#this gif is everything to me. EVERYTHING. to me

[captain-will]

LMFAOO @silkdamask-blog

So today I watched this interview with the Star Trek: The Next Generation cast and they demonstrate the phenomenon "space ship acting"

and they all go

and it just cracks me up, ESPECIALLY Sir Patrick Stewart

[bunnis-monsters]

Becoming the Queen

Bee hybrids x Fem!Reader

warning: oviposition, orgy, breeding, oral

WK: 5k

A/N: I hope this is alright for a Valentine’s Day special… this is a commission, hehe. The lovely members on kofi got to see this 2 weeks early ><

It was early, the grass you trudged through to get to work still wet with the morning dew. You never truly enjoyed waking up before the sun rose, but you loved what you did and could never give it up.

You were a florist, owning the only flower shop in the county. People from all over would come to buy a bouquet, and you were up to your head in flower arrangements by the late afternoon.

Some customers were kind, tipping you well and making sure their flowers were well taken care of. Others got on your very last nerve, daring to say your flowers seemed old or wilted.

It took everything in you not to leap over the counters. You could take people insulting you, but no one could insinuate that your flowers weren’t perfect. You grew them yourself, preening and watering them to perfection.

As you neared your flower shop, you noticed there were more customers than usual waiting outside. Usually most of your sales happened after 10 am, not so early in the day.

But as you took out your keys and looked up, you realized that not all of them were there for flowers.

One of your windows was broken, shards of glass covering the floor and a bit of blood staining the windowsill. Something has smashed through the glass!

And from taking one look into your shop, you realized that they hadn’t just broken your window.

Bouquets lay strewn across the cool tiles, petals blowing in the wind as you opened the door. Someone or something had been in your shop and had ruined your carefully arranged bouquets.

A shard of one of your potted plants crunched under your foot as you took in all the damage that had been done. It would set you back several weeks.

“Damn it…”

Although it frustrated you to no end, you brushed off your skirt and set off to the back, grabbing a broom and getting to work.

After getting the mess up and opening up the shop, you tried your best not to think about what destroyed your inventory. You focused on your work instead. It was always easy to lose yourself in a good book while waiting on your next customer, but today your mind kept wandering back to potential culprits.

There were a group of teenagers that vandalized a restaurant a block away last week. At the local boba place, someone had been stealing the boba and straws. It wasn’t unthinkable that the other incidents may be related to what happened earlier that morning.

You closed the shop for the night, sighing as you zipped up your hoodie. It was way too cold, you’d have to bring your coat tomorrow if you planned on being out this late.

It couldn’t be helped, you had to stay after closing to contact clients and refer them to other florists that could get their arrangements done now that the ones you prepared were ruined.

Thankfully, most of your clients were kind enough to overlook it, but you received a few earfuls that you couldn’t complain about. At least they weren’t leaving a bad review…

The night air made you shiver. You rubbed your arms and continued on home, dreading tomorrow. There was so much work you’d have to redo, and money you would lose out on.

‘I hope there’s going to be enough money left over for me to pay my bills this month…’

You were stirred from your thoughts when you felt a chill go down your spine. For a moment you just assumed it was the frigid temperatures making you feel this way, but something was off.

The world around you was quiet. The way home had sparse light, and before that night you had never been afraid of the dark. It comforted you, in fact.

But as you froze in the middle of the path, your heart thumping against your chest, you realized that there was a sound that drowned out everything else. You hadn’t noticed it at first, and now it was almost unbearably loud.

A buzzing filled the air, and you quickly had to cover your ears as it only increased in volume.

You picked up something else, the smell of honey. Slowly, you opened your eyes.

It took a moment to fully comprehend what was before you. There were several humanoid silhouettes surrounding you, and their outlines were… fluffy?

“Is this really her?”

“Yes, I told you she was soft!”

“And she makes the flowers bloom?”

“Yes, yes!”

A hand reached out to tilt your chin up, and you were face to face with some kind of insect-like creature. It was taller than any man you had ever seen, with big black eyes and yellow… fluff? Fuzz? You weren’t sure, but these things didn’t have normal human skin.

“Ah, she’s just as pretty as you said.”

The other creatures let out a satisfied buzz, encircling you. They all seemed rather curious and excited, lifting up parts of your clothing and examining you.

“H-hey!”

When you yelped, they all backed off, seeming confused and a little hurt. “Wh… what the hell are you… things? Why are you following me!?”

The leader stepped forward again, a bit sheepish but understanding. “Sorry… we saw how upset you were about the mess we made and-“

“You all caused that mess!?”

They all let out whines and upset buzzes as you groaned. The entire day had been a nightmare you’d wake up from soon. It had to be.

“I’m going to bed…”

You moved past the group, but they followed after you, seeming concerned and nervous.

“But you’re coming with u-“

His mouth was covered by another’s hand. “We’re sorry for the mess. Please, we’ll help repay you tomorrow. So… don’t be too angry.”

It was hard to stay too angry with them, they sounded genuinely remorseful and a touch sad. “… alright, but you’ll need to be here early tomorrow.”

You went to bed, figuring that this would all be over once you had a good night of sleep. There were no strange bee-like creatures in your front yard, no difficult messes to deal with, just a bad dream.

Unfortunately you were very wrong.

Walking outside with your hot coffee and sporting your pajamas, you were met with several expectant faces.

“You’re awake!”

You stood there for a moment, blinking sluggishly before staring down at your coffee. After blinking a few times, you breathed in and out.

“So… you are real then.”

The creatures were bee hybrids, a species you heard about before. Hybrids weren’t exactly uncommon, but it was rare for insect based hybrids to leave their hives or nests to interact with humans.

They did keep their promise and help you prepare bouquets the entire day, pollinating your flowers and following after you baby ducklings with their mother.

Unbeknownst to you, the bees had been watching you for a while.

It started when they lost their queen.

For months she had been bedridden, and no eggs were laid. Of course, the bee hybrids were much more concerned about their beloved queen than eggs, but she was beside herself with worry.

“Who will take care of you when I’m gone?”

The queen knew she was well past her egg bearing years and was going to die soon. After all, what purpose did a queen have when she couldn’t expand the hive?

“Don’t say things like that, your majesty. You won’t leave us…”

They were stricken with grief after her passing, nearly a year went by before they even considered a new queen.

Their last one had been a bee hybrid born in that very hive. Wanting to keep the tradition of raising a new queen wasn’t possible since she had only ever birthed sons.

Not wanting to take the chance of foreign bee hives trying to spy on them by giving them a female, the bee hybrids looked elsewhere for their next queen.

You happened to be a perfect match.

Not only were you beautiful and plump as a good queen should be, your kind nature and gentle heart told them you would be an amazing mother to the little ones.

The only problem was getting you to the hive.

“She’s so pretty, I love her…” said one of the bee hybrids, his wings fluttering as he watched you remove the thorns from some roses.

“She is. I want to stuff her full of my e-“

The others turned red and buzzed at the horny bee. “H-hey, don’t talk about the queen like that!”

“But that’s what everyone’s thinking…”

The worker bees pouted, flying around you and offering pollen or honey. The guards watched from afar.

Most of the bee hybrids were not what you would call… intelligent. But there were some that ran the show and made all of the important decisions.

“We’ll take her soon. Our hive needs a queen, and if we don’t get one soon, everyone will go mad. We need a queen to mate and protect, it’s what keeps us calm,” said one of the guards, his stinger twitching and ready to attack.

“But she loves working with the flowers. What if we put a strain on her mind? If she is unwell, our hive will suffer with her.”

That was true, the bee hybrids’ productivity and mental well being depended on you. If you were depressed, they would be as well. Not only that, they’d be constantly trying to cheer you up and become worse if you remained in that state for too long.

“I think I know what we can do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

~

You had never felt so tired in your entire life. The day hadn’t been so tough, but as you closed your eyes to go to bed, suddenly your body felt so heavy that you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get up.

Sleep took you, and when you woke up everything seemed… different.

Your usually stiff bed felt incredibly soft, your body melting into the plush material.

“Ugh…”

The moment you let out a groan, you heard the sound of buzzing and frantic voices.

“The queen is awake!”

“Oh, my queen are you alright?”

“Hurry, prepare her breakfast and bring the towels for the bath!”

You rubbed your eyes as you listened to the bustling around you. When your vision was no longer blurry, you could hardly believe what you were seeing.

No longer were you in your small bedroom in your modest home by the forest. The walls of your room were shaped like a honeycomb… no, they were a honeycomb. You could even see the amber colored liquid pooling at the bottom as some bee hybrids scooped it up.

You were laid out on a king sized bed, with thick blankets and plush pillows surrounding you like some kind of nest.

Surrounding you was a swarm of bee hybrids. Some were teeming with excitement and giddy energy, while others peeked around their fellow hybrids with curiosity. The ones closest to you, though, seemed a mix of concerned and nervous, fretting over you.

“Oh, what if she isn’t feeling well? Should we give her some honey?”

“Breakfast first, she can have honey on toast or biscuits.”

“Humans really eat honey in that way?”

While you struggled to get your bearings, they continued to flit about the room doing various things to acclimate you.

“Where… am I?”

Every single one of the bee hybrids paused, their attention solely on you. Several whispered among themselves as their gaze stayed on your plump figure.

“You’re home, my queen.”

A taller, less fluffy bee hybrid walked forward, his expression neutral. He kneeled before you, taking your hand and raising it to his mouth for a kiss.

“Q-queen? What do you-“

All at once they all rushed forward to dote on you. Your body was covered in kisses, and you could feel their soft fluff almost everywhere.

“My queen, we’re so happy!”

“We promise you’ll have a good life here, no more stress or worry!”

Gentle nips and bites were pressed into your sensitive neck and thighs, hands moving to caress and grope all of your body.

You were still groggy, and immediately began to warm up when one hand found its way to your inner thigh. When you let out a startled moan, the bees on the bed began to buzz and focus on that spot.

“Our queen is sensitive!”

A few of them pried your thighs open, inspecting your bare cunt and giving it a few experimental touches and licks. Had they undressed you beforehand?

Their tongues were long and thin, delicate against your slowly hardening clit. You could tell they were all excited by the way their buzzing increased and their bodies shook.

Your scent filled the air, attracting more bee hybrids from the hall. The ones on the bed touched and fondled your sleepy body as the others watched from the sidelines.

Your face heated up when you realized they were stroking their cocks, their eyes glued on your body and the way it was being played with by their peers.

There was no chance to react or cry out in protest, you were being too overwhelmed by pleasure. One of their tongues entered your cunt, making your eyes widen and your fists clench the silk bed sheet underneath you.

“She likes that, don’t stop.”

You felt one of them latch onto your breasts, their long tongue swirling around your nipple. Their antennae tickled your face, and you felt completely overstimulated.

Every touch made you twist and buck your hips, it was hard to control yourself. Never before had you felt such intense pleasure, and it was making you see stars.

‘This has to be some sort of wet dream…’ you thought to yourself, squishing your plush thighs together. ‘Might as well enjoy it…’

“Is she ready yet?” one of them cooed, nuzzling their fluffy face against your neck.

“Not for eggs, but…”

The others backed off, and a smaller, more feminine looking bee hybrid climbed on top of you. He was still at least half a foot taller than you, but tiny compared to the others.

“H-hello, my queen…” he chirped shyly, giving your cheek an affectionate nuzzle. “I’ll be the one to mate with you first…”

He was even fluffier than the others, and his cock was already twitching against your thigh. It was more long than thick, and had a pinkish, orange color.

You reached out to touch it, your fingers wrapping around his length. This made the smaller bee hybrid gasp, his hips bucking wildly in surprise.

The other hybrids stepped closer, buzzing with both excitement and jealousy. Already, the single male was receiving all of your attention… they all wanted a turn!

Fortunately for you, they had been ordered to give you space. This would be your first time with a bee hybrid, and if they weren’t careful, they could end up hurting their precious queen.

Your health and well being meant more to them than anything else.

“M-my queen, ahh!”

His eyes glistened with flustered tears as you stroked his cock, honey colored precum seeping out of the tip. You couldn’t remember the last time you had pleasured yourself.

If this was a dream, you were going to have fun.

You laid on your back, pulling the hybrid in by his hips. It was clear out of the two of you, he was the one lacking experience.

“Oh, you’re so pretty my queen-“ he blubbered out, his hips rutting against yours as his cock settled between your pussy lips. You could feel his tip kissing your clit, and it was enough to have you both let out a shuddering moan.

“Mmph…”

You kissed him, letting his long tongue slip down your throat as you moved your hand to guide his cock towards your entrance.

The moan he let out in your mouth as he sunk into your fat cunt was sinful, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed several of the bees were fucking their fists to the sight of you being fucked by one of their own.

“T-too good! I’m gonna-“

His cum spurted into your womb, he was finishing before he could even properly thrust in and out of you. You were going to whine about it, but something caused you to pause your complaints.

While his cock twitched inside of you, it swelled up, and before you could question what was happening, eggs began to pool into your womb along with his cum.

The feeling of them being fucked into you, stretching your pussy out as the eggs were laid inside of you made your head spin.

Your pussy clenched around the eggs, and before you knew it you were cumming harder than you ever had before. You arched your back, tears running down your cheeks as you rode out your high.

By the end of it, you were a mess. Cum from both you and the bee hybrid pooled around your thighs, soaking into the expensive feeling sheets.

“This… isn’t a dream, is it?”

The hybrid gathered around you, some cooing over your spent, naked body while others were desperate to have their hands on you.

“It’s no dream, my queen!”

“We all love you!”

“Let’s get you to the bath, you deserve to relax!”

You let out a tired sigh as you were carried away. The tub was nearly as big as your bedroom back home, and several of the bees joined you in the warm, pleasantly scented water.

You could smell fresh flowers and honey, and you let out a sigh of relief when several pairs of hands went to work massaging your sore muscles. A pair of two slipped between your thighs, toying with your sensitive clit and feeling around to make sure all of the eggs were safe and sound inside of you.

“Is the water warm enough, my queen?”

Hands cupped your breasts, giving them a playful squeeze before rubbing honey scented soap into them. “Mmph, yes, it’s good…”

You glanced down at your belly, noticing it poked out slightly. The memory of how the eggs felt being pushed inside of you made your cheeks heat up.

This was all a lot to process. If this wasn’t a dream like you had originally assumed, then that meant you had been taken away to a bee hybrid hive and made into a queen.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions…” another bee said, giving you a sympathetic look. “But you don’t have to worry, we’ll cater to your every want and need. You’ll never want for anything.”

Deciding a fight wasn’t worth it, you sunk back into the warm water, letting yourself be pampered and taken care of for now.

“… I want to talk to whoever is in charge here.”

The two hybrid bathing you shared a look before speaking.

“That would be you, my queen.”

You placed a hand on your temple, rubbing it before replying. “I mean, who decided that I would be queen? Surely someone here has been making decisions regarding the hive while there was no queen.”

A silence fell over the room, the only sound being the water droplets falling from your skin.

“Well… I guess that would be the council. Are you requesting a meeting with the council, my queen?”

You nodded, and the two stood before getting you dried off and dressed. They were obedient, doing exactly as you asked. “Are you sure, my queen? You still need your breakfast and-“

“I’m sure, take me to the council.”

The walls of the hive were made of honeycomb, unsurprisingly. Each section contained a bee hybrid that was hard at work, making honey while chattering amongst themselves.

“Haven’t you heard, Bumble? There’s a new queen, and she’s a pretty one too!”

“Yeah, she’s already had her first batch of eggs too!”

“That’s not fair, I wanted to give the queen my eggs first!”

You avoided making eye contact with them, your cheeks hot with embarrassment again. It flustered you to know their words were causing your panties to grow wet.

Hiding was useless, though. The scent of your arousal caused the bee hybrids near you to react. Their antennas twitched while their cocks hardened the second your scent reached them. It was an immediate reaction that had you hiding within the safety of your guards as you were escorted to the council.

“My queen, what brings you here?”

You stood before the council, looking up at their pleasantly surprised faces. There were around 30 of them, all sitting in a half circle. Papers were piled next to each bee, and even while their full attention was on you, their hands still moved to work on the papers in front of them.

‘Busy and a bee’ was a phrase you heard a lot growing up, and as you watched them flit about the room, writing and shouting orders all while keeping their eyes on you, it finally dawned on you how accurate it was.

“I came here with questions. My first one is why am I here?”

They paused their work for a moment, and some shooed away any bees that weren’t in the council before shutting the doors.

“… as you may know, bee hybrid hives consist mainly of males,” one of the council members began, standing and walking towards you.

“Female bees are not born often, meaning that we cannot run a hive without… taking a female on as our queen,” another finished, setting aside a stack of finished papers.

“It’s also a great way to diversify the hive and prevent… inbreeding.”

You raised an eyebrow as the bee hybrid stood in front of you. He was nearly 10 feet tall, and crouched down in front of you, taking your hand before kissing the back of it.

When he looked into your eyes, they sparkled with devotion. “Our undercover agents have been watching you for months. You’re kind, and you love nature. You must know that without a queen, our hive will die out within a year.”

It was hard to look away from his dark orbs. The way he looked at you made your heart race.

“I know that we took you away without asking, but we cannot let you go. Please know that you will be treated with the utmost care, and you will be pampered beyond belief.”

For a moment you stayed quiet, your expression softening. “… what would be expected of me as queen?”

The entire council perked up, some leaping out of their seats in excitement without warning. They quickly returned to their work when the leader gave them a warning glance.

“You only have a handful of responsibilities each day. You greet the public, bond with the children, attend diplomatic meetings, and… breed with your loyal subjects to create your children.”

Your face heated up at the memory of your morning session with the pretty bee hybrid.

“And… I do these every day?”

They nodded. “Diplomatic meetings are less frequent, but everything else is daily.”

Daily… you’d get fucked like that daily?

‘Am I really going to abandon the life I’ve been living for the past few years just to get a good fuck and some pampering?’

Yes. Yes you were.

“Alright… I’m in. Not like I have much of a choice in the matter anyways…”

The bees surrounding you let out happy whines and buzzes. You were surrounded once again, being nuzzled and pulled into fluffy chests. They were all scenting you, obviously happy you were going to be their queen of your own free will.

“Then let’s get you some breakfast, my queen. You have much to do!”

Breakfast was filled with lots of chattering among your current attendants. They were fluffy, jealous things that lounged about in your quarters, burying their faces into your soft body and gossiping amongst themselves.

Once you were done eating, you were escorted to your first duty as queen.

“I hope your royal attendants behaved well. They are just excited to have a queen to dote on again. If you have any sexual needs or desires, they will perform them for you. And do not worry, they cannot produce eggs, so they exist purely for your pleasure and entertainment.”

It seemed strange, but your attendants seemed quite happy and spoiled, so you continued to follow the councilman in charge or guiding you.

