#who 'always knew' and the one he listened to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lure-of-writing · 3 days ago

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Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: none

Summary: Bodhi is in love with you. Hopelessly in love. Unfortunately for him he can't say anything about it.

If you asked Bodhi when he first met you two things were certain. One, he would tilt his head to the side and raise an eyebrow in question. Two, he would give a small shrug of his shoulder before saying “Uh I don’t know?”. His statement always sounded more like a question. In his defence why would he know the answer to that question. There is no point in time where Bodhi can pinpoint the moment you entered his life. Unfortunately or fortunately depending on who you asked, you have always been there. Always a constant in his life and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh come on Bo don’t be like this.” You tilt your head slightly, your lashes batting so strongly he swears that there is a draft in here. Bodhi doesn’t budge, he keeps his arms crossed over his chest with a slight twitch in his clenched jaw. “You know I didn’t mean it right?” The teasing in your voice softens, just a little, just enough to know you really didn’t mean anything by your comment. “As cool as Xaden is, I could never replace you with him.” You pause for a moment before adding “His ego is too big for me.” Bodhi glances down at where you were sitting on the ground next to the chair he was sitting in. Bodhi wanted to say something sarcastic right back at you, but he couldn’t, the jealousy burning in his throat wouldn’t allow him to. Even if he could say anything he wouldn’t be able to; the way you were looking up at him, like you needed him to know you were only joking. Like what he thought truly mattered to you, it rendered him speechless.

Your friends- Liam, Garrick, Xaden and himself were spread out in Xadens room talking about nothing and everything all at once. Garrick being the instigator he is just had to ask you who you would pick to be stranded with and of course you being you said his cousin. He knew you were just trying to mess with him. To get under his skin. And it worked, of course it did. Bodhi would never admit it to anybody but he felt like he was always walking in Xadens shadow. Always second best, never good enough to be picked first. Your lighthearted teasing didn't make him feel any better, not when the jealousy hit harder than it ever had before.

Bodhi said nothing as you stared up at him. He stared down at you as you looked up at him, a frown was starting to replace your teasing smile. He hated that look, despised it really. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was seeing you sad. “Are you really going to give me that look?” he muttered, and you didn’t miss the annoyance painting his voice. But the moment he finally looked at you again you knew he truly didn’t mean it. With your eyes locked onto his nothing else in the room existed besides you. God he could never be mad at you, not when you look at him like that.

The glare he sent Garrick wasn’t missed by you but you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned your body to rest fully against his leg. Placing your head against his thigh. Bodhi would never reject your touch, not when it was so familiar. He craved the feeling of your body against his, more often then he would care to admit. With Bodhi ignoring you, Liam picked up the conversation, you were trying to listen but all of your attention was on Bodhi. Truly you felt bad about hurting his feelings. While he would never admit that you did, you could see it in the way his jaw set, hands flexing against his arms and his eyes flickering away from yours to hide his hurt. Bodhi could feel the guilt coming off of you in waves. Without even thinking about it he gently brushes his fingers through your hair. He may be talking to Garrick but you knew his attention was on you. This was his way of letting you know that he accepted your apology. The words “i’m sorry” never tumbled out of your lips but the way you leaned further into him and periodically glanced up at him in worry was an apology to him. Words weren’t needed, they never have been, at least not between the two of you.

“Bo?” The light nudge against his legs pulls his eyes away from Garrick and back to you. “Yeah?” His response was equally as quiet as yours was. His voice felt thick with an emotion he refused to acknowledge. He didn’t stop his ministrations. Instead he found that spot behind your ear and rubbed gentle circles on it before resting his hand on the base of your neck. His fingers still tangled in your hair. “Ya’ know I would never replace you right?” The guilt mixed with an undercurrent of pleading broke his heart. “I know sweetheart.” His whispered words sound a little rough even to him. But he meant what he said. Gently he squeezes the back of your neck in an unspoken promise. He wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what you were to follow.

