi never got a real chance to apologize to you. He really had thought maybe he would get that chance when he last saw you at Daebi’s birthday. But no. His life is too cruel to allow him such easy chances. Now that you’ve vanished into thin air, no one can say if he’ll ever get that chance again.

It’s almost nearing a month and there’s not a single clue about you. Nobody has seen you after Daebi’s birthday. All of your friends confirmed that. And considering how they all agreed upon that you weren’t been mentally strong lately- which is entirely his fault- police have a fat suspicion that you’ve taken your own life.

But Hoseok refuses to believe it. And even though Daebi doesn’t voice it out, he knows that she doesn’t believe it either. You’re safe, and sooner or later someone will find you. He knows that. 

“Yeah, I know baby.” Hoseok plants a soft kiss in her hair. “She’s alive and safe. You don’t have to worry, we’ll find her.” Reassures.

He completely misses how his girlfriend’s face grows even paler.

……………………

a.n- Let's meet with a prequel soon!!!!!!! (And loads of smut *wink*)

..............................................................................................................................

Taglist- @yunhoswrldddd @rjooniesdimples @ttanniett @targaryenluvs @winchesterkenzie @miniesjams32 @bookstoread199 @smokinghotstargirl @likemeforme @sunshinenmidnight

[frid4y]

the big brick frat house that you always pass on your walks to class, seemingly silent during the day time. mainly because your class is at 8 am sharp. but the loud party music and sound of drunk college kids buzzing in your ear after 10 pm every night never goes unnoticed.

you've been inside a few times, always during a party, and while you were on the verge of blackout drunk. your memory is very faint on the boys in the frat, only knowing of the most notorious, satoru gojo. he's the apparently typical whore, the rumors of him fucking everything in sight swirling around. you never took the time to listen, it wasn't any of your business.

until you met him at one of his parties. you got a vibe from him, and it didn't scream slut. although his attempt of it was painfully obvious. the subtle attempts to talk about how rich he was, how he's always partying with girls, how everyone is dying to hang out with him, how "experienced" he was..if this was his way of attracting women, they must all be fucking idiots. and you mayy be one of 'em.

it wasn't until you were in his obnoxiously large bedroom, straddling his muscular thighs in an intense make out session that you realized.. "he's anything but a whore, he's a little virgin..” what made it obvious? his nervousness when you entered his bedroom, his inability to figure out where on your body to keep his hands, and the wet patch forming at the front of his jeans. he came in his pants, just from kissing you.

"o-okay.. i may have exaggerated.. but i can figure it out! i'm a fast learner! just s-show me what to do.." he stammers out, the space between his brows creasing as he stares up at your expression. you giggle at his flustered reaction, i mean.. it was obvious to anyone who paid enough attention past the facade.

"it's okay... for now, just sit there and look pretty. k?" you say, your fingers at the hem of his shirt, lifting it off his upper body. he obediently nods while watching his t-shirt quickly be thrown somewhere in his room. fuck, you were gonna have fun with him.

and that he did, along with his loud incoherent moans and whimpers about how good your pussy feels. satoru lays under you, his eyes glazed over as he stares into your eyes while you ride him. he keeps his hands on your hips to guide you up and down his length, seeing how it was a struggle to get his thick cock inside you. it's always the virgins, isn't it?

“n-nghh, so good..fuck I cantt—be gentle..” satoru whines, his toes curling at the newfound pleasure he’s experiencing. his fingers dig into your skin as he babbles on, his mind foggy and only focused on the feeling of you wrapped around him. his white lashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

his delirious words of encouragement trail into soft moans as his grip slips from your hips to your thighs, using his big hands to guide you along his dick again. his abs flex as he feels your cunt clenching around him, causing his lips to part in pure desire and arousal.

satoru’s moans get louder at every roll and bounce of your hips. his brain is genuinely fried, reduced to base instinct. he whimpers as you slow your movements, feeling every inch of his cock while it throbs inside you. “shit.. j-just like t-that. i’m gonna c-cum baby—don’t stop..” his voice gets higher as his eyes get low and glossy.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck—” is the last thing you hear before you feel his cum fill you, his cock twitching inside you and his hips bucking up to chase the feeling. such weak pullout game. satoru lies there, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high.

“i think i love you-“

[ddejavvu]

more best friend james with no boundaries headcanons please 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 like sirius and remus definitely side eye the two of you but they don’t ever make it noticeable 🫢 they’re just waiting for the two of you to finally get together 😵‍💫 like james definitely rests his hands in between your thighs when he’s cold and remus is always muttering to sirius how that is definitely not best friend behaviour

Sirius and Remus stop in tandem, beat up shoes stomping to a halt in the middle of the floor. It would be comical if their gazes weren't so scrutinizing and judgmental towards you where you're curled up in James's bed.

"Are we interrupting something?" Remus raises a brow at you where you lay pressed to James's chest, his hands wrapped around your waist and tucked into the space between your thighs. He'd been griping about the chill of the air against his hands after realizing they wouldn't stay tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, so when he'd pried your thighs apart to slip his hands between them, you'd let him get his fill of your body heat.