“This is the nursery.”

The walls had the same honeycombs as the rest of the hive, but in each one was a crib and a sleeping babe. On the carpeted floor, toddlers waddled and crawled about, playing with toys as they got in their daily exercise.

Almost like a switch had been flipped, their tiny heads turned towards you. The closest baby bee tears up, their tiny, chubby legs struggling to carry them forward as they toddled their way over.

“M-mama!”

Every child within hearing range made their way over, clinging to your legs and fussing as they attempted to crawl up. They held onto your clothing, suckling on any bare skin they could find in an attempt to nurse.

“H-hey, I’m not your-“

The bee hybrid next to you sighed softly. “They won’t listen. You have the scent of their mother now, they want you to hold and feed them.”

Their little eyes were getting red and puffy from crying, they couldn’t understand why their mama wasn’t holding or feeding them.

It was really tugging at your heartstrings. They were just so little, you couldn’t imagine having a baby and how their innocent minds would try to process your death.

“Hey… it’s okay, mama is right here.”

You sat down, letting them climb into your lap and arms. A team of bee hybrids joined you, helping to bottle feed and soothe them.

“Once the eggs in you begin to grow, you’ll start lactating and will be able to feed hordes of the baby bees,” the councilman said, watching how the young ones bonded with you instantly.

“For now, though… you just need to give them your attention and care. They need it.”

As the little ones were laid down for a nap, you were able to sneak out and leave for your next appointment.

“The entire hive knows there is a new queen, gossip gets out fast,” the councilman said as you ate some lunch. Your attendants were playing with your clit, all cooing over how sensitive and hard it was getting under their touch.

There seemed to be no shame with them. You were sitting in the middle of the cafeteria and no one batted an eye as your fat pussy lips were pulled apart so they could lick and fuck your hole with their long tongues.

“However, you’ll still need to make an official appearance in front of the hive… that, and we’ll need to start the breeding ceremony.”

You were having trouble focusing, your fingers tugging on the hair of the bee between your legs. “C-ceremony?”

“Yes, my queen. It is customary for every bee hybrid to take a few days off of work to come and greet the queen. They all get their turns to mate and fill you with some of their own eggs.”

The ceremony began later in the evening. You were brought out before your loyal subjects, dressed in lacy lingerie and placed on a bed.

You felt less like a beloved ruler, and more like a breeding cow being brought out to be sold to the highest bidder.

Every bee bowed before you, dropping to one knee as they waited for you to speak.

“My loyal subjects…”

Just the sound of your voice sent a shiver of excitement through the crowd. You could see them shaking, few already hard and struggling to keep their hands off their pink, throbbing cocks.

“You have all been gathered here for the… breeding ceremony. As thanks for working as hard as you do, you all get a turn to…”

Again, your cheeks began to warm up. You couldn’t believe you were saying this. “… you all get a turn to breed me, your queen. I will take your eggs and incubate them, ensuring your bloodline will continue.”

With that, you laid down. The councilmen ushered forward a group of bee hybrids, and the breeding commenced.

They didn’t want to hurt you, that much was for sure.

Most of the bee hybrids were several feet taller than you, though some stopped at only a few inches above your head. No matter how much they towered over you, their touch was still gentle and hesitant.

None of them had ever touched a human before, much less mated with one. Your body was so sensitive, responding to every nudge and movement of their hands.

One of them sunk their fingers into your cunt, another offering you their cock. You took it into your mouth, causing them to buck their hips.

Your pussy gushed around their fingers.

“S-she’s getting all wet… my queen, is this good for you?”

“Yes, that means she’s excited! You can mate with her now!”

Each cock that entered you was different. Some were short and thick, others thin and long, but a few were both so girthy and long that you felt like you were being split in two.

At one point you were being fucked while jerking off two other bee hybrid and blowing another, trying to please as many as your subjects at once as possible.

The first creampie was almost soothing, the feeling of eggs filling your needy cunt was… mind blowing. You felt so fulfilled, you wanted to be fucked like this forever.

After the tenth bee hybrid though… you were so stuffed full you could barely think. Your tummy was stretched out, looking just about ready to burst.

“Oh, so pretty…” a bee chittered, rubbing your distended belly. “Our queen is doing so well…”

After another five bees had their way with you, the councilmen stepped forward. “That's enough for now, she needs her rest.”

Your attendants were quick to descend upon the bed, buzzing threateningly at every other hybrid that dared to even look at their exhausted queen.

“You truly did do well…” one of them cooed, kissing your temple after they bathed you then tucked you into bed.

“Sleep, you’ll need your rest. Tomorrow will bring even more eggs.”

As you laid down, curled up with a bee hybrid cuddle pile, you couldn’t help but look forward to tomorrow.

You were already becoming an amazing queen… and it had only been a day.

————————

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[circe69]

neighbor!simon riley, who trudges back to his flat after a long mission away, with sleepy eyes, tense shoulders and bloody hands. his palm reaches for the doorknob and as he opens it, the door right across from him opens as well.

and there you are, a pretty little thing, had to be at least a foot shorter than he was, clad in some stretchy shorts and an oversized college t-shirt that was hanging off your shoulders. simon's eyes drifted down the length of you, trying to memorize the freckles, occasional stretch marks and fluffy cellulite down your thighs, your shiny legs reflecting the eery hallway light.

"hi," you whispered with a wave, as you bent down to retrieve a package left on your doormat. simon's breath hitched as you leaned over, showing your soft tits almost spilling out of the sports bra you wore underneath.

he cleared his throat, "evenin" and fumbled with the doorknob. when he finally made it inside, he struggled even locking the door behind him, what if she needs me? he thought to himself. even off the job, he was nothing if not a protector.

as he laid in bed that night, stroking his neglected cock to the thought of you all laid out underneath him, squirming and whining for more, more, more. your pretty cries and soft body bouncing as he thrusted into you was all it took for him to come hard. he couldn't hold back the groans and the way your name tumbled out of his mouth as he finished.

fuck, he thought. he was doomed, truly, and he had to keep telling himself that no matter what, everything was temporary for him. there's no point in trying something with you when he was just going to end up leaving anyways.

but as the weeks went on, you were making it harder and harder for simon. every small interaction and passing glances in the elevator left him painfully hard underneath his cargo pants, and his delicate skin had been made raw from all the times he had to rub one out to the thought of you.

one early morning, as he left at the break of dawn for a conference meeting at a nearby base, he opened his front door only to be met with you, his lovely doe-eyed neighbor, holding out a container filled with cookies. he could tell you had just woken up, from the way your sweatpants lopsidedly hung off your hips, and the way your tank top was wrinkled. "I made these for you, to take to work. if you don't like them, that's okay. i just wanted to make sure you had something." your raspy voice called out to him as you handed him the container.

simon's heart dropped and broke in two as he took the container from you, oatmeal raisin? he thought, how did she know? a small smile broke free from his lips as you scanned the rest of him. there was no denying it, he was one of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, and especially today, the way the dark-washed jeans hugged his muscular thighs, and the black muscle tee leaving nothing to the imagination. you didn't know much about him, but you desperately wanted to change that.

simon took a step towards you and lifted his balaclava up just enough to bend down and kiss your cheek. you gasped at the action, tensing completely as he said, "thank you, sweetheart."

as he started to walk away, your brain finally caught to up reality. you shouted after him, "please be safe!" simon turned around at your words, "you too, dovey."

a few days had gone by since you'd seen simon, and as you were picking out pajamas for bed, you found an adorable lingerie set you'd forgotten you'd even had. it was a lace, blush pink babydoll nightgown, with a bow in the back. you slipped it over your head, and felt the prettiest you had in a while as you looked in the mirror. it hugged your hips just right, and sloped down in the front, showing your full tits, as well as the skin down your back.

as you made your way to the kitchen, you could hear simons loud footsteps coming down the apartment hallway. this was your chance, you thought. you were going to show yourself off to him, win him over. and as you looked in the peephole, not only did you see him, but you saw a package waiting for you as well. the perfect excuse!

you opened the door with a twinkle in your eye as simon turned around.

he swallowed hard, and did a double take as his eyes wandered over you. it was too much for him, the way he could see your perky nipples through the thin fabric. the thought of his teeth grazing them rushed into his mind, and it only got worse as you bent down to get your package. you tease him like this regularly, but this time, you turned around first.

simon growled under his breath as he got a view of your pretty ass cheeks just barely hanging out from your nightgown. he could faintly see a tight pink thong as well, a perfect match for your set.

you were really testing his patience, but to your surprise, he hadn't made any moves yet. so you told yourself you'd try one more time, before leaning up and swaying over to him. you placed a hand on his chest and signaled him to lean down to you like you were going to tell him a secret.

"I'm wearing this for you, y'know" you whispered, as you pushed your tits up against his chest.

that was all it took for simon to grab you by the hips and throw you over his shoulder, smacking your ass as he hauled you into his flat.

"teasy cunt, aren't you?" he said as he threw you onto his bed. you tried to crawl away, but he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you back, "nuh uh, you've made it this far. you better sit tight and take the rest."

simon grabbed you by the hips and leaned down to kiss you, his teeth softly nipping at your bottom lip before breaking apart, "I don't even know your fucking name," he whispered as he kissed the length of your neck. you groaned at the feeling of him sucking a small hickey right under your ear.

"y/n. it's y/n." you breathed out as his lips latched on to one of your nipples, you swallowed hard at the pleasure, "fuck yes, feels -mmph- feels good." he smiled at your mindless babbling, and the vibration of his groaning sent shock waves of heat through your body.

"simon," you asked

"hmm?" he latched on to the other nipple, while your hand ran through his hair.

"why did you need to know my name now? couldn't -mmn- couldn't that have waited?" you whispered as he shifted up so that he was eye level with you, his lips hovering just over yours.

"hmm-mm, need'ta know who's name I should groan when I finish inside you."

[sonarspace]

❝ BABY COME OVER HERE AND RIDE IT OUT ! ❞

꒰ synopsis. love isn’t the only thing they’re giving you tonight.

featuring. nanami. gojo. choso. geto. sukuna. toji. (separate)

warnings. mdni. nsfw. oral (f. receiving). fingering. teasing. kinda rough sex. unprotected sex. kinda overstimulation. size kink. food play (toji's)

an. made this kinda long since i haven't been posting much so i hope you guys enjoy !

❦ KENTO NANAMI

nanami asks you every year, like clockwork. it doesn’t matter that you wear his ring, that you wake up tangled with him every morning, his legs hooked around yours beneath the sheets, or that his touch is already written into your skin like a vow. he still does it. like it’s the first time.

"be my valentine."

his voice is low, rasping, the first thing you hear before you even open your eyes. the morning light spills through the curtains, catching the sharp angles of his face, his blond hair glowing in the soft haze. he’s already dressed, standing beside the bed with one knee pressed into the mattress, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. not something rushed, not a last-minute grab. he chooses them carefully, every year, arranging them with the precision he applies to everything in his life—especially you.

your fingers ghost over the petals before curling around his wrist, tugging him closer. his lips part just slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick between your face and your grip on him.

"always."

the word barely leaves your lips before he’s leaning down, pressing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, then your temple, then your lips—lingering, savoring, like he’s etching the moment into his memory.

dinner is familiar, comfortable in its ritual. candlelight flickers against polished silverware, the low hum of conversation surrounding you, the occasional clink of glass. nanami sits across from you, his presence sharp even in his silence. he’s composed, refined, but his attention is heavy, a weight you feel pressing into your skin.

his hand remains firm on your thigh beneath the table, fingers kneading the fabric of your dress, thumb drawing absentminded circles against your skin. he watches you sip your wine, his golden eyes tracking the movement, darkening as your lips part around the rim of the glass, your tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of red.

"you're quiet," you muse, setting your glass down.

his gaze lifts, sharp and unreadable. "just watching."

the rasp in his voice makes your stomach tighten, heat blooming low in your belly. his fingers flex against your thigh, pressing just a little harder. he doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel the storm gathering behind his composure.

you don’t even make it five steps past the front door before he’s on you.

"you have no idea," he growls against your throat, his breath hot, his body pressing you back against the door. his hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and you let out a gasp as your legs wrap around his waist. he holds you up like you weigh nothing, like you belong there.

"how fucking hard it was to sit through dinner."

his lips trail along your jaw, down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin without a care. he doesn’t want you to hide them.

"kento—"

"shh."

his hips roll into you, slow, deliberate, the thick weight of his cock pressing against your core through his slacks. the pressure makes you shiver, your fingers fisting into his shirt.

"you were testing me."

his voice is lower now, a growl buried deep in his chest. his hands tighten where they grip you.

"sat there all night, acting innocent, knowing you weren’t wearing anything under that dress."

his hand slides between your bodies, fingers pressing against your slit, cupping your heat through the thin material. his jaw clenches, breath hitching as he feels the wetness seeping through.

"fuck."

he presses harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.

"this all for me?"

you nod, whimpering, nails digging into his broad shoulders. his belt clinks, his slacks fall, and then he’s pressing the flushed head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it through your slick, teasing, torturing.

"gonna take me like a good girl?"

your body trembles, and he smirks.

"course you are."

then he sinks in.

your eyes go wide, your back arching, nails scraping down his back as he stretches you open, inch by inch.

"oh, fuck."

nanami shudders, stilling for a moment, his head falling to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

"so fucking tight."

he pulls back just enough before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt.

your head snaps back, mouth falling open, a breathless sound caught in your throat.

"mine," he growls, his pace deep, steady, brutal. calculated, like he’s making up for lost time, like he needs you to feel him in your bones.

his hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, holding you still, keeping you pinned against the door as he drives into you. you’re gasping, whimpering, clutching at him, and he laughs, dark and low in your ear.

"such a needy little thing."

he grinds into you, so deep you feel him in your stomach, his forehead pressing against yours, golden eyes locked onto you, watching you break apart on his cock.

"gonna cum for me?" his thumb slides down, pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. "gonna make a mess all over me?"

your body tenses, pleasure slamming into you, your orgasm ripping through you like a live wire, leaving you shaking in his arms.

"fuck—fuck, kento—!"

"oh, fuck," he pants, his hips stuttering, losing rhythm, and then he’s spilling inside you, grinding in deep, making you take all of it.

his grip softens, hands moving to smooth over your skin, his mouth pressing slow, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your collarbone, the corner of your lips.

"every damn year," he whispers again, softer this time, like a promise.

like next year, he’ll ask again.

and next year, you’ll say yes.

❦ SATORU GOJO

when you wake up, there’s a handwritten note on your pillow. messy scrawl, a little smudged, but the message is clear.

'be mine?'

when you step into the kitchen, he’s already there, leaning against the counter, sipping from a coffee cup, watching you with that familiar smirk. his hair is still tousled from sleep, white strands sticking up in every direction, and his robe is hanging loosely off his shoulders, like he didn’t bother to tie it properly.

“so?” he tilts his head, expectant. “what’s your answer?”

you roll your eyes, setting the note down beside your mug. “who else would i say yes to?”

he hums, stepping closer, fingers grazing your waist, warm and easy, like he has all the time in the world. “smart girl.” his lips brush over your temple, soft, but there’s something heavier behind it—the way his hands slide lower, gripping at your hips like he’s already thinking about something else.

“y’know,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “i’ve been craving something sweet all morning.”

you barely have time to react before he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.

“satoru—”

“shh, lemme have my breakfast first.”

he kneels between your thighs, pushing them apart, sliding your panties down your legs with agonizing patience.he keeps his eyes on you, watching, waiting, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers trace up the inside of your thighs, slow and deliberate.

“fuck,” he breathes, fingertips pressing into your skin as he stares at your slick folds like he’s starving.

he parts you with his thumbs, his tongue flicking out, teasing at your clit before pulling back just to see the way you react. you shudder, hands gripping at the counter, thighs threatening to close, but he stops you with a firm grip.

“nah, sweetheart, lemme see all of you,” he mutters, holding you open, licking another slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt. your head falls back, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as he starts to eat you like he’s savoring something decadent.

he hums against you, like he’s enjoying himself just as much as you are. his tongue circles your clit before sucking it into his mouth, groaning at the way your body reacts. his fingers slide up, spreading you wider as he licks into you, wet and filthy, taking his time.

your fingers tangle into his soft hair, pulling, and he just groans into you, sending vibrations through your core.

he eats like he’s starving, sucking and licking, dragging it out, making sure to taste every inch of you. when he slips his tongue inside, fucking into you with slow, deep strokes, you let out a choked gasp, legs trembling around his shoulders.

his grip tightens, holding you still, keeping you open as he flicks his tongue over your clit again, faster now, relentless.

“satoru, i—”

“mmm, c’mon, baby,” he groans, pressing his face deeper, tongue pressing against your clit, sucking hard. “gimme what i want.”

your body tenses, thighs squeezing around his head as pleasure slams into you all at once, breaking you open. you cry out, grinding against his mouth, and he groans, licking you through it, dragging it out, refusing to stop until you’re trembling against him.

when he finally pulls away, he licks his lips, smirking, eyes blown wide as he stares up at you.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, dragging his thumb through your slick, bringing it to his mouth just for one last taste. “you really are the sweetest treat.”

you whimper at his words, body still shaking, but he’s already standing, already pressing against you again.

his hands slide up your waist, fingers curling into your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to whisper against your skin.

“think you can handle more?”

his cock presses against your thigh, heavy and hard, and you realize he’s not even close to being done with you.

his lips brush your jaw, as he nudges your legs wider, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

❦ CHOSO KAMO

choso wasn’t sure what possessed him to do this. he’d spent weeks overthinking every detail, from what to cook to what music to play in the background. he wasn’t good at things like this—planning dates, making moves, figuring out if someone actually liked him the way he liked them. but when valentine’s day came around, he swallowed his nerves and asked if you’d come over for dinner.

and now you’re standing in his doorway, smiling at him like he’s not completely losing his mind.

“happy valentine’s,” he says, awkwardly holding out the flowers he bought earlier that day. they’re slightly crumpled from how tightly he’s been gripping them, but the colors are nice, and he hopes you won’t notice.

you take them gently, fingers brushing his as you bring them up to your nose. “you got me flowers?”

“uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “thought you might like them.”

“i love them,” you say, and his heart does something weird in his chest.

he steps aside so you can come in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep them from fidgeting. the apartment smells warm, something rich and savory simmering on the stove. it’s cozy, a little cluttered, but in a way that feels lived in.

“you really went all out,” you tease, setting the flowers down on the counter, eyes sweeping over the neatly set table. “candles, music, a home-cooked meal? you trying to impress me, choso?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “maybe.”

dinner is nice, easier than he expected. he listens more than he talks, letting you carry the conversation, letting himself soak in the sound of your voice. you’re so comfortable, so at ease, while he’s been tense all night, too aware of how much he wants this to go well.

at some point, you must notice, because you set your fork down and tilt your head at him. “you’re really nervous, huh?”

he lets out a breath, staring down at his plate. “yeah. i—” he hesitates, then sighs. “you just seem so... calm. like this is nothing for you.”

you blink at him, then shake your head with a small laugh. “choso, i’m just as nervous as you are.”

his head lifts, brows furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe it. “you don’t look it.”