“You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.” His words were an afterthought but he meant them. Bodhi bent forward slightly to reach eye level with you. His other hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair cupped your cheek softly turning your face to look at him. The limited space between you forces a sharp inhale of air into your lungs. Bodhi didn’t miss your near silent gasp or the way your eyes flickered over his face before looking at his lips and then back to his eyes. “Sweetheart I’m gonna need you to stop worrying in that pretty little head of yours, ok?” His voice was quiet but you felt them as if they had been screamed at you. That nickname he gave you never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He watched as you took in a shaky breath before lightly nodding your head. “Ok.” Glancing between your eyes he waited until he saw the guilt slip away and he swore love replaced it.

He needed to pull away, put some space between the two of you before he did something he would regret. Leaning forward just a bit more he angled your head up just slightly so he could place a kiss against your hairline. His lips lingered for a moment before pulling away. His eyes found yours again and you saw the small smirk forming on his lips. Maybe he should have kissed you on the lips he thinks to himself, especially with the way a flush of red makes its way to your cheeks. He wonders what would happen if he kissed you. After a light tap against your cheek he removes his hand and sits back in his chair, refocused on the conversation you hadn’t been aware of. His hand never leaves your hair though. With Bodhi’s focus back on whatever conversation was happening you lay your head back down onto his leg. The gentle kiss you place against his leg is enough for his brain to short circuit. The glide of his hand in your hair stops mid stroke. Bodhi feels his breath hitch in his throat while he was frozen for a second. Without thinking he hand tightens its hold on your hair before releasing once more.

Bodhi has never been more grateful to not have your eyes on him. The way his jaw tightens. The way his chest rises and falls just a little bit quicker than it should for sitting in a chair. He had to close his eyes for a moment to collect himself. Bodhi knew he was protective of you, maybe even a little obsessed with you but god damn if he wasn’t in love with you. Bodhi's heart sang from the feeling of your lips against his body. And he hates to admit it but for a second he thought about what your lips would feel like against his leg without pants blocking your way. After taking the moment to collect himself he clears his throat pulling your attention back to him.

The way you bat your eyes at him in anticipation causes him to clear his throat yet again. “I know you were joking but just don’t do that again ok baby?” He chuckles softly at the way your eyes widen and cheeks flush even brighter while casting your eyes downward in hopes to hide the shock you are feeling. There is nothing Bodhi loves more than seeing that shy bashful smile grace your lips all because of him.

“Where the hell is she?” Cuirs talons curled into the wet stone as Bodhi's voice rang out across the flight field. The grey clouds unleashed gallons of freezing droplets of rain upon every rider. Constricting leathers tightened with their newfound water weight. Across the blurred Bodhi could make out the red and brown dragon that was a part of your group but the emerald green scorpion tail dragon he was so used to seeing was nowhere to be found. Everyone from the training exercise had returned. Everyone but you. Time seemed to slow to a screeching halt as Bodhi took in the field before him. Short quick breaths pounded against his ribcage. Panic raised with bail in the back of his throat. “No..no” A panicked gasp of air cut off his train of thoughts. He was the only person who hadn’t dismounted. “Xaden! Garrick!” Bodhi could hear the raw desperation in his voice, he knew that other riders had heard it too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when everyone had returned but you. He would follow you to the end of the world without you ever having to ask him. It was no surprise to his two closest friends that he was willing to bring the wrath of the professors upon himself by defying orders and heading back out. He would do anything to find you. And if he found you- no he wouldn’t let himself think about that.

The terror gripping his voice propelled his friends back to their own dragons. Both men had done a quick scan of the field and knew what was wrong. They would have known without even having to look. Bodhi never lost control of himself no matter what. Unless it involved you, then all bets were off. Bodhi couldn’t control his protective instincts even when he tried. So he stopped trying.

Just as Garrick and Xaden were about to remount the powerful distinct sound of dragon wings could be heard approaching from a distance. Only one thing could be possible. You were returning with Aella. Once again time seemed to slow down. Minutes felt like hours. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime. The fall of rain seemed to double within seconds blurring his vision even more than it already was. Howling wind whipped the rain in all directions forcing other riders to lower their heads or raise their arms to at least protect their faces. Bodhi did neither. He wouldn’t not when the sound of wind being beaten into submission by powerful and strong wings could be heard from mere miles away. You were coming. He could feel it in his bones. It had to be you- there was no other possibility for Bodhi. Finally there was a shadow of a dragon and the vice grip his ribs had on his lungs loosened allowing him to take a deeper breath just by a fraction. Green. He saw green. It was a muted green but it was green nonetheless.