"Jus' the most boring book I've ever read," James drawls, popping his head lazily off of the pillow to stare at his friends, "Don't even know why she reads this shit, anyways."

"I read it because I like it," You hum, used to James's disdain of your more 'boring' (read: not dangerous, reckless, or foolish) hobbies, "But I'm more curious as to why you read it over my shoulder, James, if it's so boring and awful."

"Not much choice," He reasons, but you both know he could shut his eyes if he wanted to be free from your novel, and you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of pressing his hands painfully together as a reprimand.

James makes a sort of stunted groan as his knuckles scrape painfully together, but when you release your grip, he doesn't pull away. He merely settles his head back against the pillow, eyes sneakily roving over the page you're reading.

"Remus, a word." Sirius grabs the man by his right scarred hand, tugging him towards the closet. They disappear inside together, and when the door shuts behind them, and Sirius manages to swat the sleeve of his leather jacket out of his face, he stares at Remus with wide, urgent eyes.

"Did you see that?" Sirius gawps, as if maybe Remus hadn't noticed James's hands resting inches from your core, "That is not normal friend behavior?"

"I bet two galleons they kiss within the month," Remus wagers with a smirk on his face, and the expression is contagious where it transfers to Sirius right away.

"Within the week," Sirius solidifies his stance, holding a hand out for Remus to shake, "You've got a deal, Moony."

--

The moment the closet door shuts behind Remus and Sirius, you crane your neck to look backwards at James.

"They're not even trying to hide it anymore," You breathe, keeping your voice low so that the two boys can't hear you, "What do you think they're doing in there?"

"Kissing, probably," James snorts, "Pulling someone into a closet by the hand is not normal friend behavior."

"When are they just gonna give it up?" You scoff, twisting back around to resume reading, "They're so obvious."

"Dunno, love." James hums, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your shoulder where your tank top has slid off of the skin there. He readjusts his hands between your thighs, nestling them imperceptibly closer to your heated core, "Some people are just oblivious."

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

Being the Hero – the Chosen One – means that the world’s fate is on Elias’ shoulders. He’s long since forgotten how to live for himself, his life belonging to everyone but him. He’s merely a puppet that’s being strung along by the world for the sole purpose of saving it.

At first, he was honored to be chosen as the Hero – it’s a privilege most don’t get. But everyone expects too much – everything – from him. His life is carefully shaped into what others want of him, people only looking at his role and not him as a person.

Now, he fights and saves people due to duty, not desire. There is no sparkle of pride when he helps villagers. Instead, all that is left is another thing checked off of his mental checklist. Now, he just wants to rest. He just wants things to be over.

So that’s why he despised the idea that some Saint from the Church would be his “helper.” Traveling with someone else is only going to slow him down. Not to mention the fact that he doubts the Saint has ever seen bloodshed and disease like he has.

But when he actually meets and travels with you, the Saint, he realizes that you’re actually not that bad. You’re actually kind of nice. He’d expected you to turn your nose at the commoner population, refusing to heal them, but you actively seek them out to help. You’re kind and gentle, but headstrong. Even when you’re visibly exhausted, you do your best to keep going. 

It’s… kind of impressive, actually. He had misjudged you, perhaps.

Even now, you’re helping the knights that were attacked by bandits (which Elias had vanquished), healing not only their bodies but their souls, too. He can’t help but look at you, a raw beacon of kindness that he hasn’t seen before in his travels. 

Once you’re done healing the knights, you look up at him, before a gasp escapes your lips. “Elias!”

He blinks at you, curiously.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Ah.” Elias looks down at his hand, blood dripping down his fingers. He had instinctively grabbed a knife by the blade earlier because he wouldn’t have been able to dodge it in time. “This is nothing.”

“Oh, shush!” you say, approaching him. You push him towards a tree stump, forcing him to sit, which he allows. Carefully, you take his hand in yours, frown deep set on your mouth. Your hand is so warm that it makes his heart burn.

“You’re tired,” he states, bluntly. He doesn’t tug his hand out of yours. “You’ve healed too many people.”

“I can–”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Rest for now, Saint. I am fine.” And he’s right – he’s the Hero, after all. His wounds heal much faster and better than a normal human being. He doesn’t necessarily need your healing.

“Still,” you murmur, looking up at him. “Can I at least clean and bandage it?”

It’s pointless, really, but Elias says, “Do what you want.”

So you do. You disinfect and clean his wound, before carefully wrapping his hand with bandages. For some reason, his heart squeezes painfully as he watches you tend to him so gently. He doesn’t remember if anyone’s ever treated him this kindly.

“There.” You look proud of yourself. It’s kind of cute.

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters without really thinking about it.

You give him a smile that makes his brain stop. “I wanted to. I want to support you.”

For some reason, your words almost make him want to cry. He’s not sure why – he’s seen so much death and destruction to the point that his emotions have become numb. Yet, you bring flickers of his feelings back to him – happiness, sadness, anger, love. 

You make him feel like he has an existence beyond just being the Hero. You make him feel human.