“i hide it better than you do,” you admit, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “but trust me, i’ve been overthinking this just as much as you.”

his fingers twitch beneath yours, his whole body going still as he processes what you just said. then his shoulders drop a little, the tension easing just enough for him to exhale.

somehow, after dinner, you both end up on the couch, sitting close, legs barely brushing. you’re talking about something, but choso’s focus keeps slipping, keeps drifting to the way you’re sitting so comfortably in his space, like you belong there.

and then you’re looking at him, your voice softer now. “can i kiss you?”

his breath catches, fingers tightening where they rest on his lap. “yeah.”

you lean in, and he barely has time to process it before your lips press against his. it’s soft at first, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to pull away if he wants to. but he doesn’t. his hand comes up, fingers slipping into your hair as he kisses you back, tentative but growing bolder the longer he gets lost in the feeling.

somewhere along the way, you move into his lap, straddling him, your weight pressing down against him in a way that makes his head spin. his hands settle on your hips, gripping tightly, like he’s afraid to move too much and break whatever spell this is.

then you roll your hips, slow, teasing, and choso chokes on a gasp, hands flying to your waist to hold you still.

“fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping against your shoulder. “you—fuck.”

you do it again, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming faster, harder.

“this okay?” you whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

he nods, swallowing hard. “yeah. yeah, just—” he exhales sharply when you grind down again. “god, that feels good.”

his hands slide up, dragging along your sides, gripping at you like he’s still trying to process that this is happening. his hips move on instinct, pushing up to meet yours, the friction making him shudder.

he’s so warm beneath you, so solid, so desperate, making the tiniest, neediest sounds every time you move against him. his head falls back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

“you’re shaking,” you murmur, fingers threading through his hair.

he lets out a breathless laugh. “you’re really gonna act like you’re not?”

you smile, kissing him again, deeper this time, slower. his hands slide under your shirt, warm palms pressing against bare skin, not pushing, just holding, just wanting to feel.

his hips stutter beneath you, his grip tightening as he exhales sharply. “gonna—fuck, gonna cum if you keep—”

you press down harder, grinding in slow, lazy circles, and he moans, low and broken, his whole body trembling beneath you. his fingers grip tight, his breath stuttering as he falls apart, hips jerking up against you, voice catching in his throat.

you kiss him through it, soft and slow, dragging your fingers down his back as he shudders beneath you. he’s panting when he finally collapses against the couch, flushed and dazed, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at you.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “best valentine’s day ever.”

he groans softly, chest still rising and falling against yours. “yeah.”

then, before you can process it, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you into the cushions, settling between your legs.

“what are you—”

“returning the favor,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw, down your throat, his hands sliding beneath your thighs.

his breath is warm against your skin, his voice barely more than a whisper. “let me taste you.”

his hands tighten on your waist as he sinks lower, lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, parting your legs, settling between them like he belongs there.

when his lips finally close around your clit, when his tongue presses against you, slow and wet and filthy, he groans like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

and when you moan his name, fingers twisting in his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth, he's determined to make this valentine’s day one you’ll never forget.

❦ SUGURU GETO

you don’t expect him to show up at your door.

it’s late, the night air cool against your skin when you open it to find suguru standing there, leaning against the frame like he belongs there, like he’s been here a hundred times before.

his black hair is tied up, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his coat. he looks effortless, like always, like this is just another night for him, like he didn’t just show up on your doorstep without calling first.

"you busy?" he asks, voice smooth, lazy, like he already knows the answer.

"if i was?" you challenge, tilting your head.

he hums, stepping closer, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips. "then i'd say i’ll wait."

you roll your eyes but step back to let him in, because this is suguru, because you’re used to him showing up unannounced, because part of you had been waiting for this, hoping for it, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

he shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the back of your couch before stretching, muscles shifting beneath his sweater, his movements so slow, so casual, like he has all the time in the world.

"so?" you prompt, watching as he surveys your apartment like he hasn’t been here a hundred times before.

he turns to you, dark eyes flicking over your face, taking in the way you cross your arms over your chest, trying to act like his presence doesn’t make your stomach tighten.

"figured i should at least stop by," he says. "it is valentine’s day, after all."

you snort. "since when do you care about that?"

"i don’t," he says, stepping closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing in front of you, close enough that you have to tip your head back slightly to meet his gaze. "but you do."

your heart stutters in your chest, your pulse quickening, because this is different. suguru has always been laid back, has always flirted with you in a way that was easy to brush off as friendly. but right now, he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, like he’s testing you, like he’s finally giving you the chance to close the distance.

you swallow, feeling your fingers twitch at your sides. “and what exactly are you offering?”

his lips twitch, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. "whatever you'll let me."

there’s a pause, heavy, stretching between you, neither of you moving, neither of you looking away.

and then, finally, you reach for him, your fingers curling into the front of his sweater as you pull him in.

he follows easily, his body pressing against yours, his breath warm against your lips. he lets you set the pace, lets you tug him down, lets you kiss him first.

but the second your lips press against his, he takes over.

his hands slide up your sides, fingers curling around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you against him like he’s been waiting for this. he kisses you slow, deep, lazy in a way that makes your head spin, like he has nowhere else to be, like he has all night to take his time with you.

you sigh against him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the tie keeping it in place.

he groans softly when you pull it free, his hair falling around his shoulders, and you swear you feel him smile against your lips.

"finally," he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher.

"shut up," you breathe, pulling him back in, kissing him deeper, harder, pressing your body against his.

he lets you, lets you set the pace for a moment, lets you take what you want. but then his hands slide lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, walking you back until your back hits the couch.

you gasp as he lowers you onto it, pressing himself between your legs, his weight warm, solid, grounding.

his lips trail down your throat, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, his breath warm against your collarbone.

"suguru," you whisper, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

he groans, hands tightening on your hips, his body rolling against yours, slow, teasing, letting you feel him.

you whimper, arching into him, rocking your hips up to meet his, the friction sending a shiver down your spine.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening, his body pressing down against you, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

"been thinking about this for a while," he admits, his voice rough against your skin.

you smile, tilting your head to capture his lips again, rolling your hips against him, feeling the way his breath catches.

"then stop thinking," you murmur.

he groans, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin, his lips dragging over your throat, your jaw, back to your mouth.

he kisses you like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he wants to make up for all the time he wasted pretending he didn’t want this.

his hips move in slow, deliberate rolls, pressing against you, making your breath hitch, making heat coil low in your stomach.

you can feel how hard he is, can feel how much he’s holding back, his fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to keep himself steady.

"suguru," you whisper, dragging your nails down his back.

he exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm, unsteady.

"tell me you want this," he says, his voice low, strained.

you smile against his lips, pressing your hips up against his again, feeling the way he shudders.

"i do."

his resolve snaps.

his hands grip your thighs, his lips crashing into yours, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, grinding against you in slow, deep rolls, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hips moving harder, faster, almost desperate now.

you moan, clinging to him, arching up to meet every movement, the friction building, overwhelming.

"sugu—"

"i want this every day," he breathes, his voice breaking, his body tensing as he loses himself in you. "i want you every day."

his hips stutter, his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he moans against your throat, coming undone with you, his body shaking with it.

you hold him through it, dragging your hands up his back, whispering his name, pressing soft kisses against his jaw as he shudders in your arms.

when he finally catches his breath, he leans up just enough to look at you, his eyes hazy and dark, but softer than you’ve ever seen them.

he smiles, breathless, pressing his lips to your forehead. "yeah," he murmurs. "definitely want this every day."

❦ SUKUNA RYOMEN

you don’t expect anything from sukuna.

it’s not that you think he’s forgotten—he doesn’t forget things, least of all when people expect something from him. it’s that he doesn’t care.

valentine’s day is meaningless to him, just some cheap human tradition, an excuse for people to drape themselves in red and pink and beg for attention. and he’s never been the type to do something just because everyone else is doing it.

so you don’t ask, don’t even bring it up. you go about your day as usual, pretending it doesn’t sting just a little that he doesn’t even acknowledge it.

but when you walk into the room, something shifts.

he’s lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, arm slung over the backrest, posture completely at ease. the flickering light from the television casts sharp shadows along his face, accentuating the angles of his jaw, the high cut of his cheekbones. the pink strands of his hair catch the glow, almost soft if not for the way his deep red eyes flick over to you.

at first, he doesn’t react. doesn’t say anything. just stares, unblinking, scanning you from head to toe.

then, finally, his head tilts, his mouth curling into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t neutral either.

"what the hell are you wearing?"

you blink, brows lifting. "a dress?"

he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you with unreadable intent.

"for me?"

"not everything is about you, sukuna," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

he scoffs, but his gaze never leaves you, dragging over the shape of your legs, the dip of your waist, the way the fabric clings to you in all the right places.

"you sure about that?" his voice dips lower, not quite rough, but there’s something deliberate in the way he speaks, a certain weight behind his words. "because you’re standing there, looking like that, and now i’ve got a problem."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen. "if you’re just gonna be annoying, i’ll go find someone else to spend valentine’s with."

you barely make it two steps before his hand catches your wrist, yanking you back with zero effort, making you stumble right into his chest.

"you think anyone else could handle you?" he murmurs, voice lower now, a little rougher, edged with something smug.

his other hand moves, trailing up your thigh, just enough to make you exhale a little too sharply.

you sigh, feigning boredom, your lips twitching. "big words from someone who looks like a walking valentine’s day decoration."

his brows lift, amused. "what?"

you smirk, tilting your head, your fingers lifting to brush over the pink strands of his hair. "pink hair, red eyes? loverboy, you are valentine’s day personified."

"yeah?" he muses, voice low, slow, eyes dragging over you like he’s figuring out exactly how he wants to ruin you. his hands trail up your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"then get on my lap," he murmurs, smirking as his hands slide lower. "if you're gonna dress like a present, i might as well unwrap you."

before you can protest, he’s already pulling you down, making you straddle his thighs.

you huff, shifting in his grip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. "if you don’t care about today, then what the hell is this?"

his smirk never fades, his fingers dragging up your back, his voice a low drawl.

"who said i cared?" he murmurs, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "maybe i just wanna remind you who you fucking belong to."

his hands move over your waist, his touch heavier now, his palms pressing firmly as he grinds up against you, letting you feel how hard he already is beneath you.

he groans softly, head tilting back just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours.

"fuck," he exhales, voice lower now, thick with something that makes your stomach coil tight. "go on, then. take what you want."

his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass, urging you to move against him, to drag this out, to tease him.

"shit," you breathe, nails sinking into his shoulders, feeling every inch of him beneath you.

he chuckles, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes gleaming with something smug.

"what?" his voice is laced with amusement, his lips barely twitching into a grin. "can’t even handle it?"

you glare at him, breath unsteady. "if you’d just let me—"

his fingers flex, his hips snap up, cutting you off as a groan rumbles in his throat.

"quit whining and ride me properly," he growls.

you inhale sharply, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, rolling your hips in slow, deep motions that you know will shut him up.

his hands fly back to your waist, grip tightening, breath growing uneven as his head tips back against the couch, his jaw clenching.

"fuck—" his voice catches, his body stiffening slightly beneath you.

his usual smirk is gone now, replaced by something hazier, his brows furrowing as his body tenses.

"god, you—" his fingers tremble against your waist, his rhythm faltering as you keep pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

his control crumbles, his breathing turning shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves as his forehead drops against your shoulder.

"shit—fuck, slow down," he mutters, but he makes no real effort to stop you.

his hands grasp at your skin, his movements growing sloppier, needier, a soft, broken sound slipping past his lips when you roll your hips just right.

"you said to ride you," you murmur against his ear, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches.

he groans, deep and almost desperate, his hips jerking up instinctively, chasing the feeling.

"fuck," he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, his body trembling beneath you, struggling to keep up.

you lean in, lips brushing his jaw. "then let go."

his entire body shudders, his grip on you bruising as his hips stutter beneath you, a wrecked sound breaking free from his throat as he comes apart, gasping into your neck.

his fingers twitch against your waist, his muscles tensing before finally going lax, his breath warm against your skin, his chest still heaving.

for a long moment, he just stays there, dazed, his head tilted back against the couch, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet yours.

his smirk is weak, unfocused, but still there.

"you're still gonna fucking pay for that," he mutters, voice ragged.

you grin, dragging your fingers down his chest. "happy valentine’s, loverboy."

he groans, hands still on you, already shifting beneath you, already ready to flip you over.

"shut up," he breathes, lips curving into something sharper. "you’re not done yet."

❦ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji doesn’t believe in holidays.

at least, not ones that require effort. gifts, fancy dinners, long romantic speeches—all a waste of time, in his opinion. but that doesn’t stop you from raising a brow when you walk into the apartment and find him exactly where you expect, sprawled out on the couch, legs spread, looking like he hasn’t moved in hours.

"you’re pathetic," you say, dropping your bag onto the table.

he grunts, barely glancing at you, one arm propped behind his head. "and you’re late."

"late for what?" you scoff, kicking off your shoes. "don’t tell me you actually planned something."

he snorts, finally looking at you, eyes trailing down your legs, up your body before landing on your face.

"yeah," he mutters, stretching, shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of muscle, the deep v-line dipping into his sweats. "planned to be balls-deep by now, but here you are, runnin’ your mouth instead."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen until something on the counter catches your attention.

a small, neatly packed box of chocolate-covered strawberries sits there, next to a crumpled receipt. no ribbons, no gift bag—just the box, like he cared enough to pick them out but didn’t see the point in dressing it up.

your lips twitch. "so you did get me something."

toji groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up. "tch. they were sittin’ by the register. thought, ‘hey, maybe this’ll shut her up.’"

you pick one up, rolling it between your fingers before bringing it to your lips, taking a slow bite. the chocolate melts over your tongue, the juice spilling slightly at the corners of your mouth.

you hum, swallowing before flashing him a smirk. "you want one?"

toji watches you for a moment, his green eyes dark, tracking the way your tongue flicks out to catch the mess before it drips down your chin.

"nah," he mutters, pushing off the couch and closing the distance between you in a few lazy strides.

before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist, plucking the strawberry from your grip, pressing the juicy tip against your lips.

"bite," he murmurs.

your breath hitches, but you do, sinking your teeth into the fruit at the same time as he does. your mouths are barely an inch apart when sweet juice spills from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin.

toji grins against the mess, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming before he licks the trail from the edge of your mouth, slow and deliberate.

"fuckin’ sweet," he mutters. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth just enough to make your knees feel weak.

before you can say anything, his hand grips your waist, his other swiping the box of chocolates off the counter.

"toji—?"

he doesn’t answer. instead, he tucks the box under his arm and bends low, gripping the backs of your thighs before lifting you up effortlessly.

"toji, put me down—"

"well no," he says, smirking as he adjusts his hold, carrying you and the chocolates back toward the bedroom like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

you barely have time to process it before you feel the cool air of your shared room against your skin, and then he’s dropping you onto the bed.

before you can even sit up, he’s already pulling at your clothes.

"off," he mutters, voice rough, hands yanking your top over your head, pushing your bottoms down so fast it leaves you breathless.

your pulse jumps as he strips you bare in seconds, moving too fast for you to keep up, his own shirt already on the floor before you realize he even pulled it off.

his sweats hit the floor next, leaving him just as bare, the heat of his body pressing against yours again before you can even get a word out.

he smirks at you, running his palm over your thigh, like he knows you’re still catching up.

"dizzy?" he teases, voice dipping lower.

you glare at him, chest rising and falling, fingers curling into the sheets. "you—"

he doesn’t let you finish. his hand slides up, gripping your jaw, kissing you deep, messy, full of heat.

"shh," he murmurs against your lips, pressing you further into the mattress, his other hand reaching for the box of chocolates.

he plucks out another strawberry, dragging it over your chest, your stomach, watching as melted chocolate smears across your skin.

he keeps the strawberry on your mound, eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching the way your breath shudders when you realize what he’s about to do.

his mouth follows the trail, tongue dragging along the warm, sticky path, making sure to clean up every last drop.

and when he finally reaches the strawberry, he bites into it right where it rests, juices spilling, mixing with your own, and his mouth is on you in an instant, licking it all away.

you gasp, back arching, thighs twitching as his tongue moves slow, deep, thorough.

"fuck," he mutters against you, voice rough. "tastes better than chocolate."

his thick fingers slip inside you easily, curling deep. his tongue swirls against your clit, his pace ruthless, not giving you a second to process.

a mix of his mouth and fingers builds you up too fast, your body tightening, already spiraling toward the edge before you can stop it.

"toji—fuck—"

"mhm," he hums, sending vibrations straight through you, his fingers pressing deep, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

the orgasm rips through you before you even realize, sudden, overwhelming, your body trembling as he keeps licking, keeps working you through it until you’re pushing at his head, gasping for air.

he finally pulls away, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

but something’s different.

he looks down at you. his expression unreadable and jaw set tight.

"what’s wrong?" you ask, still breathless, voice hazy.

toji exhales through his nose, fingers tapping idly against your thigh. his jaw flexes, like he’s debating saying something but hesitating.

"forget it," he mutters, shaking his head.

"no," you say immediately, grabbing his wrist. "tell me."

he doesn’t look at you right away. his lips press together, like he’s chewing on the words, debating if he should even say them.

finally, he exhales. "i just—" he stops, brows furrowing. "sometimes i feel like… i don’t do enough. for you."

your chest aches at the way he says it, like he’s expecting you to agree. like part of him is waiting for you to confirm that he’s not enough.

"what, you think i need some grand romantic gesture?" you tease, running a hand through his messy hair. "toji, if i wanted candlelit dinners and corny love letters, i would’ve picked someone else."

you pull him down, kissing him slow, deep, like you need him to understand.

"you do more than enough," you murmur against his lips. "i have you. that's all i need."

he stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to believe it.

then he smirks, some of the tension melting from his shoulders.

"good," he breathes, fingers tightening on your waist. "’cause i already booked us a flight for tomorrow."

you freeze, eyes blinking up at him. "you—what?"

he chuckles, brushing his thumb over your mouth before sinking lower, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw.

"figured you deserved a vacation’," he murmurs against your neck. "so we’re gettin’ the hell outta here for a few days."

your breath catches, excitement flickering through you, replacing the heat already settling in your stomach.

"where?"

he nips at your collarbone, dragging his tongue over the mark he leaves behind.

"you’ll find out when we get there."

you gasp, half-annoyed, half-turned on. "you’re such a bastard."

he grins, pressing another chocolate-stained kiss to your chest.