Dark grey heavy clouds limited his visibility but he knew what he saw. Rain was being pelted down towards the earth with the force of Aellas wings. Bodhi was a part of those that were in Aellas path but he could not care less. Not if that meant you were safe. He would stand under the frozen dagger feeling rain for his whole life if that meant you were safe. Gracefully Aella landed in the middle of the flight field where most of the other dragons had previously occupied it. He was moving before he even knew he was. He was on Cuir one moment and the next he was sliding down his own green dragon without an ounce of grace. “Y’n!” The waiver in his voice didn’t stop, no, it traveled throughout his whole body. The waiver transformed into different things. Trembling hands, burning eyes from unshed tears and lungs that were on fire from how quickly he was running towards you.

Something was wrong. If anyone possed elegance and grace even in the world of dragon riding it was you. The clumsy tumble down Aellas leg combined with the way you landed with a thud forcing you to roll onto your shoulder to prevent yourself from breaking a bone was anything but normal for you. Sharp painful breaths pumped his legs faster. He had to be faster. He couldn’t get to you soon enough. After what couldn’t have been more than two minutes Bodhi was finally in front of your bent over body. You were tipped over at the hips facing the ground. Both of your elbows rested upon your legs while you cradled your head in your heads. Something was wrong. Without thinking Bodhi unraveled your body forcefully crashing your body into his chest. “Thank god you are ok. I thought…. I thought you were.” Bodhi couldn't bring himself to say the words, not when his eyes burned and his lungs ached and he couldn’t stop the way his hands were shaking. “Are you ok?” He pulled your body away from his slightly to scan your body for injuries. Subconsciously his hands moved to cup your cheeks. “What's wrong baby? I need to know so I can help. But you gotta tell be baby.” Whispered words tumbled from his lips causing your eyes to meet his. Wordlessly you gripped his hands and pulled them away from his face. Silently he watched as you unzipped your flight jacket and pulled the side of your shirt up exposing a large bleeding gash decorating your skin.

“Who did this to you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. Nobody touched you. Nobody dug their dragger along your skin and didn’t pay for it. Bodhi was going to kill whoever did this to you. That was a promise. Bodhi was unable to pull his eyes away from your side as he spoke. “Sweetheart we need to get you to the healers, ok?” Your silence forced his eyes back towards yours. Water was pooling on your waterline and your lips where shaking in pain. Tenderly he pulled you back into his chest. One of his hands found purchase in your sopping wet hair while the other rested upon your neck. “It’s ok I’ve got you baby. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything like this happen to you again I promise.”

Bodhi hadn’t moved from the chair in his room. He couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were laying in his bed. Sleep had pulled you away from him. Not that he could blame you of course. He would never blame you. “Bo?” Your quiet voice pulled his attention away from his plot for revenge and onto you. “Yeah sweet girl?” He matched his voice to yours not wanting to destroy the peaceful environment that your presence had created. Outside his window it was pitch black but inside of his room warm flickers of light bounced around the room casting you in a beautiful light. Granted you were always beautiful in his eyes but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy what was before him. Wordlessly you watched as he made his way over to his bed. He perched himself on the edge of the bed right by your hip. Your watchful eyes traced his movement until you couldn’t. His hands where once again in your hair. Carefully he moved his hand down until it rested on your neck. He couldn’t help himself from touching your cheek. Lightly his thumb ran back and forth against your cheek.

“Will you lay with me?” His room was not warm by any means but suddenly it felt like a hundred degrees warmer and he felt the blood rise to his face. He was sure that there was a flush to his face. He had laid in bed with you a thousand of times before so he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly nervous. Deep down he knew why. Some part of your relationship with him had changed and he wasn’t sure what that meant. He wasn’t sure if he had to prepare to mourn all the ways he wished he could of had you. Swallowing the lump in his throat he glances out the window and follows the path of a raindrop along the window until he couldn’t follow it anymore. Turning back to your he finds your sharp eyes already resting upon him. Forcefully he cleared his throat once more before answering. “Of course, you never have to ask me that.” His voice wasn’t a whisper but it wasn’t normal speaking volume either.