So, how can he let you go? He can’t – and he’ll do everything he can to make you his. Even if it means he has to destroy the world.

[tonycries]

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

Synopsis. He fucks you like he hates you. You didn’t mean to fuck your old friend-with-benefits - truly - it just kinda happened.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Reader, hate sex, ex-friends-with-benefits, slight angst, he’s still in love with you,  unprotected sex, jealous sex (from his side), choking, marking, pet names (my love, sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. Ummmmmmmm yeah. Art by @_3eam on X.

He fucks you like he hates you.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

“Do it then. What? Scared he’ll do it bet-”

Cut off by a pathetic gurgle - his large hand around your throat. Ringed fingers tightening right above your pulse, the cold metal digging into your searing skin. 

Your vision is bleary, blood roaring in your ears as he leans down, muscled front against your back. His breath is hot against your face as he whispers lowly, “Running your mouth a bit too much, my love. You do the same with him as well?”

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to your cunt, pulsing and clenching furiously around his throbbing tip. Teasing your dripping entrance. Unmoving.

Your walls burn, struggling at the stretch of his thick head, yet still wanting the bastard to fucking move. Such a fucking tease. He was always like this - even back when you two were together, but that’s a story for another time.

Turning to glare at him over your shoulder, “So what if I do? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

You’re either an idiot or a mastermind. 

Maybe both. Because you feel his achingly hard cock twitch animalistically inside you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across those kiss-bitten lips you knew too well. You hated how much you wanted them on yours right now. 

“You’re right. I’m not anyone to you.” he murmurs venomously, swiftly capturing the tender skin of your exposed neck, sharp teeth digging into you. Branding you. 

You keen, hips bucking uselessly against his bruising grip on your hips as he pulls away. God, you felt so used - and it made your walls flutter around him so desperately. 

Two long fingers reach up to squeeze your cheeks together mockingly into a pathetic pout, forcing you to look at him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for everyone. Including that little prick you’ve tried to replace me with.”

Your eyes flutter open in shock - you didn’t even realize they were scrunched up - getting lost in the ones boring into yours, half-lidded and pupils blown ferally. Electricity jolts through your body at the pure lust and rage whirling in his intense gaze. 

You two were going to be the deaths of each other.

You two were always going to end up like this.

You’ve barely even finished the thought before his flushed tip is kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

“Hah- Oh, fuck. Fuck you.” Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he sheaths himself completely in you. A low hiss leaves his swollen lips as he pulls out agonizingly slow, inch by inch, prominent veins dragging along your g-spot. 

“Fuck, you sure you hate me? Because this pussy seems like she can’t get enough of me, hm?”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by his rock-hard cock bullying its way back into your snug cunt. He fucks you animalistically, heavy balls stinging your pussy as his cock rams in and out of your hole over and over at a relentless pace. 

Strangled mewls of ah! ah! ah! leave your swollen lips as large fingers presses tight circles into your clit at a merciless rhythm matching the cadence of his hips. 

You mindlessly writhe against him, you felt so full - so split open on his cock. It was too much to handle. He was always too much to take. 

“Now now, don’t hah- run away from me, my love. If you’re going to act like such a fucking slut then take it like one.” he purrs, lip curling into a smug smirk that you wanted to smack off his pretty face. You couldn’t stand him - but you couldn’t get enough of him either.

“I’m not the hah- o-one that runs away. And- hngh- I’m not your ‘love’” you grit, because God forbid you go down without a fight - even when you’re falling apart completely under him.

What else could he have even expected? You always did see through him.

God, did he love that bitchy mouth of yours. 

Huffing out a surprised laugh, he wraps a strong arm around your waist pulling you deeper onto his throbbing cock - grip hard enough that he knows you’ll have marks to remember him by. Not like he planned on letting you ever forget him in the first place.

“You always did know how to push my buttons, huh, my love?” 

“Could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

Fuck that stupid fucking petname. How is it that even after years of not hearing it, his heart still lurches the same as it falls out of your mouth? That annoying, nagging part of his brain wonders if you call him the same thing.

And maybe you could read minds - he wouldn’t be surprised - because you open those pretty lips to say “Though, you’re not my sweetheart anymore, huh?”

Unexplainable anger seethes under his skin in a way that makes him want to claw it off. 

“Fuck you.” he hisses, turning your face so his mouth clashes with yours. It’s all bruising urgency and teeth clashing at the breathless dance of your tongues. 

His cock speeds up it’s abuse on your cunt, fucking you with impatient, harsh thrusts that have his leaking tip kissing your cervix. Had it not been for his firm hand around your throat, you were sure you’d have been slammed into the headboard creaking in protest.

“You drive me fucking insane. Fuck you.”

He hates the whines of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, and how it’s his favorite song.

He hates the tears clinging to your lashes in a way that makes him want to burn down anything that made you cry. Including himself.

He hates the way your cunt clamps down on him as if it hurts to part - he wishes you felt the same.

He hates the way he can’t let you go.

You were perfect, so perfect. Too perfect for him. He was probably better for you - all stability and reassurance where he is nothing but a whirlwind of change. 