"yeah?" his breath fans against your skin, his voice dipping lower. "say that again when i’m making you cum for the third time tonight."

an. HAPPY LATE V-DAY LOVERS <3!

[userlaylivia]

@emilyskinners, @bosesmikas, @vampirehizzies

Klaus, it’s too dangerous let me come with you.

[kaizsche]

THE GORGE (2025) dir. Scott Derrickson

[woso-dreamzzz]

Appendix

Kim Little x Teen!Reader

Summary: You need your appendix out

"So," You say with clenched teeth, awkward and a little bit wary as you lay on the physio table," Am I in trouble?"

"I don't know," Your sister says with that air of disapproval that she always has," Are you?"

"Kim," You groan," Why do you do this?"

"I don't know. Why do I do this?"

You roll your eyes, pressing your head back against the table. "You're just like mum."

"Well when there's an age gap as big as ours, that's bound to happen," Kim says dismissively," But I think the real problem here is why you don't tell me you were hurt."

"I'm not hurt. I'm in pain. There's a difference."

"Your snark isn't needed right now," Kim warns you," You're not hurt. You're in pain, fine. Why didn't you tell me?"

You wince. "It didn't seem that bad this morning? Honestly, I thought it was cramp."

"You thought your appendix nearly blowing up was cramp?"

"I have a high pain tolerance? I didn't even cry when I broke my arm a few years ago!"

You can see your sister angrily swipe her hand over her face as she takes a moment to recompose herself.

"The ambulance is on its way but the staff are pretty confident that you'll have to have your appendix out."

"Is that surgery?"

Kim rolls her eyes. "Yes, it's surgery. How else are they going to get it out?"

"I don't know! Can't they like...I don't know!"

"The pain's making you delusional," Your sister says fondly, that odd smile on her face she gets when you really show off the age gap between you both.

"I'm not delusional!"

Kim's hand gently pushes your hair off your sweaty forehead. "I should have known you weren't feeling too good when you asked me why we didn't have giant rats running around and blocking the Tube tunnels."

"It's a genuine question!"

But it's also a genuine question that never gets answered as you're loaded up into an ambulance and given enough pain medication that you kind of think it's a waste because of your naturally high pain tolerance.

You don't really remember much after that, just feeling a little woozy and your sister holding your hand until you wake up again.

Kim's a lot older than you - around eighteen years older than you - so she's never really been around much in your childhood. By the time you were born, she was already going off for her first stint at Arsenal and you were back home in Scotland, still unable to lift your own head up.

It's kind of amazing actually that you've both ended up playing on the same team despite the age gap.

You were at the start of your career. Kim was nearing the end of hers.

But she's definitely still holding your hand as you wake up.

"Kim," You groan," Kimmy..."

"Yeah?"

"They took my organ! I'm organless!"

She smiles at you, a little amused as she forces down a small laugh. "You're not organless. They just took out a little piece that was making you sick."

You frown at that. "But can I have it back?"

"You want your appendix back?"

"We can send it to Mum!" You say," She's been missing us at home. She can have my appendix to remember me by!" Your sudden delight is stamped out though as you stare at your sister. "Kim, do you still have yours? We need to take it out to give to Mum!"

That's the thing that actually makes her laugh, shaking her head fondly at you as you waffle on about anything and everything that comes to your mind.

At least until all the exhaustion takes over again and you're fast asleep in bed again.

Kim sits next to you - a watchful eye and presence by your bedside - with a hand in your own.

"Knock, knock?" Comes the voice from the door," The kid not awake yet?"

"She was. Briefly. Awake and high."

"Oh, man." Katie pushes past Steph lingering in the doorway. "We missed it? Was it at least recorded? This could have been blackmail for days!"

"Did I record my little sister high off pain medication for your viewing pleasure? No, Katie, I didn't. She doesn't need to be teased about it."

Katie shrugs as the rest of the team floods into the tiny room you're sleeping in. "Just askin'. It's not a big deal. I'll find something else."

"We bought flowers," Lia intervenes easily, placing the vase on the bedside table," And some food for you. Just sandwiches and stuff. Nothing fancy."

"Thanks. It's nice of you to come and visit. I'm sorry she's not awake yet."

Lia shrugs, perching on the arm of Kim's seat. "it's alright. She's just had surgery. She needs the sleep. We can wait."

"Wait so you can tease me?" Your groggy voice says," Jokes on you. I'm totally in control of myself."

You blink a few times to clear the sleep from your eyes, keeping a grip on Kim's hand as you smile. She squeezes lightly, a reminder of her steady presence next to you.

She won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"Now, did you guys bring me food or just flowers? Hospital food sucks."

[jincapableoflove]

A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook—your best friend—knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

Inspired by: To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Word count: 10.2K+

Warnings: arguments, jungkook is a jerk, misunderstandings (a lottt of it), angstttt, reader and jk are huge idiots, mutual pining, implied smut (its not too detailed so that the story maintains the emotional connectivity), romantic intimacy, tooth-rotting fluff.

MOODBOARD

A/N: HERE IT ISSS! this is the longest fic ive written! tysm for all the support yall have given me in the teaser of this fic. i put out a taglist thinking no one would actually want to be a part of it but so many of yall asked to be tagged 😭 im so grateful! tysm i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writng it. lmk ur thoughts abt it after u read too <3 ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYY (someone date me pls)

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to study.

Joy, your roommate, is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside your bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box. You pull it out carefully, as if it were a fragile secret, and place it on your lap.

A soft breath escapes you as you grab a nearby pen and a book, neatly tearing out a tiny slip of paper. The motion is second nature now. Without even thinking, you let your emotions spill onto the paper, crafting a fleeting moment into something permanent.

Tonight’s memory is simple, but it still tugs at your heart. Jungkook had sent you another blurry picture of the moon, captioned with a casual, “Looks kinda pretty, right?” He knew how much you loved the moon—how it fascinated you in a way you could never quite put into words. And he had remembered. Of course, he had remembered.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

Once the ink dries, you fold the note with care and add it to the collection. The box is almost full now, brimming with countless tiny confessions—whispers of feelings you’ve never had the courage to say aloud. A hundred little moments, a hundred little thoughts, all dedicated to the boy who had unknowingly stolen your heart.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, your best friend, who always saves you the last bite of his food, even when it’s his favorite. Jungkook, who sends you blurry pictures of the moon just because he knows you love them. Jungkook, who insists on studying with you, despite his major being entirely different from yours, just so he can make sure you actually open a book instead of procrastinating.

This little tradition of yours had started as a joke. One night, after an especially soft moment where Jungkook had wordlessly placed his hoodie over your head because you were shivering, you had scribbled on a piece of paper: Jungkook is warmer than the sun.

You had smiled to yourself as you rolled up the paper and dropped it into the box. It had felt oddly nice—preserving that moment, capturing the feeling of it in something tangible. So you did it again. And again. And again.

Until, one day, you realized you had written over a hundred of them.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love. And you certainly hadn’t planned to confess.

But each tiny slip of paper holds a truth your heart refuses to say aloud.

And you're going to keep it a secret forever.

You met Jungkook almost three years ago, during freshman year. The first time you met him, he had been infuriatingly kind.

You had been struggling under the weight of a precariously tall stack of books, barely able to see over them, when suddenly, a few disappeared from the top. Startled, you looked up to see Jungkook grinning at you, effortlessly holding the books you had nearly dropped.

"You looked like you were about to tip over," he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a playful huff, you had responded, "Maybe I wanted it to tip over."

Jungkook had only laughed, shaking his head. "I'll catch you next time," he had promised.

That night, you had written a tiny note and slipped it into your box: He wants to catch me when I fall, even without me asking.

From that moment on, your friendship grew in ways you hadn’t even noticed at first. Midnight walks and late-night study sessions became routine, pulling you closer together with every shared moment. What had started as swapping notes for the one class you had together turned into sharing secrets. Somewhere along the way, before you even realized it, Jungkook had become your favorite person.

The box was almost full now.

You had written so many things over the years, each note capturing a small piece of him, a fragment of your feelings. Some were simple observations:

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

His hair is always a mess in the mornings. He hates it, but I love it.

His eyes smile before his lips do.

But one night, you had written something different. Something deeper. Something that felt like the truest thing you had ever put to paper.

I love him.

The moment the ink dried, panic had set in. You had almost torn it up, almost removed it from the box as if keeping it there would somehow make it real. But in the end, you had left it. Because the box was safe. No one was going to see it.

Especially not Jungkook.

One afternoon, you came back from your classes, ready to relax and unwind before the stress of exams fully set in. You had been looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe even a movie marathon with Jungkook to take your mind off things for a while.

But the moment you stepped into your dorm, you felt something was off.

Joy was sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee, her expression smug—too smug. A knowing smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she watched you walk in, and instantly, your stomach twisted with unease.

You narrowed your eyes. "What did you do?"

"I did you a favor," she said casually, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. "What favor?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

Joy grinned. "I found that little cute box of yours."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that," she waved a hand dismissively, as if what she was about to say wasn’t about to shatter your entire world. "It was just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought—what a perfect Valentine's Day gift for Jungkook. So…I wrapped it up and dropped it off at his place."

Silence.

A deafening, all-consuming silence as her words echoed in your head.

"You WHAT?!"

Your entire body froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as horror washed over you in waves. Your chest felt tight, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Joy merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the sheer panic on your face. "You're welcome," she said cheekily—before promptly sprinting out of the room for her life.

But you couldn’t chase after her. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ringing in your ears.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

Still desperate to deny the possibility, you dropped to your knees and scrambled to check under your bed, your hands shaking as you reached into the familiar space where you had hidden the box for years.

Empty.

It was gone.

The tiny wooden box that held a hundred little moments, a hundred little secrets—your secrets—was gone.

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people…Jungkook.

Jungkook lived in an apartment a little further away from your dorm. The second the realization hit, you bolted out the door without a second thought, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Your plan was simple—get to his apartment before he did. You knew his habits well enough to guess that he was probably grabbing a late lunch at that fast-food place near campus. If luck was on your side, you still had time.

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

As you ran, your mind spiraled into chaos, bombarding you with every possible scenario—each one worse than the last.

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

What if he found the one that said I love him?

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

And now, he might know that you wanted to be more than just friends.

The mere thought made your chest tighten as memories of the two of you flashed through your mind. The times you spent together at the arcade, the countless movie nights, the time you and Jungkook had crashed Jimin’s birthday party with a ridiculous amount of booze.

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

"I wish I could find someone who truly understood me," he had said one night, his voice softer than usual, lost in thought.

And you had almost said it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue, so painfully close—"I do."

But you swallowed them down.

Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if saying those words ruined everything?

And now, thanks to Joy, you didn’t have a choice anymore. The truth was out there, sitting in a neatly wrapped box in Jungkook’s apartment.

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

You shook your head violently as you rounded the corner, lungs burning from the sprint. You’re going to get there before he does. You’re going to take the box back, and he’s never going to know about it.

That was the plan.

It had to work.

As soon as you reached Jungkook’s apartment building, you barely paused to catch your breath. Your legs ached from running, but panic kept you moving. You made a beeline for the mailbox section in the lobby, frantically scanning the names, searching for his.

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

Maybe his roommate took it upstairs? Yeah. That had to be it. Maybe it was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, still safe, still unseen.

You latched onto that sliver of hope as you rushed up the stairs two at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. By the time you reached his floor, your hands were shaking. You raised a fist and knocked on the door, urgency making your knuckles sting.

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

Then—finally—you heard shuffling from inside. A few footsteps. The creak of the floorboards. A pause.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing right in front of you, framed in the dim light of his apartment, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that draped over his frame in a way that shouldn't have been so unfairly attractive. His dark hair was slightly damp, messy from a shower, strands falling into his eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, his brows slightly furrowed, and the expression on his face—confused yet soft, dangerously soft—made your already erratic heartbeat lurch violently.

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

Your secret, sacred collection of unsent confessions, of words meant only for the safety of your own solitude. The pieces of your heart you had never dared to show him.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

"You—" You gasped, barely able to form words, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought for air. "You opened it?"

Jungkook blinked, holding the box loosely in one hand, fingers curled around the edges as if he had been going through its contents just moments ago. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply, as if the weight of the universe hadn’t just come crashing down on you.

Oh. Oh no.

Your legs wobbled. You had to physically stop yourself from collapsing right there in front of him.

His gaze flickered downward, and you followed it instinctively. In his other hand, he held one of the notes. One of your notes. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, a little smudged, a little rushed, but still legible.

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

"I don’t know when it happened. But one day, he became my favorite person."

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

"Jungkook, I—" Your voice cracked, but before you could even attempt to explain, he looked up and met your eyes.

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

Not a teasing smirk, not an awkward grimace, but a real, genuine, knowing smile. A little shy, a little amused, as if the weight of what he had just discovered didn’t terrify him nearly as much as it did you.

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

"So… do you still think my hair looks best when it’s messy?"

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

You had been bracing yourself for a talk—a conversation where he’d tell you gently, maybe even apologetically, that he didn’t feel the same way. Or, at the very least, a moment of awkwardness before things slowly went back to normal.

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

It started subtly at first. He stopped texting as much. The late-night calls that once lasted for hours dwindled into one-word replies and seen messages. The casual lunch meetups, the spontaneous arcade runs, the easy, natural way he used to gravitate towards you in a crowded room—all of it changed.

And yet, despite the distance, he never fully let you go.

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

Like today, when he leaned in—far too close for comfort—during your shared class. His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear.

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

You stiffened instantly, your hands tightening around your pen. He pulled back with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he watched your reaction unfold in real-time.

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

Whenever you tried to talk to him—really talk to him—he would either dodge the conversation entirely or turn it into something lighthearted, something unserious.

Like the time you finally found him alone, determined to just get it over with, to ask what had changed between you two. Before you could even get the words out, he cut you off with another one of those smirks, his voice laced with amusement.

"So I look best in black? Good to know."

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

It was like the caring, affectionate boy you had known for years had vanished the moment your heart had been laid bare. Like now that the truth was out in the open, he didn’t know how to handle it—so he chose to mock it instead.

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

The time you used to spend together? Gone. He was hanging out with other people now, filling his days with anyone but you. And when you did manage to cross paths, he only acknowledged you through those insufferable little comments, those cruel reminders of the things you had never meant for him to see.

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

Because maybe—just maybe—you had hoped that if he knew how you felt…

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

The next week brought the on-campus career fair—an event mandatory for all students. You weren’t particularly excited about it, but at least it was a distraction, something to keep your mind occupied.

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was walking around with Hana, a junior from your college. They moved easily through the crowd, side by side, completely immersed in conversation. And then, to make things even worse—he laughed.

A real laugh. The kind that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle, the kind you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t expecting him to make it this obvious.

If he wanted to reject you, fine. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could live with that. But did he really have to parade it around like this?

Maybe this was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted you to know, without actually having to say it out loud.

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

These days, you barely have the motivation to attend classes. You go through the motions—waking up, dragging yourself to campus, sitting through lectures—but your mind isn’t really there.

Because no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the brutal reality of rejection lingers like a shadow, following you everywhere you go.

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

You should have expected it, right? You should have known this was how it would turn out.

Maybe you were never meant to be anything more than a friend to him. Maybe, the moment he realized you held deeper feelings for him, he got scared. Or worse—maybe he just didn’t care at all.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Jungkook has always been a romantic at heart. You’ve seen it in the way he talks about love, in the way he watches romance movies with a dreamy look in his eyes. But clearly, you were never part of that dream.

And now, because of your stupid feelings, you’ve ruined everything.

You used to be his best friend. The one he joked around with, the one he trusted, the one he leaned on.

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

And if he does, it's only to throw some teasing remark your way—like your feelings were some kind of joke.

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

Because none of this would have happened if she had just left that damn box alone.

That day after the box incident, the moment you stepped back into your dorm, she was there, lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. She glanced up as you walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so early. I thought you guys would—” she wiggled her eyebrows—“get freaky after the whole confession, you know?”

She laughed, expecting you to groan or throw a pillow at her like usual.

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past her and sank into the couch, staring at nothing, your mind still replaying every moment from earlier—Jungkook’s teasing, his smirk, his distance.

You heard Joy shuffle closer, her voice softer now. “I… I’m sorry. Did I send the gift too early? Did Jungkook not like it?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, no, he loved it.” You turned to her, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for your help, Joy.”

Her expression faltered. “Wait… what do you mean?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Jungkook probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”

Joy winced. She sat beside you on the couch, guilt written all over her face. “I— I really thought—” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I was so sure, though. That boy always had heart eyes for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, now you know he didn’t.”

Silence settled between you both.

And for the first time, Joy didn’t have anything to say.

The next time you see Jungkook, he’s with Hana again.

They’re standing by one of the campus notice boards, deep in conversation. You don’t mean to eavesdrop—you’re not even sure why you stop—but the moment you hear them talking, something in your gut tells you to listen.

Hana tilts her head, her voice low but clear. “Are you sure she won't find out?”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Maybe it's better this way”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your first instinct is denial—maybe they’re not talking about you. Maybe it’s about someone else entirely. But deep down, you know.

As far as you’re aware, there isn’t another she in Jungkook’s life. Not before. Not when you were still close.

You’ve already been replaced.

Your chest aches as you piece it together. He doesn't want you to find out—because he's probably in a relationship with Hana now. Because he doesn’t want to hurt you with a direct rejection, he thinks hiding his relationship with her is the kinder option.

It isn’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to step back, turning away from the scene before you can hear any more.

You decide then—no matter how much it hurts, no matter how pathetic it makes you feel—you can’t bear being apart from Jungkook.

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

Losing him completely? That’s not something you’re ready for. Maybe you never will be.

So, you do the only thing you can think of.

You wait for him after class.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch the door, your hands clammy with nerves. When Jungkook finally steps out, your breath catches. He looks the same—same hoodie, same soft brown eyes—but everything feels different now.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

"I get it, okay?" you say, voice firm despite the way your throat tightens. "You don’t like me. And that’s fine. I hope she makes you happy."

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

"Then make me understand, Jungkook," you plead. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to keep going, even as your last shred of dignity slips through your fingers. "Can we still be friends, at least?"

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

There's a party happening, hosted by one of the biggest party animals on campus. Everyone is invited, and Joy insists that you go.

After much convincing, you finally give in. You've mended things with her—finally forgiven her. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe you just needed someone to blame.

You decide to go, hoping for a distraction. Maybe the music, the drinks, and the endless chatter will help you forget, even if just for a night.

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

The party is in full swing when you arrive—loud music, flashing lights, bodies moving wildly on the dance floor, and the unmistakable smell of booze in the air. Bottles are being passed around, and the energy is electric.

A few friends from your classes spot you and pull you in, offering drinks. You take them all without hesitation, reaching for the strongest ones, letting the alcohol burn away the ache in your chest.