In one, fluid move, he’s pulled out of the snug heaven of your dripping cunt - flipping you onto your back to stare into those beautiful eyes that haunt him every night. 

"Let's forget everything else, if just for tonight."

And with those words, he’s back inside you again, ramming into you with purpose. Though his thrusts are as unforgiving as ever, something about the air feels charged with something different. A rawness that both of you would have shied away from. 

“Th-this doesn’t hngh- fix us, y’know.”

“I know, my love.”

His low words muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the bite mark with a tenderness that doesn’t translate into his hips. And you can’t overthink it - because your head is only filled with him and the way your cunt is milking his thick cock so good. 

And later you’ll probably blame your foggy thoughts for the reason why your hands subconsciously wrap around his muscled shoulders, pulling him so impossibly close until you can feel his heartbeat thundering under your touch - in sync with your own. One. Two. Three.

“Ah! Shit. Doing so good, cunt made jus’ f’me. You’re made jus’ f’me.” choked moans leave his throat as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to look into your fucked out eyes. 

“Perfect f’me, my love.”

Maybe at his words - or maybe at his predatory, blown-out gaze - you buck your hips to desperately meet his. Breathless moans of his name leaving your bruised lips.

With a final, purposeful thrust of his cock, he pulls you once more into a familiar, searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. You see stars as you cum, mind barely registering the thick ropes of his seed that fill your quivering cunt.

A low groan leaves him as his cum forms a thick, white ring around his base, dripping down your legs and onto the bedsheets that he knew were your favorite. It was feral - and at least for this moment, it made him feel like yours. 

Some carnal part of him keeps bucking his hips into you as if on instinct, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper the way he would as lovers, his strong arms wrapped around you to keep you from moving away. But he didn’t have to, because right now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Keeping you close. As if he never wanted to let go - both of your bodies a mindless whisper of what your minds craved. 

A delicate intimacy that only your bodies could bring rings in the sex-filled air. And when he finally stops, body collapsing onto yours - he whispers a secret. Meant for only the two of you in this quiet world.

“Fuck me like you still love me.”

Because by God was he in love with you.

- Gojo, TOJI, SUGURU, Atsumu, SUNA, Tsukishima, SAKUSA, EREN

A/N. Maybe I’ll do some fluff next week to make up for this…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae !! i wanted to ask whether you would consider writing poly!marauders where reader has really bad/intrusive nightmares about maybe something bad happening to loved ones/aka the boys? i keep having nightmares at night and when i wake up i’m way too scared to go to sleep again and can barely calm down. it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable though !! 🫂💞

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 776 words

You choke on a gasp as you wake, frantic to escape the hands restraining yours. 

“Hey, hey.” Sirius is holding your wrists to his chest, his grip gentle but strong as he watches you with worried eyes. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.” 

As fast as you’d launched into wakefulness, it takes you a second to realize you’re not in danger. Your muscles slacken gradually. 

“Dove?” Remus croaks from behind you. Sirius continues to look at you with that steady, searching gaze, like he’s making sure you’re well and truly awake. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. “You want the light on?” 

Your face feels very warm. “I’m sorry,” you try to say, but your voice comes out a whimper, followed promptly by a stymied sob. 

You can see Sirius’ expression scrunch painfully even through the blur of tears. You want to tell him that you’re okay, that this is more an aftershock of past upset than anything, but when you open your mouth only another sob emerges. 

“It’s okay,” he shushes you, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re fine, sweetheart. Let’s sit up.” 

He reaches for the lamp while you sit up against the pillows, your knees curling up towards you instinctively. It illuminates the comfortable safety of your room, so different from the horrorscape of the dream you’ve just had, as well as the tired faces of your boyfriends. 

James is fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand while Remus squints into the light, clearly trying to make out your face. Sirius leans against the headboard beside you, taking one of your hands back in his. 

“Bad dream?” he asks, though you already all know the answer. 

You nod anyway. 

Remus makes a sad humming sound. “You were saying something in your sleep. Do you remember what happened?”

“No.” You sniffle. “I don’t know…I don’t remember what happened. Just how it felt.” 

Remus’ brow creases with sympathy. You can see James peering at you from behind him, looking half desperate to crawl across his boyfriend’s lap to get to you, but they know better than to crowd you when you’re like this. For now, Sirius takes the lead. 

He runs his thumb back and forth over your palm. “Do you want to talk about how it felt?” he asks you. 

You chew your lips. “I don’t think so.” 

If possible, his eyes soften further. “Do you want a hug, sweet girl?”

You worry you’re going to sob again. “Yeah,” you manage tightly. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Remus’ arms come around you eagerly. Tender and kind, he rubs your arm and uses one of his hands to bring your head to his chest, pressing a kiss to your hair along with a shapeless murmur. Though you can’t make it out, the sound of his voice is sweet enough to coax another tiny sob from you. 

James makes a sound of distress when he hears it. “Remus, you’re supposed to be making her feel better.” 

“Yeah, what the hell?” Sirius seconds. “Clearly, you’re doing it wrong.” 

Remus chuckles. You feel it rumble through him, and Sirius squeezes your ankle teasingly. 

“Is he making you sadder, baby?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“Mm, prove it.” You look down, and James’ head is resting on Remus’ lap. “Give us a smile.” 

You do your best. You know it has to be watery and awful, but your boyfriend beams up at you nonetheless. 

“There she is.” 

“You two are awful,” says Remus, cupping his hand over your ear protectively. “She doesn’t want your coercive happiness.” 

Sirius hums. He squeezes up your calf until his hand is resting on your knee. “Do you think you’re going to be able to go back to sleep?” he asks you.

You peek at him. “Honestly?”

“Always.” 

“Not really, no.” 

He frowns, but there’s no accusation in it. Just disappointment on your behalf. 

“Okay.” James rolls off Remus’ lap, sitting up. “I have to get ready for training in half an hour anyway. Want to sit with me in the living room until then, angel?” 

You look at him despondently. “Jamie, you don’t have to get up.” 

“No, come on.” He comes around the bed to collect you. Remus lets you go somewhat begrudgingly, allowing you to be tucked under James’ arm. “I’d have been up soon anyway. We’ll let those two sleep, I never get you to myself like this.” 

“There’s to be no kissing while Remus and I are asleep,” Sirius says as Remus reaches around him to turn off the light. 

“Tyrant,” James replies as you leave the room. He brings his face close to yours, scruff tickling your cheek. “Now we have to kiss extra.”

[monstersholygrail]

It made you feel oh so powerful to dominate your big submissive Orc bf. Such a towering and intimidating monster who could completely engulf your plump figure and yet you alone could bring him to his knees.

Usually he always made sure to be your good boy and that power over him was the least you deserved. As years prior during a raid of your camp, you had been your bf’s victory prize. Now if he wanted to keep you he had to win his every orgasm.

He was usually good. Never pulling on his bindings as you used his cock to cum as many times as you desired before allowing him to fill your fat cunt. Always eagerly licking you clean after you cum and never leaving a drop, even if his tongue has you reaching your peak all over again. But sometimes your good boy could be an absolute brat.

He always seemed to struggle under your piercing gaze as you ordered him to keep eye contact when he finally reaches climax. Always at the last minute throwing his head back with a loud moan and depriving you of seeing the full effect you have on him.

So you did what you must to ensure proper punishment is given. You order a pair of nipple clamps that attach tightly your bf’s tusks from one of the orcs in the clan, ensured that they’ll get unbearably taught if your bf jerks his head back even the slightest.

Your Orc bf’s eyes were wide when he set his gaze on the new toy. But he loves and trusts you enough to take care of him no matter what. There was even a stir of excitement in his belly as you put them on.

They prove better for the both of you than either of you could’ve imagined. The clamps tugging on your bf’s pert nipples every time he throws his head back in pleasure as you ride him with reckless abandon, taking his cock harder than you ever have.

His body jerks, driving his cock deep inside your cunt, each time the clamps tighten, bringing an addictive combination of pleasure and pain for you and your bf. You ride your bf even harder, wanting to drive him to the edge of madness and have him take you with him.

You both release an endless chorus of moans and cries of pleasure, your bodies shaking with the effort and yet neither of you can stop, desperately chasing your release. Your pussy spasms, fluttering around his length and your bf grunts to let you know he’s close.

“Look at me, love,” you demand, your gaze as fierce as you can make it when your bf is relentlessly stuffing you full of cock.

His eyes threaten to roll back and you grip his jaw, bringing his attention back to you.

“Look. At. Me. Cum now,” you demand a second before your own orgasm blazes through you.

Your jaw drops in a silent scream as your bf jackhammers into your gushing cunt, making you clench around him so hard he immediately shoots his load inside you, still not able to stop himself from throwing his head back.

A loud anguished cry rips from his lips as the clamps painfully squeeze his nipples for all they’re worth. Which only makes him cum harder as he pumps more and more inside you till your tummy begins to distend.

Pulling down his face by the tusks, you fix him with your fiercest disapproving glare. Letting him know just how upset you are that he disobeyed you.

Your bf pouts at you, his big orc eyes giving you a puppy dog look of its own kind. His hand slips down and starts rubbing at your clit, making you moan. Trying to sweeten you up as much as possible despite knowing his punishment is inevitable.

“Don’t worry, you’ll do better next time,” you say breathlessly, sending chills up your bf’s spine. Realizing that this new toy will be put to a lot of use until he can be your good boy again and listen.