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Good. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe you can actually enjoy yourself tonight.

With the alcohol settling in, your limbs feel lighter, your mind a little hazy. You dance to the outdated playlist blaring through the speakers, laugh with strangers, and let yourself let go—just for a while.

But after some time, it all feels like too much. The heat, the noise, the overwhelming buzz in your veins. You slip away from the crowd and make your way to the rooftop, breathing in the crisp night air, letting it cool your flushed skin.

And then you sense it—someone else's presence.

You turn, your head spinning slightly, and there he is.

Jungkook.

You blink, wondering if you're imagining him, but his gaze is fixed on you, a slight furrow between his brows. There's something like concern in his expression as he watches you, taking in your drunken state.

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

The alcohol makes everything feel lighter—your body, your thoughts, your inhibitions. So when you see Jungkook standing there, looking at you with that unreadable expression, the words just spill out before you can stop them.

“I liked you, you know,” you mumble, swaying slightly. “But now I realize… I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook doesn’t react. No apology, no denial, not even a flicker of emotion across his face.

He just exhales softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine,” he says simply, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Just like that.

The cool night air suddenly feels suffocating, the weight in your chest heavier than ever. You watch his retreating figure, your heart shattering all over again.

The next morning, you wake up with the nastiest headache ever. Your head throbs, your mouth is dry, and your body feels like it’s been wrung out. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as the hazy memories from last night slowly piece themselves together.

Jungkook. The rooftop. The way he just… walked away like he didn’t care.

You shake the thought from your mind, dragging yourself out of bed. There’s no point dwelling on it. Your exams are approaching, and you need to focus.

Deciding to get some studying done, you head to the library. The quiet atmosphere should help clear your head—or at least distract you from the mess that is your life.

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

Jungkook is sitting at the table you both used to frequent, completely absorbed in scribbling something into a notebook. For a second, you consider turning around, but then something catches your eye.

He rips out a small piece of paper, folds it neatly, and—without hesitation—slips it into a glass jar sitting beside him.

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

You don’t stick around to find out. Before Jungkook can notice you, you turn on your heel and walk away.

February 10th. Your birthday.

You wake up with a small flicker of hope. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Jungkook had been ignoring you all this time because he was planning something—some kind of surprise. That had to be it, right?

Surely.

So you wait.

By 3 PM, your phone is filled with messages—friends, family, even distant relatives reaching out to wish you. Everyone but Jungkook.

Not even a single text.

The hope that had carried you through the day starts to crumble, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t go to class. What’s the point? This might just be the worst birthday ever.

That’s when Joy bursts into your room with a grin.

"You got a package!" she announces, holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

You rush over, fingers fumbling as you tear open the wrapping—only for your stomach to drop.

It’s from your parents.

Disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside. They went through the trouble of sending you something, and you should be grateful. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile as you pick up your phone and call them.

"Thank you," you say, voice steady. Because at least someone remembered.

There was still time.

It was only evening—plenty of hours left before midnight. Jungkook would surely text before then. He had to.

Joy, noticing your gloomy mood, tries to lift your spirits. "Come on, let’s go out drinking. Have some fun, at least for your birthday."

But you shake your head. "I’m not in the mood."

She sighs, clearly frustrated but doesn’t push you. Instead, she flops onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this," she mutters. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate him for treating you this way."

Her voice is laced with anger, but there’s something else there too—guilt.

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

If she hadn’t sent that gift early, if she hadn’t tried to play cupid, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe you wouldn’t be spending your birthday like this—waiting for a boy who might never come around.

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a message that never came. Midnight passed, and still—nothing.

The realization settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected. You feel pathetic.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for waiting. Pathetic for still caring.

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

You can’t afford to miss any more classes. You haven’t stepped foot on campus since your birthday, but today, you decide to go.

You have no motivation to see or talk to anyone. You tell yourself that you’ll just quietly attend your classes and head straight back home. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions.

But as soon as you reach campus, you notice a crowd gathering. There’s some kind of matchmaking event happening for Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

Great. Just great.

Everything about it feels like the universe is mocking you, rubbing salt on an already raw wound. Heart-shaped decorations, pink confetti floating in the air, and couples laughing—completely oblivious to how suffocating it feels for you.

You try to move past the crowd, but suddenly, someone pushes forward, and you get caught in the chaos. You stumble, losing your balance—bracing for impact—

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

His hands grip your arms, steadying you out of instinct. His touch is firm and warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

For the first time in days, you look up at him. And for the first time in days, he looks right back at you.

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

His grip stays firm, his fingers pressing into your arms like he’s grounding himself, like he’s hesitating. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly—like he’s about to say something.

The music playing in the background fades into a distant hum. Everything around you slows. The laughter, the chatter, the festival lights—it all blurs.

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

Your voice barely comes out, a whisper against the space between you.

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

His hands tighten for a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches. And for a brief, fleeting moment, you think you see something—something raw and unspoken flash through his eyes.

But then, like a switch flipping, he lets go.

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

And you’re left standing there, alone in the middle of a festival meant for love.

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

And now, it’s time for you to make yours.

You have to move on.

That night, you decide—Jungkook was never meant to be yours.

It’s a painful truth, one you’ve been avoiding, but tonight, you accept it.

Needing a distraction, you start clearing out your closet, pulling out old clothes, forgotten trinkets, anything to keep your hands busy. That’s when you see it.

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

You had snatched it from his hands that day, barely able to meet his gaze before bolting out of his apartment and driving straight back to your dorm. You had shoved it deep into your closet, hoping that if you buried it away, you could bury your feelings too.

For a moment, you consider throwing it away. What’s the point of holding onto it now? Jungkook knows. He read the notes, saw every piece of your heart laid bare. And in the end, it changed nothing.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

One by one, you pull out the little folded papers, unfolding memories you once held so close.

"I don’t know when it happened, but one day, he became my favourite person."

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

"I wish he knew how much he means to me."

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

The weight of it crashes over you all at once, and before you can stop it, the tears spill over, hot and relentless.

You clutch the notes to your chest as silent sobs wrack your body.

You’ve been holding the pain in for too long.

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

Forget having a Valentine this year—you don’t even have a best friend anymore.

So you stay in bed all day, buried under the covers, refusing to acknowledge the world outside.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to last year’s Valentine’s Day.

You and Jungkook had gone out for dinner—not as lovers, not as anything more than friends, just two people who didn’t have dates. You remember how he laughed at the terrible restaurant music, how he stole fries from your plate like they were his.

You miss it.

No—wait. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

Shaking off the thought, you grab your Nintendo Switch and start playing, trying to distract yourself.

Then the doorbell rings.

You ignore it. Joy is probably home—she’ll get it.

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

Then it hits you—she probably stayed over at her boyfriend’s place last night.

With a groan, you push off the covers and make your way to the door. You swing it open, ready to shoo away whoever it is—

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

You stare at the jar, a strange sense of familiarity creeping in, but you can’t quite place it.

Where have you seen something like this before?

Your mind scrambles for an answer, flipping through memories like pages in a book, but nothing surfaces.

With hesitant fingers, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the cool glass against your palm. It’s heavier than you expected.

That’s when you notice the writing on the lid, scrawled in red marker.

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the moment feels unreal—like you’ve stepped into a dream.

It’s only then that you notice the jar is filled with tiny rolled-up notes, crammed inside like secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Your mind starts spiraling.

What is this? Who left it? Why does it have your name?

Your hands tremble as you twist the lid open, the slight pop of the seal echoing in the silence.

You reach inside, fingers brushing against the countless little slips of paper.

With bated breath, you pull one out.

You carefully unroll it, eyes scanning the words scribbled in rushed, familiar handwriting.

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes trace the messy yet unmistakable handwriting.

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

The realization slams into you with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

The crowd. The music. The overwhelming blur of people around you.

You had stumbled, nearly falling, only for Jungkook to catch you. For a fleeting moment, he held you close. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

You had searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

You had wanted him to say yes. Even a little. Anything to make the ache in your chest feel less unbearable.

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

And then he had let go. So fast, like touching you had burned him. Like you meant nothing at all.

You remember the way your heart had cracked, the way he had disappeared into the sea of people, leaving you stranded in the middle of a festival meant for love.

But now—

Now you stand here, gripping a jar full of his words.

"I lied."

Your hands fumble as you reach into the jar again, pulling out another note.

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

"I thought if I pushed you away, it’d be easier for you to move on. But the truth is, I don’t want you to."

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

Your mind reels, and suddenly, you're back at the rooftop party—drunk, vulnerable, spilling your heart out in slurred words.

“I liked you, you know? But now I realize I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook had stood there, silent, unreadable, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

And then, just as effortlessly, he had turned away.

"You'll be fine," he'd said before walking off, leaving you alone in the cold night.

The memory burns like an open wound, and yet, here you are, standing in your doorway, holding the truth he should have told you that night in the palm of your hands.

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

"I missed your birthday on purpose because I wanted to give you something that lasts longer than a text."

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, but it fades just as quickly as the weight of his words settles in.

You reach into the jar again, pulling out another note, heart pounding against your ribs.

What you didn’t know was—

Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

He had sat at his desk that night, a dozen crumpled papers around him, rewriting the same message over and over, never satisfied. His hands had been shaky when he finally folded the note and slipped it into the jar.

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

Because deep down, he knew—if he told you how much you really meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to push you away anymore.

And that terrified him.

Your grip on the jar tightens as you pull out the next note.

"I was scared you’d see me in the library that day. And you did. I almost stopped writing. But I wanted to finish this for you."

Your breath catches in your throat as a memory rushes back—

The library.

That afternoon, when you had finally dragged yourself back to campus to study for your exams, you had seen him sitting at your usual table, scribbling something into his notebook.

At the time, you thought nothing of it—until you watched him tear out a tiny slip of paper and slip it into a jar.

A jar.

The very same one you now hold in your trembling hands.

Back then, you had turned away, assuming it was for Hana.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

Your vision blurs as you stare down at the tiny rolled-up messages still waiting to be read.

He had been writing to you all along.

By the time you reach the last few notes, your hands are trembling. Maybe you can’t even read them through the tears clouding your vision. The weight of all those misunderstandings—every ignored confession, every painful silence, every moment you thought he didn’t care—crashes down on you all at once.

Your breath is uneven as you unroll another slip of paper.

"You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I always did."

A sob escapes your lips, the ache in your chest unbearable.

You clutch the jar against you like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held—because it is. Because it’s him.

Every unspoken word. Every hidden feeling. Every truth he was too afraid to say aloud.

And now, you finally know.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom of the jar, realizing the significance—there are exactly 100 notes, just like the box you once gave him.

With shaky hands, you pull out the 99th note.

“I was always bad at saying things out loud. So I wrote them instead. I just hope it’s not too late for you to read them.”

Your chest tightens.

You take a deep breath and reach for the last note, your fingers trembling. Slowly, you unroll it, heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

The paper almost slips from your fingers as your vision blurs with fresh tears. A shaky laugh escapes your lips, somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

After everything, after all the silence, the pain, the misunderstandings—he’s finally saying it.

And suddenly, all that matters is what you’ll do next.

The moment the words register, you don’t think.

The jar nearly slips from your grasp as you scramble to your feet, your heartbeat hammering louder than the thoughts racing through your mind. Jungkook. He couldn’t have gone far—he must have just dropped it off.

You fling the door open, barefoot, barely even stopping to grab your keys. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You sprint down the stairs, nearly stumbling in your rush to get outside.

Your eyes dart wildly around the street, your breath coming out in frantic puffs. Where is he?

Then, you see him.

A few feet away, Jungkook is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, head low like he’s already bracing for disappointment. Like he’s already convinced you won’t come after him.

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

You don’t stop running until you’re right in front of him, breathless, clutching the jar close to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

His eyes widen when he sees you—messy hair, no shoes, trembling hands still gripping his gift like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You swallow hard, voice shaking. “Did you mean it?”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, the night stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Then, barely above a whisper—“Yeah.”

Your chest heaves, breath uneven, voice shaking as you clutch the jar tighter.

"You absolute—jerk." Your voice wavers, but the anger, the hurt, the sheer weight of everything he’s put you through spills out in every word. "You sat there, letting me think I meant nothing to you. And the whole time, you were—" You shake the jar, almost laughing in disbelief. "—writing these?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say next.

"You could’ve just told me, Jungkook. You could’ve just—" You pause, gripping the jar like it’s the only thing holding you together. "Why? Why lie to me?"

He exhales sharply, his voice rough, like he’s been holding it in for too long.

"Because I was a coward."

You blink. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so easily.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. If I let you think I didn’t care, maybe you’d move on. Maybe you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like I did."

Your throat tightens. Your fingers dig into the glass of the jar. "You were the one hurting me, Jungkook."

His eyes finally meet yours, and the weight of them almost knocks the air from your lungs. He looks wrecked.

"I know." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why?" Your voice trembles, frustration bubbling over. "Why did you let me think I was chasing something that wasn’t even there?"

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he doesn’t answer. But then, his voice comes, low and raw.

"Because I was afraid you’d realize you deserved better."

Silence settles between you. A silence so thick it presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You stare at him, your vision blurring. You should walk away. You should scream, cry—anything. But instead, you do the only thing you can think of.

You reach into the jar, grab a note at random, and shove it into his hand. "Read it."

Jungkook hesitates. Then, slowly, he unfolds the paper. His fingers tremble as he reads the words he once wrote.

"If I had been braver, I would’ve told you every single day how much you meant to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with something you can’t quite name.

"Say it now," you whisper.

Jungkook's breath catches. His grip on the note tightens like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

You wait. Trembling, heart pounding, eyes locked onto his. Daring him to finally, finally say it.

He exhales shakily. His voice is low, rough—like it hurts to speak, but he does anyway.

"Y/N…"

You don’t look away. Don’t let him run from this.

His throat bobs. His hand curls into a fist at his side, then slowly unclenches.

"I love you."

A sharp inhale cuts through you. Even though you were waiting for it, the words hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it—just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft—it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding—crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh—one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint—only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive—like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time—exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking—only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you—slow and lingering, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched—except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything—after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence—but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt—for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shifting—softening, melting—as if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar—the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then—you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

[userlaylivia]

@emilyskinners, @bosesmikas, @vampirehizzies

[fear-is-truth]

જ⁀➴ HOW THEY CELEBRATE VALENTINE’S DAY WITH YOU

ft. bruce wayne ‧ dick grayson ‧ jason todd ‧ damian wayne ‧ tim drake — headcanons

a/n: happy valentine’s day !! ♡

BRUCE WAYNE doesn’t really care about valentine’s day. he cares about you, though, which means he acknowledges it, even if he’d rather ignore the whole ordeal. a private dinner, away from prying eyes, in a restaurant where the lighting is low and the waitstaff are paid to be invisible. at some point, he slides a gift across the table—carefully chosen, either indulgent or deeply personal. a diamond necklace, or maybe a signed first edition of your favourite book—something you’d mentioned in passing months ago, tucked away in a conversation. he remembered. later, in the limo, bruce pulls up the partition before finally, finally catching your mouth in a kiss.

DICK GRAYSON loves valentine’s day. loves love. loves you. so he goes all out. you wake up to breakfast in bed: heart-shaped pancakes smothered in syrup with strawberries piled high. the card he hands you has a corny pun, but devastatingly sweet. he pairs it with an enormous teddy bear (too big to fit on the bed) the whole day is an adventure—ice skating, movie, rock-climbing, and when the sun starts to dip under the horizon, he leads you to the rooftop, setting up a picnic under the stars with an overpriced bottle of wine.

JASON TODD thinks valentine’s day is bullshit. it’s a scam designed to separate idiots from their money over overpriced chocolates and flowers that die in a week… but if it matters to you, then it matters. so he shows up at your door, a second helmet in hand, jerking his head toward the motorcycle without a word. he takes you on a ride through the city, the wind whipping past, your arms wrapped around his waist. when you get back, instead, when you get back, he orders greasy takeout—nothing fancy, just what you both want. the food barely lasts ten minutes before it’s abandoned, containers shoved aside, forgotten as he pins you onto the couch. the whole night was just prelude to this.

DAMIAN WAYNE does not partake in artifice or frivolity. no, he doesn’t acknowledge valentine’s day at all. the flowers, chocolates, saccharine bullshit irritates him. but you wake up to find a oblong wrapped package on your nightstand, and when you open it, it’s a weapon. a beautiful, custom-forged blade, perfectly balanced, your initials engraved into the hilt. when you ask him about it, he barely glances up from his sketchbook. if you are to be involved with me, you should be properly equipped. but you think you can see the tiniest flicker of satisfaction when you tell him you love it.

TIM DRAKE planned the entire thing weeks in advance. he’s always been an overthinker, and wants everything to be perfect for you. he shows up at your door slightly frazzled, running on caffeine and pure determination. over dinner (the reservation booked since christmas), he hands you a small velvet box. inside, a minimalistic yet stylish bracelet—just when you‘re about to thank him, he just smirks and presses the clasp. it’s not just jewelry. it’s a custom-built device, wired with a discreet GPS tracker, a silent distress signal, and—his personal favourite—a high-voltage taser disguised as a charm. just in case, he tells you, like it’s an afterthought.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 18 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You find out why you have been feeling so sick lately. Some things are good. Some things are bad. And other things are straight-up cruel.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues/abortion, kidney failure, poisoning, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The voices were so soft that you barely even heard them, but you knew they were there.

You were probably dreaming. But what were you dreaming about? What had you dreamed? Were you already fully awake – awake enough to forget what you had been dreaming about?

A sharp pain in your arm made your eyes flutter open and you glanced around in panic. It suddenly all came back again, quick and unyielding.

The blood. He had to be dead. But, God, why was he dead? And why had he followed you?

Your gaze flew around the room, helplessly trying to recognize where the hell you were, when it suddenly dawned on you. You weren’t home.

Maybe you were indeed still dreaming.

Or maybe it was a nightmare you were caught in.

You gasped loudly and tried to sit up, only to feel a pair of gentle, yet firm hands, push you back down.

“Stop, I- What-“

“Shh.” He kept you gently pressed against the bed and regarded you with a look so tender and concerned, it immediately increased your panic. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re in the hospital. You’re alright.”

You glanced around, only to then realize it. The white walls, the neon lights, the rustling and the people around you. One looked like a doctor, another one like a nurse, but she left quickly.

It slowly came back to you. The wardrobe. The dizziness. The god-awful amount of blood. Your first impulse was to ask him what had happened, but you kept quiet. Everything was just too much – and his expression was by far the worst about it. His brows were furrowed in concern and his eyes were soft and cautious, as if he expected you to pass out again any moment.