[earlysunshines]

love at your door

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you wake up on the couch to find out that it’s actually not your couch and oh my god why is your hot neighbor sitting across from you watching tv???

warnings: sana is a FLIRT ; reader is a loser ; sana is a losersexual ; pacing is iffy but it’s bc i wanted it to be short ; alcohol ; anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread so prob spelling errors idk i wrote most on my phone

a/n: based off the time i got drunk and fell asleep in the wrong room… anyways my love for sana will NEVER DIE guess who’s BACK.

you wake up with a groan, face smushed against a cushion that's definitely not yours, and the first thing that hits you—aside from the dull pounding in your head—is the faint sound of a tv playing in the background. 

slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. you finally realize you’re not in your room, and the couch you're sprawled out on… also not yours.

you sit up too quickly and regret it immediately, head spinning, the room around you momentarily blurred. but then it sharpens, and your heart nearly stops when you spot her. sana, your neighbor—your gorgeous, gorgeous neighbor that you’ve been eyeing since you moved in—sitting across from you on her armchair, completely unbothered with her legs tucked underneath her, eyes fixed on the tv but clearly aware you’re awake now. 

she’s holding a ceramic mug in one hand, and for some reason, that little detail makes everything so much worse.

because—how did you end up here?

you glance down at yourself and, of course, you’re still in your luigi costume from last night. the tight green tank top clings to you under the denim overalls (one strap purposely loose and falling off your shoulder because you’re desperate for attention in these trying times) which you had decided to wear in some ill-fated attempt to look “hot” while still committing to the theme. you had succeeded, at least you think, judging from the compliments you vaguely remember through the drunken haze of the halloween party. but now, under sana’s gaze, you suddenly feel a lot less confident about it.

“jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together what happened. “what—”

“morning sleepy,” sana says, finally looking over at you, lips curling into a small, amused smile. “you came stumbling in after the party. i figured it was safer to let you crash here than send you back to your place like that.”

this has to be a nightmare.

her voice is casual, like this isn’t completely mortifying for you. like this isn’t the exact scenario your sleep-deprived, engineering-major brain has dreamed up in countless fleeting moments when you’ve caught glimpses of her in the hallways (well, you figured you’d be in a less embarassing scene) but now it’s real, and your heart is thudding painfully loud in your chest, and you can’t decide if you want to disappear or if you never want to leave.

(the first option might be the smartest)

you clear your throat, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your hands. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean to crash here like that. i must’ve been drunk out of my mind i— fuck, nayeon, that bitch… im sorry my friends they’re—“

“don’t worry about it,” she waves off your apology, taking a sip from her mug, her gaze briefly dipping down to your outfit before flicking back to your face. “i never knew luigi could look this good.” she adds, a smirk playing on her face that renders you weak.

you feel heat rise to your face instantly, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just the aftermath of all the alcohol you consumed last night. her words hang in the air, teasing, but there’s something else in her tone that sends a jolt through you. something that makes you suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you feel, the snug fit of the tank top and the way her eyes had lingered on your exposed skin just for a second.

“uh—” you start, but your voice comes out strained, so you clear your throat again, scrambling for a response. “thank you…?”

she grins at your awkwardness, a soft, almost mischievous smile that only adds to the rising tension in the room. “you’re welcome.”

you force a laugh, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes your skin tingle. “right, well… thanks for, uh, taking care of me. and not letting me do something even more embarrassing.”

“more embarrassing than this?” sana raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. she gestures toward your outfit with a nod, and you can’t help but huff a laugh this time, the tension breaking just a little.

“point taken,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the couch to stand, only for a wave of dizziness to hit. sana’s on her feet in a second, steadying you with a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm.

“easy,” she murmurs, and you freeze, suddenly way too aware of how close she is. her hand lingers just a second too long, and when she finally lets go, you feel like you can breathe again—but it doesn’t stop your pulse from racing.

her eyes dart down to the base of your neck and the intensity of her gaze is amplified.

“quite a hickey, huh?”

“what?” you had to be drunk drunk. you can’t recall anything about kissing girls, you’re not the type to be like that when under the influence. “that’s— i can’t even remember.”

“had fun, didn’t you?” sana looks back into your eyes, making you shrink despite her smaller frame. you feel sorry, you want to apologize for something you can’t even remember—you have no clue why. she’s just your neighbor. she’s the neighbor down the hall that greeted you kindly when you had moved in to town. the same neighbor that you had to blink multiple times at before realizing she’s not a fairytale princess that’s creeped out of the books.

you glance at the door, needing an escape, even though a very large part of you doesn’t want to leave just yet. but standing in her living room in yesterday’s clothes with your head still buzzing is doing nothing for your nerves.

“i should, uh, probably go,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the door.

sana steps back, giving you space, but her expression shifts into something playful as she watches you. “right. but hey—if you ever need a place to crash again, my couch is always open.”

you blink, not sure if she’s joking or if there’s more to that offer. but before you can overthink it, you nod, mumbling a quick, “thanks, i’ll keep that in mind,” before heading for the door.

and just as you’re about to step out, sana calls after you, her voice teasing, warm. “hey, luigi.”

you pause, turning to look at her.

she leans casually against the doorframe, eyes glinting with that same playfulness, and she gives you a slow, once-over before her lips curve into a smirk. “seriously. never knew luigi could be this hot.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and all you can do is laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, before quickly slipping out the door, your mind buzzing as you head back to your place.

sana always caught your eye, but now… now you’re pretty sure you’re never going to stop thinking about her.

—

the whole day you’re quite literally losing your mind. as soon as you crash onto your bed when you get back home, you cringe at how much of an idiot you are, and at the fact that you accepted every single drink handed to you by nayeon.

and then the next day, you’re still replaying the entire morning in your head—how sana’s words lingered, the way her eyes had flickered over you with that teasing smile. it’s been driving you to distraction all day. you couldn’t focus during class, barely heard a word your professor said, and by the time your last lecture ends, you’ve come to a decision.

you’re going to do something about it.

(you’re undeniably an idiot, but everyone in your circle knows that anyway.)

so after class, you stop by the small flower shop near campus. it’s not something you’d typically do—flowers and chocolate, that’s so cliché, right? but somehow it feels like the right move. sana had caught you completely off guard yesterday, and maybe it’s time you do the same.

you have a small conversation with the florist, who recommends her favorite assortment of tulips. you don’t want to do too much, so you settle with yellow tulips, their petals delicate and bright. simple, but thoughtful (you hope).

next, you pick out a small box of chocolates, nothing fancy but enough to show you’ve put some real thought into this. because somehow, leaving things the way they were feels unfinished.

you can’t possibly just leave it like that, you can’t have the only real memory and meaningful interaction between you and sana consist of you flat out drunk and at a loss for words.

you’re already a loser as it is, and especially when sana is around—whether that’s when you two both end up at the mailbox together, with you losing the ability to speak when she simply smiles and compliments you; and also the simple greetings when you two arrive at around the same time on wednesday’s and thursdays (not that you take note of it—you definitely do). 

when you get home, you scribble out a short note on a small card:

hi sana,  

thanks for letting me crash on your couch yesterday. i’m really, really sorry. 

here’s a little something as a thank you. hope you like tulips.

and chocolate.

– luigi 

you read it over twice, fighting the nervous energy bubbling up inside you. it’s playful, casual, but maybe—hopefully—it’ll make her smile. you take the flowers, chocolates, and the note, placing everything neatly in a small brown paper bag before heading down the hall.

when you reach her doorstep, your heart is pounding. you place the bag gently on the ground, adjusting the flowers one last time so they look perfect. then, you take a deep breath and knock, firm but quick, before spinning on your heel and rushing back to your own place.

you barely make it through the door before the nerves fully hit. your heart races, and you lean back against the door, letting out a heavy breath. what if she doesn’t like it? what if it’s too much?

but before your thoughts spiral too far, you hear the faint sound of her door opening down the hall, followed by the quiet shuffle of her picking up the bag.

there’s silence for a bit before you hear the door close again, earning a sigh of relief.

if your friends were to find out literally everything that had happened in the span of less than forty-eight hours, they’d tease you until you had to move out again.

—

the next night, you’re at your desk, buried in the engineering assignment youve been given that same day. something about fluid dynamics, a dense problem set that has you scribbling equations and checking graphs on your laptop. it’s not exactly easy to focus—your mind keeps wandering back to sana, the flowers, the chocolates, and really just everything about her. every time you think about her, a small smile tugs at your lips, despite the headache that’s building from the workload.

then, out of nowhere, you hear a knock at the door.

you blink, glancing at the clock. you’re not expecting anyone, and for a second, you wonder if you imagined it. but when the knock repeats, you push your chair back, setting aside your notes. still a little distracted by the assignment, you take your time getting up, stretching briefly before finally heading to the door.

when you open it, there’s no one there. just silence, the hallway empty. but as you glance down, you spot something on the floor—a folded piece of paper. your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but grin as you bend down to pick it up, already knowing who it’s from.

you unfold the note, and sana’s handwriting greets you:

so, you’re kinda cute even in that luigi costume—i couldn’t stop thinking about you

(i think you’re cute in uniform and not) 

though i have to ask—what’s with the hickey? did luigi have a little too much fun?  ;)

anyway, i liked the flowers. i liked the chocolates too. 

but i think i like the person giving them more.

you should come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. i mean, you weren’t that shy the other night ;)  

– sana <3

your face heats up instantly as you read the hickey line, hand instinctively reaching to touch your neck. there’s no way, right? you don’t remember—

then it hits you. fuck. it wasn’t a hickey. nayeon had bullied you about how you ran into something that night at her party, some broom? wall? maybe momo elbowed you? or something. you’re not the type to just fuck random girls, not when you’re loyal to your neighbor that you utter maybe three sentences a week to if you’re lucky. but the thought of what had happened that night isn’t even important because now your mind’s racing, thinking about how sana’s teasing you. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you all giddy and nervous.

you reread the note, feeling that familiar nervous excitement grow. come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. your pulse picks up. there’s no way you’re saying no to that.

without bothering to change out of your hoodie and sweats, you grab your keys, locking the door behind you as you head down the hall. your heart’s still racing, and your mind’s swirling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you stop in front of sana’s door.

when she opens it, she’s standing there with that same playful smirk—sultry, seductive, and somehow so cute at the same time. her eyes gleam like she already knows exactly what’s going through your mind. 