He hadn’t even managed to get properly changed. You still saw the faint traces of blood on his shirt, right under his jacket. And even his hands had that light, red glow of someone who had just butchered a lamb.

The faint cut right above his eyebrow was new. And it made your heart clench.

“What happened?” You whispered hoarsely. “How long was I-“

“The doctor was just about to explain.” He said as he gently squeezed one of your hands in his both. “I told him that you don’t speak Korean. He’ll explain it in English.”

Your eyelids fluttered in confusion. He was behaving so…odd.

Of course he had been gentle before, no question. But this was so entirely unlike him. He was so soft-spoken and careful. It was hardly the same man.

When the doctor cleared his throat, you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at him instead. You were filled with dread, far more so than ever. Something was wrong, you could tell. A part of you expected him to tell you that you were going to die soon. Who knew? Maybe you would. It wouldn’t have surprised you. That was just what your life was like. Predictable and disappointing.

“We ran a few blood tests, miss, as I just now mentioned to your husband.”

Husband. The word rang in your ears.

You nodded.

The doctor, a man in his middle-age with kind eyes and a certain softness in his voice, sighed softly and slowly sat down on the chair by your bed.

“I have bad news and good ones. I would like to start with the bad news.”

You felt him tense beside you and his hold on your hands tightened ever-so-slightly.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze, you realized, he wasn’t looking at you. Instead he was staring at the doctor before you, his eyes fixed on the man and his body rigid on his own chair.

You nodded again.

Oh God, what now?

“The reason for your breakdown was a circulatory collapse. That in itself isn’t all too bad. Your husband informed me of the fight you witnessed.” The blood on him. Clever. “That level of stress, combined with your high blood pressure, were what caused it. I ran a few blood tests and that’s where it gets complicated. I’m sorry to inform you that one of your kidneys is in the process of failing.”

You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had always known this would come someday. But you couldn’t help but ask.

“The slow one or the other one?” You asked quietly.

You felt him stiffen beside you and the pressure on your hand was almost painful by now. He stared at you with an incredulous look. “What do you mean the slow one?”

You found yourself staring at the doctor instead. Maybe you should have told him, you suddenly realized.

The doctor kept staring between the both of you, before he hesitantly settled his gaze on you again, after you just so openly ignored your husband, waiting for his answer.

“I think your wife is referring to her birth defect. She was born with a kidney that’s rather small and has a hard time keeping up the process of cleaning her blood, as while the other one is normal in size. But unfortunately, that’s not the one failing.”

You closed your eyes. “So, the good one.”

“That’s the thing. I noticed something about it. I found your blood levels concerning, so I ran a few more tests. There’s a lot of protein in your urine. Have you had a history of using the bathroom often?”

“Yes.” You said quietly. “But it was always like that.”

“Did it lessen over the years?”

That made you pause and you took a moment to actually think about it. Looking back, as a child, you had to use the bathroom at least every hour. But these last few years…

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

He nodded with a solemn expression on his face. “I assumed so. I have a bad idea about what might be going on. I’m sorry to say this, but neither of your kidneys was working properly. They were just barely keeping you alive at this point.”

“Wait.” His voice was so soft that you barely even heard it, but it was enough to make the doctor’s head snap up.

“Yes?”

“So, she was born with one kidney damaged. And the other one is failing right now.” His grip on your hand slackened and so did his expression. You slowly turned your head to look at him and the sight of him nearly made you go pale. He was pale. His eyes were and his hair a mess. You had never seen him look like this before. He looked so…so…afraid. “Did…Did something cause her kidney failing? Did someone cause-“ He stopped and you felt the way his hands were shaking.

And you suddenly realized what he was asking. What he was thinking.

Did I cause her kidney to fail? Is it me who almost killed her?

You quickly reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but all he could do was stare at the doctor with the same horrified look.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, clutching the papers in his hand and he sighed deeply.

And to your horror, he nodded. “I’m afraid it were indeed external circumstances that caused your wife’s kidney to give in. I’m afraid someone might have poisoned her.”

For a moment everything was quiet, except for the soft humming of the machines, the slow drip of the IV. But then something in his face changed. The fear turned to the same murderous look he held whenever he got so ungodly angry.

“Poisoned her?” He said slowly.

The doctor nodded again. “I’ve found her sodium chloride levels are concerningly high. And unless she hasn’t been eating spoonsful of salt every day for months or years of her life, someone might have slipped her a preparation.”

His expression changed yet again and now he looked at you with a mixture of fury and pleading; pleading to believe him that it hadn’t been him who tried to poison you. But you were already more than aware.

“I know who did it.” You said quietly. Both of them stared at you in shock.

“What?” Asked the doctor.

You nodded slowly. “My mother. She gave me medicine for my slow kidney since I turned fourteen. I never questioned it.”

The doctor’s expression turned sour at the mention of that. “If that truly is so, we have to inform authorities and-“

“My mother is dead.” You said without flinching.

“Oh, that’s…alright, then. However, it would make sense. It’s good you stopped taking the medication. Had you continued to take it, it might have caused a cardiac infarction. Your husband said you just recently turned twenty-five. That’s not normal. It was highly intentional. Your mother caused great harm on you, miss.”

You took a slow breath to try and keep yourself from crying, but it was useless. Tears clouded your vision and you hid your face behind your hands.

Despite the tension in his body, the anger coursing through his veins, his hands were gentle in your hair.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in a mixture of furious and tender. “She won’t ever harm you again. No one will.”

It took you a few minutes to finally calm down again, but when you did, he gently pulled your hands from your face and looked at you with the same concerned look.

“So, what does this mean now?” He asked the doctor. “What will become of her?”

The man looked down at the files on his lap and shook his head. “On the long term, she will need a kidney transplant.”

It was the worst thing he could have said. The worst. A quick death was what you always anticipated and hoped for. Him losing his patience and shooting you in a fit of anger didn’t sound half as bad as that did. You knew how these things ended. You’d get on a list and you’d never ever get a kidney in time. And if you did, your body would fight it and you’d end up dying anyway.

He seemed to have the same thoughts, because you felt him freeze. His grip on your hand stayed the same, but all the color drained from his face. “Transplant?”

The doctor nodded. “On the long term, yes. We already put you on the waiting list, miss. We’ll do our best, I promise you and I stand by my promise. You’ve been through so much and you’re so young. We’ll do our best for you. Until then…you’ll have to go with dialysis.”

You were crying silent tears, begging and praying on the inside.

God, why me and why that? Why couldn’t it have been me who fell on the trainlines instead?

“Dialysis.” Your so-called husband responded in a breathless whisper. “That…that’s not so bad, right? It’s not like chemotherapy.”

The doctor nodded. “It’s still a great effort for her body to take, but it’s not comparable to cancer. She’ll be weakened, yes, but she’ll be able to perform basic tasks and take care of herself. And we’ll be working to find a kidney for her as fast as possible. A kidney isn’t as hard to find as a heart would be. It’s not likely. You might even get lucky and have a donor in your circle.”

He released a slow breath and drew gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“You said you had good news for us?” He asked quietly.

The doctor nodded slowly and set the papers aside. His expression calmed somewhat and he regarded you both with a long look, before his gaze settled on your face.

“You’re seven weeks pregnant.”

He might as well have punched you, because that was exactly how you felt.

You wanted to react, in any way really. But you had no idea how you felt. How you were supposed to feel. You only knew that you were terribly afraid.

And so you slowly looked over to the man hunched beside you, trying to gauge his own reaction. Was he happy about this? Was he angry? His face gave nothing away. He looked dumbstruck. And for the first since you knew him, he looked genuinely terrified.

“Pregnant.” He whispered.

His gaze slowly wandered to you and back to the doctor. “But her kidney-“

“It is not impossible to carry a child in her condition. There may be a few complications and the risk is slightly higher than it would be if she was completely healthy, but it isn’t impossible.”

“What does slightly higher mean? Higher chance to die? No, forget it.” He bit out. “We’re not doing this.”

“Forgive me, but-“

“No.” He said firmly. “I’m not going to let her die over this.”

The doctor cleared his throat and nodded. “I understand that. And what you’re going to do will be you and your wife’s own decision in the end. I’d just like to make the following clear: She can still take the dialysis, even while pregnant. We could perform a peritoneal dialysis. It would have to be done every day, but she could do it at home. It’s rather uncomplicated.”

He was still rigid beside you and just as he was about to snap at the doctor again, you spoke in a quiet voice, causing him to stop himself.

“Would it harm the baby?”

The doctor smiled a gentle, reassuring smile. “No.”

“And the baby wouldn’t have any disadvantages due to my lack of a functioning kidney?”

“There’s always the possibility that the baby might come early. We’d have to keep a keen eye on its development, of course. It could be that it gets born with a birth weight of under 2.500 gram. That’s not uncommon for cases like yours, but it by far wouldn’t be the first one.”

You felt your insides twist painfully. Everything was simply too much. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that your own mother tried to murder you for some reason and now you were here. Pregnant. Talking about things like birth weight.

“Am I-“

“I told you, this isn’t up for discussion.” His firm voice suddenly interrupted you.

You bit your lip and looked up at the doctor. “Could I get a moment alone with my husband?”

He immediately got up and gathered the documents surrounding him. “Of course. Take as much time as you need.”

The moment the door shut behind him, he shot you a crazed look. “There’s no way in hell you’re actually considering this.”

You stayed silent. A part of you wanted to fight him on this, but you felt weak. Too weak to argue, too weak to even speak. Something had changed, something had changed so drastically that you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. The only thing you truly knew…

“I can’t kill it.”

He took a deep breath and sat down beside you again. “We’re not killing it. It doesn’t understand what’s going on. It is too tiny to feel pain.”

“But it’s our baby.” The words slipped out in a pained whisper before you could stop yourself and the effect your words had on him was immediately recognizable. His eyes softened the same instant.

“I know.” He said quietly and reached for your hand again. “And I’m dying to have a baby with you. Really, I am. But not if it means you might die trying to bear it.”

“But the doctor said-“

He gently cupped your face in his palms and made you look up at him. “You’re sick.” His voice sounded as firm as it was gentle. His eyes were practically pleading with you. “You’re sick and I can’t lose you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gently circled his wrist in your hand. You were probably being manipulative, you were biased anyway. Unlike your mother, you immediately loved your child. You didn’t understand it. Didn’t even fully realize that it was truly there, inside you, but you loved it. And you couldn’t kill it. Never.

You gently got hold of his hand and guided it down your chest, until it reached your abdomen and you pressed it down softly.

His eyes followed your movement and he seemed to hold his breath. He wanted it just as much as you did, if not more. You saw it in his eyes. The tenderness. The pain. The instant protectiveness. Everything you loved about him.

The man who cut your hair and hit you when you spoke out of line, he was gone. The man who took your name and your identity from you, the man who threatened you, the man who scared you – he was nowhere to be found.

He was still the same, dangerous man underneath it all. You knew that. There was no way you could ever forget it. After seeing him murder someone twice – and maybe a third time – you knew what he was.

But in that moment? In that moment, he was somebody else.

The husband type of guy.

Your guy.

Your man.

And you were his. Only his.

He released a slow breath and his gaze slowly wandered up from your stomach to your face.

“I can’t.” He said quietly.

When you shot him a confused frown, he sighed and leaned back, but he kept his gentle grip on you.

“I can’t lose you.”

You sighed softly and gently tightened your grip on his hand. “But I might die anyway.”

His eyes darkened at that. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare even think that.” He hissed.

“It’s true.” You said quietly. “How high is the chance that I get a kidney in time? How many people live in Korea?”

“Don’t think about that now.” The determination is his voice was almost reassuring. Almost. Like he knew something that you didn’t. “I’ll find a way.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “All you need to do is focus on yourself, alright? Nothing else. I’m going to take care of everything else.”

“Okay.” You said quietly, even though you were not even close to convinced. What would he take care of? What did that mean? You had a bad feeling about it. “But I’m not having an abortion.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

You smiled weakly. “And you hate that about me, don’t you?”

Surprisingly he returned the smile and gently touched your chin. “I love that about you.”

His gaze wandered back down to where his hand lay and he slowly shook his head. “Are you really sure about this? It won’t be easy.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

His brows furrowed in thought and he didn’t meet your gaze yet. “I’m going to be a terrible father.”

That sent a spark of pain through you, because you heard the sorrow in his voice. What a silly man he was. Didn’t he see it?

“No. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

He scoffed and attempted to look away, but your hand shot out and you gently touched his cheek, guiding him to look back at you. He seemed surprised, but he still let you.

“You are going to be a wonderful father.” You said slowly and firmly. The firmness in your voice took you by surprise, but you didn’t back down. For some reason, you were more than convinced of your own words. “You’re going to be everything your own father wasn’t.”

Under the gentle touch of your hand, you felt him tense, but he didn’t look away and it wasn’t anger in his eyes. It was uncertainty. Fear, maybe. And a whole lot of disbelief.

“How would you know that?”

“I know how it feels to be loved by you.” You said quietly. It was true. He was a twisted freak, someone who had missed not many an opportunity to hurt you. But at the same time, he protected you. He cared about you and he went to extreme lengths for you. “Wouldn’t you die for me?” You didn’t understand your own question or why you asked it, but something made you. A higher power, something that took control over your mind and tongue.

His frown deepened and he tightened his grip on you. “What a dumb question.”

You nodded and gently caressed his cheek. “That’s why I’m sure.” You whispered. “I want this baby. I want our baby. Because I…I trust you to take care of me. Of us.”

He kept staring at you with the same thoughtful, pained frown, until he finally closed his eyes and gently buried his face against your midsection.

“You’re such a stubborn idiot.” He murmured.

You smiled and gently buried your fingers in his hair. “Such a harsh way to talk to the mother of your child.”

You heard his smile, even though you didn’t see it. “I have a few conditions though.”

He looked back at you with a stern glint. You raised a brow and waited for him to continue.

“You don’t do anything. All you’re going to do for the time being is lay in your bed, read your books and nothing more. You’ll leave everything to me and you’ll listen to me. Understood?”

For some reason, that made you smirk. “Or else what?”

His eyes darkened. “Understood?”

Your smile softened and you nodded. “Understood.”

He sighed deeply and regarded you with a careful look. He still didn’t seem all too convinced.

“Alright.” He murmured.

“One more thing.” Your eyes shot open and you looked at him, the softness and warmth gone from your tone. “What happened today?”

He tensed again and averted his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What? But that guy who followed us-“

“Shh.” He shot you a glare. “Stop it. No one followed us.”

You frowned incredulously. “I’m not letting you shut me out like this. Where did the blood come from? What did he want?” You said lowly, looking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one listening in on your conversation.

“This is neither the time nor the place.”

“You said something about my mother.” You suddenly remembered. “Before I passed out. Tell me the truth. I’m not joking. What about my mother?”

He clenched his jaw. He was losing his patience, but so were you. “I didn’t-“

Now it was you who shot him a glare. “Tell me.”

“Listen.” He said slowly as he leaned back and shot you another stern look. “I can’t have you stressed out right now. Did you forget what happened last time?” He tugged gently on the IV as if to remind you.

But you didn’t let him and you caught his hand in your own. “Tell me. Right now. Why did he follow us? Did he-“ Your eyes widened and your grip on him loosened. “Oh God.” You whispered. “Oh God, she sent him.”

He immediately caught you by the shoulders as you tried to sit up. “Calm down, okay? Stop this. It’s not that dramatic.”

“She sent him.” Your voice grew shaky in panic. The same woman who had systematically tried to poison you. The same woman who marked you. Who isolated you. The woman who was supposed to love you and give her life for you. “Did you kill him?”

“No.” He said quietly.

“No?”

He shook his head. “He’s in the wardrobe.”

You felt yourself go pale. “What? In the-“

“Don’t. Panic.” He said firmly. “I’m not letting him leave like that. I have plans for him. I’m going to find out what he knows and how he found it out. And I’m not letting him get back to her. I have his phone and everything else.”

The dizziness came back the same instant and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey, hey.” He murmured and gently touched your cheek. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. You’ll never see her again. I promise you. Over my dead body. And you don’t have to see him either. All of that is nothing but a matter I’m going to take care of.”

You nodded weakly, but inside you felt nauseous. How on earth did she find out?

“And the blood?” You whispered.

He scoffed. “The bastard tried to inject me something. And he even had a taser. What kind of man would use a taser?”

You took a shaky breath. “But he didn’t?”

He shook his head. “You think I’d let him?” He smiled bitterly. “When I looked outside, I saw his gun and I knew something was off. I immediately knew he wanted something from you. Why else would he have followed us? I also have no idea how he found the right apartment by the first try. There are many things I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out. But you.” He shot you a stern look. “You are going to stay in bed and do nothing but take care of the little one right here.” He gently prodded your bellybutton with his index finger and it almost made you smile.

If it wasn’t for your mother, you would have smiled.

“I can’t go back to her.” You whispered. “I’ll die before I do.”

He inhaled slowly and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “No one’s taking you away from me. And anyone who tries, will see.”

After a while, the doctor came back. He explained a few more things and after running a bunch of tests, he announced you wouldn’t have to go through dialysis yet. He’d have to check your kidney progress twice every week and there would be no way to avoid it, by the time your slow kidney decided to give up entirely.

But until then, you’d check your blood pressure three times every day and unless it got worse – you were free to act normal. Of course everything was a bit complicated so he prohibited you from taking any demanding tasks. But so far, and unless you weren’t taking the dialysis, your pregnancy wasn’t high-risk. He said that he would prefer it, if you took things easy – “Oh, she will, don’t worry. I’m not letting her leave the bed.�� – but he gave you green light for light tasks and intimacy. Before you left, he said something to the doctor in Korean. They both glanced at you quickly before they slowly left the room, leaving you there in confusion and suspicion.

The drive home was rather quiet. Both of you were lost in your thoughts and your fears, but he kept a possessive grip on your thigh the whole way.

“You can’t die, you know.” He suddenly said. “If you did, I’d follow you and kick your ass.”

You smiled softly and looked up at him, but his gaze was trained on the street and there was not a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I won’t.” You said quietly. “Who else would show you how to change a diaper?”

Now, that made him smirk. “As if you know that.”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll learn it together.”

He took a turn and parked in the car park. When he was done, he slowly turned to face you.

“Are you really sure you want to go through with this?”

“I am.” You said gently.

He took a breath and nodded. “Alright.” Just as he was about to open the door, you held him back.

“What did you ask the doctor?”

His brows shot up in surprise. “What?”

“You know what I mean. Before we left, you spoke in Korean. What was that about?”

He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. He got worse and worse when it came to lying to you.

“Come on, let’s get inside. I have to take care of a few things.”

___________________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Surprise, surprise. Hehe. Also, guys, I have a feeling I'm stuck between half the readers wanting more angst and drama and the other half wishing for more fluff. Might have to throw some flashbacks in?

Love you!