"took you long enough," she says, stepping aside to let you in, her voice warm, teasing. "for a second, i thought you’d be too shy to show up."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head as you walk inside, glancing around her apartment again. “i’m– i’m not.” it sounds unconvincing, but the woman in front of you thinks it’s adorable.

she quirks a brow, then smiles at that, closing the door behind you. "good to know." she says, handing you a small glass of wine and suddenly everything is a little bit too intimate. 

the two of you end up sitting on her couch, the tv still softly playing in the background like it had been the other morning. the conversation flows easily—there’s that natural comfort between you now, even with the teasing tension that lingers under the surface.

she talks about herself and you talk about yourself too, piquing both your interests. small talk grows into something bigger and you two enjoy the newfound information you’re both learning about each other. you’re breaking the ice, maybe easing into the cold waters in comparison to splashing into it.

“so, about that hickey,” she says, leaning back into the couch, her grin widening as she glances pointedly at your neck. her leg crosses over the other and she holds the glass in her hand near her lips, a small smirk tugging at one corner. “i’m just saying, it looks a little suspicious.”

you roll your eyes, your face heating up again. “it’s not a hickey. i swear.”

“uh-huh,” she teases, clearly not letting it go. “sure it’s not.”

“apparently i hit a broom or wall—something like that.” you shake your head, laughing lightly, but there’s an undeniable pull between you two. 

the way she looks at you, the way her smile lingers a little too long, and the way her knee brushes against yours every now and then—you have to hold yourself back from saying and doing a lot of things. it’s in the way her voice lowers when she speaks, soft and reeling.

you spend the next hour just talking, laughing, sharing random stories about classes, her teasing you about your engineering homework, and you teasing her back about her terrible taste in tv shows. every time she smiles or laughs, it feels like a small victory, something you want to keep chasing. and every time you speak her eyes are in deep contact with yours, spiking your heartrate without fail.

eventually, the conversation lulls, and there’s a moment of quiet where she looks at you, her eyes softening just slightly. “you know,” she murmurs, “i’m really glad you came over. this… was nice.”

“yeah,” you say, smiling back, your heart racing in your chest. “it was.”

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says before sipping on her white wine, “but i’m not a chaser.”

“is that right?”

“unless you count me responding to your apology, then yes.”

you laugh, setting the empty glass down. 

“well,” you begin, biting your lip. “i like to pursue.”

“quite forward isn’t it?”

“you invited me over for wine, it doesn’t get more forward than what you’ve brought to the table.”

“is that so?” sana hums, tilting her head. she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “i think it can get more forward.”

your breath hitches in the slightest and you can tell sana’s noticed when she lets out that signature chuckle. 

“well, i think it’s time to end the night. you were working on assignments prior, no?” you frown at the suggestion.

“i— yeah, you’re right.” 

there’s a knowing smile on her lips, but you ignore it and stand up with her as she walks you to her door. 

“i had a great time pretty girl,” she puts her hand on your forearm while saying it, her touch burning your skin. “hopefully we can be much more forward next time.”

you laugh. “i like the sound of that.”

“mhm, goodnight.” she says, grinning at you before meekly closing her door.

you purse your lips before walking down the hall and reaching your door. your hand lingers on the doorknob before you turn it and head in, feeling a sense of regret.

…

sana hears a knock at her door ten minutes later, turning off the sink and drying her hands before walking over to see what’s up. 

the moment the door opens and sana sees you standing there, the look on her face is priceless.

“what—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused, but before she can finish, you step forward, your hand reaching out to grab her forearm gently. you pull her just a little closer, your heart pounding as you look at her.

“i want to be more forward,” you admit, voice low, the question hanging in the space between you.

for a second, she just stares at you, wide-eyed, before a soft laugh escapes her. she gets it now. “oh, we’re moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “take me out to dinner.”

you grin, and she hesitates for a beat, but then she nods, and it’s enough—enough to send your pulse racing, enough for you to lean in. before you can close the distance, though, her hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing the base of your neck, and you feel her shiver as she touches you.

“you say that like,” you pause, observing the surprise and allure in her features. “like you didn’t eye-fuck me the other night.”

her cheeks flush as her fingers linger on your skin, and you catch the way she bites her lip, trying to hide her own smile. you don’t wait any longer.

you lean in and meet her lips with yours, melting into it just as she does. 

it starts soft, just a gentle press of your lips against hers, but it quickly deepens as sana lets out a quiet, surprised sound that turns into something more—something she’s clearly enjoying a little too much. her hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the way she kisses you back sends a thrill through you.

before you know it, she’s dragging you inside, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other guiding you back toward the couch. the door closes behind you, but you barely notice, too focused on the way her lips move against yours.

when you finally pull back for air, she’s breathless, grinning like she’s just won something. “you should’ve been this forward earlier,” she teases, her thumb brushing against the side of your neck.

“yeah?” you ask, a little breathless yourself, but you can’t stop smiling.

“yeah,” she murmurs, eyes flickering down to your lips before she leans in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. sana is a great kisser, the type of kisser that leaves you wanting more and more. after a moment, she pulls back, just enough to whisper, “maybe you should stay a little longer.”

you can’t help but laugh softly. “you sure you can handle that?”

“please,” she says, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous look. “you weren’t that shy the other night.”

“well i was drunk and—“

before you can even finish your response, she’s kissing you again, and this time, you’re more than happy to let her pull you even closer.