[witherby]

Wait I kinda wanna see mousy’s blow up 🤭

You can absolutely see the blow up 😏

The Littlest Wayne: Boiling Point

The post that inspired this response is Here!

Masterlist is Here!

You can't remember what started the argument. An errant comment, some joke in poor taste, an accusatory question — it could have been anything. All you know is that you said something you felt was important, Damian ignored it, Tim dismissed it, and Dick acted like you hadn't said it to begin with, and now you're livid and don't want to finish your dinner.

"May I be excused," you say to Alfred, already pushing your chair back from the table before he can respond. Your grandfather gives you a concerned look, but nods.

"Shall I bring something up to you later, young master?" He asks. You don't know if you'll have any appetite by then, but you agree anyway to spare his feelings.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asks, frowning as you stand to leave. "I haven't seen you in a week, honey. Even if you're not hungry, can you sit a while?"

"Whose fault is that," you snap. The room gets real quiet after that, a mixture of surprise and incredulity painting your father's face.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not making you go anywhere, dad," you scowl, "if you missed me then you'd find the time to see me."

"Hold on. I don't think that's very fair," Hal speaks up, reaching for your hand. You pull it away from him. "Mouse —"

"It's fine," you say, "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of one. I'm well aware. It's fine. We'll spend time together some other day. Go stop a robbery or rescue some damsels or something."

"What's with the 'tude, Flitty?" Dick pipes up, standing to block the door. "Pump the brakes for a sec. Talk to us."

"Talk to you? What, so when you inevitably forget this conversation happened you can pretend we never had it to begin with?" You sneer at your brother, looking him up and down. "No thanks. I'm not interested in being gaslit today."

"Gaslit?" Dick balks, looking like you struck him. "I've never —"

"Let them go, Dick," Tim says, twirling a bite of pasta around his fork. "It's just hormones. They'll go back to normal by tomorrow."

"Oh, of course it's just hormones," you scoff, whirling around to point a finger at Tim. "If it's got a logical explanation it's not worth dwelling on. Isn't that right? I can't be upset because I'm just going through puberty! There's no way it's acceptable for me to be upset over anything! My feelings don't matter, so they should be swept under the rug, just like your parents did to you!"

Tim drops his fork in surprise. A bit of pasta sauce hits Damian's check, and he grabs his napkin with an irritated grumble.

"This is such nonsense," the boy mutters.

"Everything that doesn't interest you personally is nonsense," you hiss at your youngest brother. "God forbid someone try to share their love for a hobby that's outside of what you find enjoyable. If the Blood Son doesn't give it his seal of approval, it's not worth the effort! Honestly, I should feel grateful you've blessed us with your presence at all! Surely your inferior siblings are barely worth your invaluable time!"

Your heart's racing. All the little, irritating things about your family that's been piling up inside you are spilling out. Your anger turns the internal hurt into external jabs and low blows, the darkest part of you wanting them to feel just a fraction of your pain at how flippantly they treat you sometimes.

"Sorry, did that upset you, Dami? Aww, it's okay! Like Tim says, it's just an emotional response brought on by some underlying factor! It won't last so it's not worth devoting your time to! And if you're like Dicky, you can just wave it away and say it never happened, no matter what you show him to prove it did! Maybe if you hadn't had the time to make it to dinner and spent weeks or months rushing off to do something more important at the start, you wouldn't have to sit through this conversation at all! Hope that helps!"

A hand comes down on your shoulder, silencing your rant. You whip around to find Jason staring down at you with a heartbroken frown. He looks so genuinely upset that any remaining anger dissipates immediately.

"Mousey," he whispers, "stop. Take a breath."

He looks so blurry. You blink a couple times and realize your panting and crying. No one will look you directly in the eyes except for Alfred, who's visibly tired. There's pity in his eyes.

It stings. God. Everything stings. Your face flushes with color as you realize what you've said and done. You want the earth to open up and swallow you.

It doesn't have to be the earth.

Before anyone can protest, your shadow wraps around your ankles and drags you down, then dissipates.

"Mouse, don't —" Jason kneels on the floor, just a hair too slow. "Fuck."

[spnseasonsgirl]

#supernatural #supernaturalthursday #Thursday

🏈🌟🌟🌟🌟

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 165.5/327

14.11 Damaged Goods Written by Davy Perez Directed by Phil Sgriccia Original Air Date: January 24, 2019

[sugurouge]

— switch up! sylus x f!reader

explicit content, smut, mdni. ༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚ praise, pet names (sweetie, kitten, princess, dear, sweetheart, my feisty girl), manhandling, size difference, minor degradation, female/male oral receiving, creampie, rough sex, (pussy) spanking, snowballing, multiple orgasms, reader wears a dress & makeup - 4.7k words

synopsis: luke and kieran convinced you to give sylus a special gift for valentine's day! you only had to promise them not to peek inside before your special night. little did you know the harm a small booklet could cause (alternatively: sylus receives sex coupons from his beloved for valentine's day and his ego is bruised)

a/n: this pales in comparison to the actual event

It was your first Valentine’s Day with Sylus, and you could barely contain the excitement bubbling inside you. The bond you have built—filled with layers of trust, passion, and understanding—already makes every day unforgettable, though today was extra special.

As the evening arrived, the anticipation of finally being with him after a long, busy day was almost too much to bear. Sylus had sent you flowers earlier, each bouquet more perfect than the last, and presents that showed how well he knows what you love.

But now, this night was just for the two of you. No distractions. No complications. Just love and passion, the way you knew Sylus would want it.

When he arrived to pick you up, he couldn’t help but smile at you in that way that made your heart skip a beat. You were wearing the dress he had picked out for you—a deep, rich red that made you feel like a goddess; his goddess. It hugged your body perfectly, showcasing your curves in all the right places while ensuring comforting room for dinner.

Upon approaching, you could see the way Sylus’ irises widened as they roamed over you, a subtle yet intense hunger simmering beneath their surface.

─── ❤︎

Dinner had been a tranquil affair, with Sylus insisting on making the evening as perfect as possible for you. He always wanted to take care of you, especially on days like this. When the meal was finished, you surprised him by handing him a small, neatly wrapped gift—something he had not expected. But the beautifully crafted bracelets inside filled his heart with more warmth than he would ever admit.

To openly belong to you, to match with you—it stroked Sylus' ego in ways you may never fully understand. “I will treasure it for the rest of my life,” he promised with a smooth, satisfied voice as he put the jewellery on for both of you, finishing yours with a kiss to your wrist.

It was then that Sylus saw the surprise waiting underneath the box.

You managed to keep your promise to the twins not to peek inside this present, even though they’d clearly told you it was for Sylus; from you to Sylus.

"Give it to boss-man," they’d said, the mischief evident in their voices making it clear that whatever was inside was meant to tease him. "You won't regret it, just trust us!"

Has trusting the twins truly ever paid off for you?

Sylus, ever the confident figure, sat back, looking at you expectantly with one eyebrow raised. His sharp gaze lingers on you before he takes the suspisiciously thin package from the table.

"What’s this, sweetie?" he asks, his voice low, smooth—just his usual nonchalant tone. "Another present? Are you the one spoiling me tonight?"

His fingers expertly unwrap the paper, revealing a small booklet. His eyes narrow as he flips through it, recognizing the contents: sex coupons. Upon that realisation, his lips curl into an wickedly amused smile, but there is a slight edge to it—a flicker of something that almost seems offended, but not enough to break his calm composure.

Why on earth would he need something like this?

Are you trying to tell him something?

Did he not satisfy you with his love and devotion?

But he always made sure to give you everything and more … 

Sylus breaks the silence after a minute of racing thoughts. "You think this is funny, kitten?" he murmurs, his eyes glinting with desire as they zero in on you.

Sylus leans back, giving you that all-too-familiar teasing smirk. “Are you trying to tell me I’m not performing to your liking?”

But you can see the challenge sparking in his eyes, the silent promise that he would take whatever ball you threw at his court and turn it into something far more unforgettable. 

“I—” you start, though how are you to even explain this mess? It is also your first time seeing the coupons as well.

You are definitely going to make the twins pay for this.

"Well, if it’s a challenge you want..." Sylus trails off, his gaze locking onto yours with that intensity that makes you feel both flustered and thrilled all at once.

He opens the booklet wider, scanning the contents as if weighing each one. The sly smirk on his face grows wider with every flip. 

Maybe now is the chance to make amends before it's too late. “Sylus, I had no—” but he is quick to interrupt you, his mind already too far in this little game without a care for who started it. 

“You think I need these to prove myself to you?” He leans in over the table of the restaurant, reminding you awfully well of the fact you are sharing this conversation in public. But Sylus doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem faced to admit: “I live to please you, sweetheart,” while his fingers brush over your wrist to trace over your matching bracelet. 

─── ❤︎

By the time you return to Sylus’ mansion, the only thing weighing heavy on your mind are impact the coupons had on Sylus. Your intention was to leave an impression with the beautiful bracelets, to have a sweet moment together with your devoted partner.

No wonder you find yourself standing across from Sylus, rooted in the doorway and watching with curious eyes as he pours himself a drink. 

The leader of Onychinus makes a return once Sylus sits down at the table in the same imposing room you shared an encounter in before he took you on your first bike ride. The same room you heard witnessed him disintegrate a man for his betrayal.

With those memories in mind, the atmosphere shifts and you’re suddenly fully aware of those predatory crimson eyes raking over your figure above the rim of his whiskey glass. 

Sylus watches you, clearly amused by your flustered state. His hand pats his lap, the gesture commanding you to join him. “Don’t be shy now,” he warns with honey dripping from his lips. 

The moment you settle on his lap, Sylus wraps his arms around you, pressing your body against himself before reaching your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His touch is insatiable, pulling you closer and closer, leaving no space for doubts or hesitation. 

The feeling of his muscles shifting beneath your touch, the growing erection pressing against you, and the heat of his body drive you to near that insatiable greed only he can bring out of you. 

It all makes your head spin. 

“You want to play, huh?” He chuckles against your lips, breathes a groan into your mouth as your nails graze his skin. “I’ll show you exactly what I can do, sweetie,” with that familiar predatory tone.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. His lips crash with yours all over again, taking control as he pushes his tongue past your parted lips, kissing you deep and demanding undivided attention. Your hands fist into his shirt, desperate to pull him closer, or push him away, you’re not sure once air seems to slip from your lungs.

Sylus’ fingers are already working their way up your thigh, his lips come to trace the curve of your neck to revel in the unfiltered reaction in the form of your quiet gasp once his touch slips beneath the hem of your dress, drawing so close to where you want him most. 

Truly, not a second is wasted with a man like him.

Sylus’ hold on your thighs tightens, guiding you even closer, against the hard outline of his growing desire. "Is it better now, sweetie?" Sylus murmurs, his eyes darkened with desire as he watches your every reaction.

His thumb brushes against your kiss-swollen lips, and he can’t hide the proud smirk upon the sight of your already messy state. He also can’t refuse to lick off the spit he gathered from your lips, just to see you falter further.

“No,” you protest with a whisper as you fight to catch your breath. But the way you say it, so sweetly, almost as if you’re daring him to do more, has him looking at you with a quiet intensity.

"What? You want me to take you here on the table? In the room reserved for my guests? Aw... how naughty," he coos at you, exposing the whites of his teeth with an all-too-satisfied smirk as he tilts your chin with one finger.

“Can’t we just—” You pause, unable to think straight as the ache between your legs seems to only grow the longer he resists making a move. You shift in his lap, signalling in all the right ways how badly you want to skip the foreplay for tonight. 

But Sylus doesn’t budge. 

Why won't he budge? 

He always does exactly what you ask of him. 

The thought makes you act. Makes you chase, hunt. Lips searing his skin as you begin to litter his neck with lipstick kisses and demanding nips while you grind against his surely uncomfortable erection.

Sylus groans low in his throat, even if he tries to, he can’t resist you for long. His hands find your hips, halting your provocative movements just a moment before is patience runs thin. “Sweetie, you can't be serious...” 

But maybe that’s exactly what you need. A night without his gentle loving to remember how nice it is to be spoiled rotten by him and the comforts you're usually surrounded. Maybe he should allow some artistic freedom tonight.

Instead of finding words, you let your actions speak and tug at his dress shirt, pull off his neck tie, unbutton his expensive clothes swiftly all to finally get to his bare skin.

Greedy little thing.

Unable to talk but still so eager to get to the good part.

With a sudden shift in position, your back meets the table quicker than your mind could process, an overwhelmed gasp from the impact all you’re able to present once Sylus pushes the straps of your dress down and past your breasts.

He attaches his lips to your exposed tits, grumbling a rough “Entertaining at is, it’s still not enough,” in regard your antics. He devours you; kissing, nipping and sucking along your breasts before popping one nipple between his teeth. 

Who is in control now?

You arch your back in reaction, your lips part to let moans float through the air which only seem to grow louderr when you feel Sylus shamelessly grinding against you.

Firm hands reach around your thighs to pull your pussy further against himself before sneaky fingers find their way between your pressed hips, replacing his hard-on quickly in order to push your panties aside. 

“Let me thank you for your inspiring present, kitten,” Sylus murmurs before biting into your nipple hard. 

You try to find purchase on his body, nails digging into whatever fabric or skin they can find as your pretty pleas for him leave you breathless.

Your panties are snatched off your body in an near painful manner, yet it barely compares to Sylus’s mouth clashing with your pussy. Strong fingers dig into your inner thighs to spread you open for his assault. His sweet-talking tongue finally meets with your pulsing lips, mixing your slick with his saliva.

“I-I’m sorry!” you exclaim in a higher-pitched tone when the tip of Sylus’s tongue circles your clit, applying varying amounts of pressure on the little bundle to have you squirm beneath his lips. Though his broad shoulders keep you on display no matter how much you struggle.

The satisfied smirk on his lips presses against your cunt, and the vibrations of his deep hum leave you no other option but to tug on his hair, your legs struggling to remain open with every kiss and lick from your pissed-off lover.

When you finally open your eyes, you notice his intense stare that seems to have never left your face, basking in the glory he spoils you with as his tongue enters your clenching hole to feel your hips roll against his face.

Sylus’ hot breath against your skin only heightens your senses while his nose applies further pressure on your clit. His mouth is practically glued to your most sensitive parts, lapping eagerly at your folds and suckling your clit relentlessly until he feels your legs tremble in his hold.

But he doesn’t stop. Opting instead to fully drag the flat of his tongue over your pussy until his mouth latches onto your clit. The final nail to your coffin is the sudden stretch when two fingers seem to effortlessly slide themselves inside your convulsing walls.

Your makeup is long ruined, tainted by your tears and clamping hands over your mouth to stifle your frantic moans when Sylus pushes you over the edge.

The sensation has your hips lift off the table, inviting Sylus to grope your ass and push you mercilessly against him, continuing to stimulate your clit beyond your orgasm.

“Stop, stop, stop, please, it’s too much, too good…” you whine, yet your hips still move against his tongue, betraying your protests.

The mirth in his eyes is all he offers you to understand that he won’t stop tonight, that he is not done with you.

Sylus only pauses once he notices you calming down, placing a precise smack against your swollen lips like a writer sets the final words to his proudest work.

You jerk beneath him, almost thrashing in distaste upon your awfully aroused state and the delicious pain he puts on you.

It’s unfair of him to do this to you, to treat you like his toy, to do with you whatever he wishes. It’s unfair of him to unbutton his shirt in what feels like slow motion, exposing his sculpted body like it’s the best present he could ever give to you.

Your eyes roll to the back of their sockets when you hear his belt unbuckle, goosebumps decorating your delicate skin in anticipation of what’s to come.

That is until Sylus handles your body as if you’re nothing more than a feather in his grasp. His hold surely leaves traces as he pulls you impossibly closer. The head of his cock stretches your entrance with ease before he rams himself inside your already pulsating walls, spreading you open on his shaft and drowning in the way you swallow him without much resistance.

His actions steal desperately aroused cries from your trembling lips thanks to the burn he inflicts inside you. You arch up and try to get away from him, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you.

“My f-fuck, Sylus~” you wail, legs clamping around his small waist to suck him even deeper despite the pain. He is always a little too much to take for you, but the pride brimming in his eyes whenever you cream on his cock keeps you coming back until you’re formed just right to take him.

The feeling of your hot, wet cunt embracing his cock so willingly has beautiful groans clashing with your skin as Sylus’s lips attach to your neck. “So tight, so perfect for me...” he pants before his teeth graze your skin, teasing your already sensitive body further before he nuzzles his nose into the curve of your neck.

His soft affections stand in contradiction to his cock abusing your cunt like his personal toy. The way his hips almost painfully snap against your own undermining your strength difference only further.

Your arms find purchase around his shoulders, gently carding through his messy locks as his name falls from your lips repetitively.

A harsh slap to your ass rips a deep moan from you, which immediately shoots back at Sylus, as his cock twitches inside your clenched walls upon your desperate yelps and whimpers.

As your legs begin to tremble in his hold with raised moans falling from your mouth, a realisation dawns upon Sylus.

A chuckle follows, one that proves rather strained since he clearly is affected by the perfect embrace of your walls. “Are you into pain, sweetie?” a mere murmur against your racing pulse while he continously snaps his hips into you.

“And now you're cumming again already?” Sylus victoriously grins against your neck at the obvious answer to his question, your desperate clamping around his cock evidence enough for your nearing high.

Yet you nod frantically, burying your face in his silver strands while your tits bounce against his chest. “Please let me,” you whine.

“Please let you?” he echoes, with his thrusts slowing down to control your climax, bringing distance between your bodies so your fucked-out form is on full display for his greedy eyes.

Sylus takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers to he reveal your face to him. Your trembling lower lip and heaving chest are a gorgeous view, yet nothing compared to your teary eyes while your nails dig into the back of his hand.

“Let me cum, please, Sylus!” you beg in defeat.

Fuck, you've never begged before.

You wish you had the strength to smack him for his confident grin, but he leaves you whimpering instead as he pulls out from your drooling cunt, only letting the tip of his cock rest within you while he basks in your hatred.

“My feisty girl wants to cum so bad…” Sylus muses, mockingly brushing his fingers over your clit and pussy to smear your mixed arousal further. “Go on then, make yourself cum with whatever I offer you. Give it your best shot..” He whispers, the tip of his nose brushing against yours while he guides your hand down to your clit.

And you try, try so desperately to rub on your clit as you clamp around the head of his cock, cunt clearly trying to suck him back in as your hips rock in rhythm with the movement of your hands.

“Sylus,” is yet another attempt to get him to move again.

So he does. 

He slaps your overly motivated fingers away from your clit to replace them with his own in the same second he pushes hmself back inside you. Hitting your sweetest spots while he painfully pinches the sensitive little nub to send sparks running through your system.

Your fingers find purchase around his wrist, digging into his skin in desperation, while you want nothing more than to finally come undone.

“You feel so good,” he sighs in exhaustion.

Sylus pushes you over the edge with precise thrusts for you to cream around his cock. You're tugging nearly painfully at his hair as your moans mix with sobs and praise to his name.

"Mh... and you sound so hot," Sylus mumbles, his scorching gaze unwavering as he witnesses your orgasm wash over your glorious body. It is only then that he allows himself to cum deep inside you, his hand squeezing your boob as his teeth bite down on your nipple to control the overwhelming pleasure of his high, his moans rumbling against your body.

And you’re so eager to milk him dry, cunt pulsing around his sensitive cock for every drop he could share. Each shallow thrust spreads his load until you hiss and whine, complaining about your fucked-out state with gentle objections.

"I'm far from done with you, sweetie," Sylus promises.

Though you shake your drowsy head, and Sylus only nods in return while ensuring your eyes lock onto his face; as if that could change your mind.

"You were the one who gave me the coupons," Sylus reminds you softly, the memory sending another rush of anger through his blood. "Now let me make good use of the inspiration."

"But those were not—” you try to interrupt, but it seems like he has little interest in your rebuke. Instead, he pulls out of you, eagerly flipping you around to press your chest against the dinner table, displaying your ass to his gaze.

His cum leaking out of your pussy is the only thing he can actually notice, tempting his fingers to automatically push it all back inside your leaking hole as you wail in despair.

"I-I can't, please!" you curse as your body tries to crawl out of his reach once he begins to scissor his thick fingers inside you. Hot kisses along your spine leave a trail up to your ear, his strong body locking your smaller frame in place on the table, open for his actions. 

"Don’t tell me playtime is over already, princess," Sylus teases, "I’m sworn to please you, am I not?"

You know it's best to surrender once you make eye contact with him over your shoulder: The inquisitive glow of his right eye is a telltale sign for you to drop the act of defiance. 

He knows how much you enjoy this.

So, the hard expression melts as soon as Sylus witnesses your nod, and a soft smile returns to his face. "That's right. Now take it like a big girl, will you?" The words can barely count as a question since he immediately sheathes his eager cock inside your pulsing cunt all over again—stuffing his cum back inside you with each thrust.

Sylus pulls out once more, teasing your aching hole with the tip of his cock until your hips wiggle and desperate whimpers escape your lips.

So much for not wanting to go on.

"Beg for it," he commands, taking the opportunity to slide his tip up and down your puffy lips, running circles around your clit—intentionally pulling the words from your mouth. Y

es, he definitely got a rise out of your trembling begging voice earlier.

"Please," you bite out, though the teasing stimulations make it hard to keep your dignity. "Make me feel good," you use the words as a loophole instead of begging Sylus for his cock.

But your feistiness only amuses Sylus. It earns you another harsh smack of his hand on your ass, making you topple further against the table. Strong hands squeeze the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading it while your legs are being spread wider, nearly lifting your feet off the ground entirely by doing so.

"I think you can be sweeter than that,” his raspy nearly threatens before greedy lips latch onto your back. His hot tongue licks along your spine, while crimson eyes devour the intense shivers spreading across your skin. Sylus’ body drapes over yours as his cock prods against your fluttering entrance once more. 

"Sylus~,” you force his name out in a whiny tone, trying to lure him down the path of honey and sweetness.

Though your act ends the minute Sylus pushes himself further into you, the speed agonizingly slow yet so perfect to feel him spread your walls open for his thick cock once more.

You arch your back further, pressing your tits against the table and your ass against his hips, nails clawing on the hardwood.

"Aren’t you adorable when you’re being so obedient for me?” He praises in a whisper before chuckling near your ear. 

Sylus’ cock twitches inside you, hitting the delicate deeper regions once you grind against his movements. Creating an addictive addition of your clenching cunt as if you never want to let him go again.

His thrusts are calculated, with the way he pulls his heavy cock out ever so slowly, pausing just a split second outside your oh-so-inviting hole before snapping his hips back. 

The obscene smack of his thighs against your ass echoes through the room and mingles with your frantic moans as well as Sylus’ groans. "Creaming again, aren’t you?" he muses when your legs begin to quiver, barely managing to hold yourself up as your third orgasm threatens to roll over your body.

Your fucked-out expression meets his gaze over your shoulder, silently begging  Sylus to support your body. "Oh, my dear," he mumbles like a devil on your shoulder, the grip on your body adjusting. For one hand to push against your stomach, and the other to wrap around your neck, successfully holding you in a bicep lock while aiding your exhausted form to stay up as he fucks you through your climax.

"Just let go for me," Sylus encourages, in between his aggressive lips sucking marks on your neck.

You teeth find purchase on his forearm, digging into his skin to hear Sylus hiss in sheer pleasure. Nothing is more satisfying for him than to be marked by you.

Then, your orgasm rushes through your body, overwhelming all your senses with the intense overstimulation at this point. Your moans turn whiny as Sylus continues to fuck you through it, before he finally pulls out.

"Come here," he pants, exhaustion hitting your usually calm lover as well. Nevertheless, he swirls your nearly passed-out body around and pushes you down on your knees, with such ease as if you were made of jelly. He hesitates at your sight—he’s never seen you more submissive.

Though your shaky hands clamp around his thick thighs, digging into the muscles for purchase as your cheek rests on his right leg, tired eyes meeting his gaze when he runs a hand along your neck.

"Are you going to let me cum in your mouth, hm? I think the twins are traumatized from your moaning," he teases in time with his fingers grabbing your neck to pull your face close to his cock.

You can merely follow his guiding hands while nodding to whatever Sylus says until you feel the wet tip of his shaft prodding against your lips. Near automatically, your tongue darts out to kitten-lick around the head before taking him in deeper and deeper.

Your eyes remain glued to the view above: His heaving chest and flexing muscles, the nibbling of his bottom lip, and the slightly squinted eyes with a sweet scowl on his forehead. 

He is struggling. 

Large hands come to cradle the back of your head, a comforting gesture that turns desperate once Sylus guides you further down his cock until your nose is pressed against his groin. "Clean me up, sweetie. Taste yourself, go on," Sylus rambles near mindlessly while drowning in these sensations.

It’s a rare sight, it’s a pretty sight, and you want more of it.

So you bob your head, swirl your tongue and  hollow your cheeks until it is near impossible to deny the throbbing of his length while low groans turn to raspy moans. 

Though Sylus manages to command a final warning for you. "Don’t you dare swallow without my permission."

Your hand pumps along his shaft while your mouth collects his load, desperately trying to keep it all on your tongue. It’s a futile attempt as the white fluids already dribble down your chin, though nothing Sylus’ thumb can’t fix with a swipe before replacing his softening cock with his thumb. 

A moment later you’re already hoisted up to sit in his lap again, with his hand now gripping around your cheeks, pulling you down towards his face and forcing a pout on your lips. Sylus’ mouth captures yours in a searing, passionate kiss, moving with a hunger and desperation that steals the breath from your lungs, his tongue delving deep to taste you, him—everything at once. 

The grip on your figure adjusts to keep you in place while the mixture of his semen and your spit flow from your mouth onto Sylus’ tongue. The moan that follows is a deep, satisfied rumble inside his chest before finally pulling back to lock eyes with you.

Shamelessly, he swishes the concoction in his mouth while his nails tease up along your back. Though the seemingly tender gesture turns demanding once his hands lock around the back of your neck as he sits up to close the remaining distance between your bodies. 

Then, Sylus kisses you again, bending over your smaller frame when he returns the filthy mixture into your mouth, pushing his tongue against yours and creating the nastiest yet most exhilarating kiss you have ever shared.

The graze of his teeth over your sore lips brings the moment to an end. For him to whisper a "Swallow," with heavy eyes greedily watching you follow his request. 

The guiding drag of his thumbs down your throat encourages you to swallow until nothing but your pink tongue remains. Then Sylus pulls you close against his chest, mumbling a sweet “You’re full of surprises, kitten,” with his usual tender tone while you hide your face in the crook his neck.

As if he has any right to talk about surprises after tonight’s actions.

banner by @/cafekitsune

[circe69]

"had to get it in, couldn't wait around!" - s.r. x reader

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ who is it? simon "ghost" riley x you

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ what is it? enemies always fuck better, right? you hate him, or so you thought...

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cws: unprotected p in v, angry simon turned soft, huge d!ck, knife play kinda? ass play, heavy make out. word count: 2.4k

<3

"what the fuck was that about?"

you stomped into an empty, abandoned conference room and stood at the end of a long table, with one masked man sitting at the other end. your arms crossed themselves across your chest, and you popped a hip out to the side as you waited for his answer.

simon motherfucking riley was your arch nemesis. someone you didn't trust, never agreed with, and certainly never wanted to work with. but the world isn't fair. it keeps spinning even when you despise someone, and captain price couldn't care less about your feelings towards simon when it came to the thousands of lives you were saving every mission.

usually, if you're in a group, you don't dare speak to simon this way. you only nod your head at his commands and walk away, hoping that he's receiving the millions of telepathic "fuck you's" you put out somewhere into the universe. but now, you're alone, and there is no better time than the present to tell your lieutenant off.

"if you need to blow some steam, i suggest going for a few boxing rounds w' soap. he's always looking for-" he paused whatever ministrations he was writing on a file and looked up at you slowly, "an easy opponent."

you huff and smirk out of pure anger as you briskly round the table, making your way over to him. "I'm not here to fucking play around, lieutenant, I'm here to let you know I'm pissed because you gave everybody else an assignment overseas next month except for me." you paused and let his eyes meet yours as your strong volume turned into a whisper. "I've worked just as hard, if not fucking harder than the rest of these task force fuckers, and we both know I'd be a good shot out there."

when it comes to you giving your superior a piece of your mind, simon usually submits completely. he never fires back, to everyone else's surprise, and he always allows you to use him, so to speak, to yell at him and get everything out of your system before entering the world again.

but not today.

simon slowly stood up from his chair, keeping eye contact with you as he expanded to almost double your size in every factor possible.

the seconds felt like years as his eyes bore down into yours. your heart rate was doubling every time one of you blinked, and you had to tense every single muscle in your body just to remain stagnant in position. the silence was deafening, and as the seconds passed, you remembered everything you've seen this man do, every corpse he's thrown to the side like a piece of garbage in his way, every knife rusted and wasted because it's been buried deep in the jaw of his enemies, and the eyes that have seen all of this from the first person perspective, are staring right into your-

SLAM.

simons hand comes down onto the wooden table with the force of 10 men, it sounds like, and you couldn't do anything but jump. you flinch. you fucking flinch and it feels like you're waving a white flag.

His gloved fingers reach out to your chin and tug you by the jaw, forcing your face inches away from his, "I have fuckin' had it with your attitude. you can act like a bitch all you fucking want to price, to gaz, and I sure as fuck don't care about how you treat soap. but to me," he squeezes your chin to reinstate your obedience before drifting his hand to rest on your neck, "to me, you either respect me or don't say shit at all. so get used to swallowing your words around here from now on, cause there won't be anywhere else for them to fucking go but down your own throat."

coincidentally, you do swallow. hard and slow, and simons eyes watch and feel your neck bobbing as you begin to shake just slightly under his pressure. as he squeezes, a small squeak releases itself from your lips and you mentally kick yourself for it, knowing that's just what he wants. because once you let yourself go to the stormy waters that is simon riley, you'll never be the same again. he'll make sure of it.

"you say yes sir." his low voice whispered into the empty room, your face somewhere even closer than before, every minute that passes you move an inch. you still can't open your mouth, you're suffering from shell shock and there's no mercy to be found in the eyes of your shooter.

simon pulls out a blade from his thigh holster and presses it to your side, "say. it. now." he yells even louder. you feel the sharp sting of the metal start to break through the cotton of your shirt and tease your skin. a tear breaks free from your eyes, and you are completely gone. you're done for. absolutely dead in every sense but the physical.

"yes sir." you whisper, finally freeing yourself from some kind of paralysis. you feel the blade crash onto the table, as well as the sweet release of your neck from his hand. an extra wave of oxygen that you didn't know you were missing flowed though you in small gasps.

simon said nothing as he walked straight past you, out of the door, slamming it behind him. he left you, his knife, and a part of your soul, there in that room.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

it had been a few days since simon had blown any ounce of relationship between the two of you into ash and dust, and you can't tell if the looks simon gives you now are filled with rage or just empty. empty meanings, empty promises, because he just doesn't care. but ever since he's made it clear with you that he is not to be messed with, you've unfortunately want him more.

simon riley is a fucking apex predator, and in the past, you've just been standing there, petting him, taunting him, and expecting nothing to happen. well now, you not only expect it, you fucking want it. you dream about all the things he could do to you. but all the things he hasn't said just prove that he couldn't care less.

that night, the only news channel your small tv offers called for rain, a lot of it, mixed with thunderstorms and lightning. as you dry your hair off with a towel, you walk to your window and look outside. your stomach churns at the sight of the angry clouds heading your way. you absolutely despise thunderstorms, and you prefer for a long night because there is no way you would be getting any sleep.

"fuck." you whisper to yourself as it starts to drizzle.

you try to ignore it as you kick off your slippers and get under your soft covers, pulling your duvet all the way up to your ears to try to mute the sound. it was now raining harder, and occasional sparks of electricity lit up your room from the sky, so you tossed and turn all night until you finally fell asleep.

it wasn't until hours later that a large boom of thunder shook you awake. you sat up immediately in a panic, gasping for air and looking around you as if you were expecting anything, something to explain the sound. tears started rolling down your face not only in fear, but in frustration also. you were so upset and so tired. you needed something, someone. just to tell you it was going to be okay. you slipped out of bed with a shaky hand clutching a necklace around your neck as you opened the door of your room and walked out.

the cold air of the hallway caused your skin to raise up into goosebumps and your nipples to pebble through your thin tank top, and even as you crossed your arms over yourself, it wasn't enough.

you headed straight for a door right down the hall. one with a name on the wood that you never thought you would go to in need in a million years. but you didn't know what to do.

your small knuckles rapped on the door, right underneath a nameplate.

simon "ghost" riley

you hear heavy footsteps and several locks unfastening before the door swings open.

a maskless man appears, with no shirt, and a large hand rubbing the side of his face. he was no doubt asleep before this. his eyes squinted as he leaned against the doorframe, trying to adjust to the light. your jaw hung slightly agape at the sight of him, so human. so disgustingly human who's done such non-humane things.

his eyes swept over your face as he noticed the tear stained cheeks, reddened from lack of sleep and continued down your body, down your full teardrop breasts, across your bare stomach, your sweatpants that hung loosely off your hips, and no words were spoken as he grabbed you by both forearms and drug you inside his room.

you gasped as he moved you backwards towards his bed, his much larger and comfier bed, and you no longer had any reason to stop him as he drug you under the covers with him. you couldn't believe him as he snuck in close to you, silently, as if it were normal.

it wasn’t until you felt an arm come up to rest upon your hip, and the floodgates opened. you couldn’t stop tears from rolling down your eyes. you were so confused, so scared, so fucking tired. small whimpers and gasps of breath continued.

“shhh.” came from simon’s mouth as he pulled you closer and softly squeezed your hip.

“you hate me” you whispered back, sobbing louder.

“hm-mm, no.”

“yes, you fucking hate me and you’ve just pulled me into your bed,” you start whining louder as your hands reach up to cover your face.

simon’s eyes slowly opened to look into yours before swatting your ass ,”quit crying n' go to sleep.”

you only responded with smaller, shorter intakes of breath and sniffles.

“y’hear me?” he patted your ass where he had slapped it before.

you nodded and whispered, “yes sir.”

a growl tore threw simon’s mouth as he looked up at the bedroom ceiling before throwing his forearm over his eyes, “fuckin’ hell.”

this time it’s you who reaches out, as you place a small palm on his bicep. he flinches at the touch before sighing,

“c’mere puppy.”

you slowly crawl on top of simon, placing both hands on his arms before allowing your head to fall between his neck and shoulder. a warmth slithered through you as you relaxed into him, and as his hand slowly caressed and squeezed the fat of your ass, the warmth exceeded just below your navel.

you made the mistake of squirming, and he noticed.

he clicked his tongue against his teeth while pulling you closer, “stay still.”

“i-i’m trying to get comfortable-"

"well stop." he interrupted, "just relax."

the wind outside howled, as simon's breath and yours intertwined through the space between you. and just like the storms outside, simon was the most unexpected thing to ever exist. he was trying hard to not scare you off, to be gentle, even though every thing in him contradicts that. but you know better. you know that he is gentle somewhere behind that mask.

you squirmed again, "simon I just don't know what to do." you leaned up to look at him. and there it was, the look that he only gave you, the small and desperate iris' just begging for some kind of affection. even without much light, you could still see him grasping at the frays for you. seconds of intense eye contact went by for simon broke the silence,

"just kiss m'then."

you gasped, sitting back a centimeter, but then nodded. and leaned into his touch. into him.

the kiss was soft and delicate, your lips and his just barely overlapping as you took in his woodsy smell, pine and maple, but that was all it took to pull a groan from simon.

more, more, is all he thought as he grabbed you by the hips and prodded his tongue against your lips. you smiled at the action, and without hesitation, opened up for him completely.

it was nothing but violent, raw, and urgent, the way simon kissed you. you moaned into his mouth as he smacked the fat of your ass, "all it took," he mumbled, "all it took was a little tongue for you to shut the fuck up."

you whined at the loss of contact as simon struggled to pull your pants down, but it disintegrated as he swiped a finger between your thighs, "fuck." simon whispered at the wetness pooling from your sex. "how many times have I yelled at you and gotten you wet?" he said, as he flipped you both around so you were now in your back, head smushing the soft pillow.

you groaned as he discarded his sweatpants and boxers, leaving his cock to spring out against his stomach. "how many times, baby?" he asked again, "you think about me hurting you when you play with this pretty pussy?" his index reached out to circle your clit a few times.

you couldn't help it, your body was betraying you in real time as your walls fluttered around nothing. "yes, yes I think about it, I think about you all the time simon." your babbles spilled out of you like water, and simon was lapping it up.

he chuckled, "don't even n'to prep you, you're a fuckin' faucet, sweetheart." his lengthy cock, with precut oozing out of the tip, was begging to be inside you, begging to fill you up. as he grabbed his length and positioned himself to your weeping hole, he looked you in the eyes, "y'want this?"

your eyes met his and for a second, you felt some sort of fire igniting deep within you, why was he even asking? why did it feel like the monster he is was softening for you?

you grabbed his hip and thrusted yourself, notching the tip of him inside your walls. "yes, I fucking want this, simon."

he chuckled as he watched him disappear inside you, inch by inch, every fucking centimeter felt like a year lived without you. he needed to make up for it, because the one woman that he couldn't stand just happened to be the woman he couldn't live without.