Gently he pulls back the blanket helping you scooch over in the bed making more space for him before he climbed in. With a wince you pull yourself up and pat the pillow behind your head. Expectantly you look at him. A laugh falls from his lips “You could of just said you wanted to use my arm as a pillow you know that right?” The shake of his head does nothing to move his smile. “Why would I do that? You should know this by now.” Your words floated into the space above him. “You’re right I should know better.” This time it's a huff of air that leaves you instead. Bodhi missed the sound of your laugh but he knew it would be too painful for you to laugh at the moment so he enjoyed what he had. “Obviously I’m always right.” Your words were cut off with a wince. Bodhi went to push himself up so he could help you move but you shook your head and placed your palm on his chest.

Following your silent command he lays back down to his previous position, A soft grunt and a heavy sigh of relief later you were pressed against his side. One of your legs crossed against his chest and the other rested against his leg. Your head rested on his chest right above his heart. He waited until you were comfortable to move. Softly he moves to rest one hand below the cut on your side while the other finds its way to your bare leg. Absentmindedly his thumb begins to rub patterns along your leg. A few minutes of silence had passed before your voice filled the room. “Bo?” Slowly he opens his eyes to find yours are already looking at him. “Yeah?’ His eyes traced over your face while you fought to find the right words. He always knew you were stunning but here in his room with the gentle light dancing upon your face, your beauty took his breath away. “What happened out there Bodhi? The use of his first name caught his attention before the rest of your words did. You only used his first name when you were serious. “Huh?”

The words tumbled out of his lips before he could even stop them. Internally he cringes at his answer. “What happened out there with you? I’ve never seen you like that before. You were so- so panicked. You never panic.” Bodhi knew in this moment that it was now or never. He had been so close to telling you out on the flight field but he couldn’t not when you desperately needed to be seen by the healers. Bodhi sucked in a deep breath in hopes of calming his nerves. It did not. “I panicked because it was you. You hadn’t come back. Everyone was back but you and just the thought alone of something having happened to you worried me sick. But then you finally showed up, right as I was about to go searching you for and at first all I felt was relief. Until I watched you dismount from Aella and then the fear took over all over again. I could tell something was wrong but I didn’t know what it was and all I could think about was something finally taking you from me. And I… I can’t stand that thought. It makes me sick.” Bodhi's words came to a stop but still you said nothing. You could tell that there was more he wanted to say, more he needed to say, but he needed the space to find the right words. Without realizing it you had begun to rub soothing circles on bodhi's chest. Bodhi felt the warmth of your hand against his chest. The gentle comforting touch of your hand upon him was more than he could ask for.

“I am so in love with you. I have been for years. I could never bring myself to tell you. I worried about what it would do to our relationship but after seeing you like that. I can’t hold it in anymore.” Bodhi's hand encased yours pulling it to rest on his cheek but he didn’t remove his hand. If this is the last time he gets to have you like this he was going to take every moment presented to him. “I love you. And I understand if you don't feel the same. But I can;t keep it in anymore. I am so incredibly in love with you.” A beat of silence passed while your eyes bounce between his lips and eyes. Finally after what felt like forever a laugh rang out into the once silent room. Out of all the reactions Bodhi was expecting this was definitely not one of them. His raised eyebrow did all the talking for him.

“Oh Bo.” A sigh mixed with a breathless laugh tumbled from your lips. “We are such idiots. I am in love with you too. I have been since I met you but I never said anything because I was worried about it not working out.” A laugh of disbelief rumbled in his chest. He removed his hand from your wrist to rub his eyes for a long moment before laughing again. He pulled his hand down his face before placing it back on your thigh. “I can’t believe this. I have been on the verge of losing my mind for a year and a half because I was worried just for this to happen.” Bodhi shakes his head in disbelief once more. Even though he wished he had known this information earlier he didn’t mind. Not if it meant what he hoped it did. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Giggling, you lightly shook your head. Even though the movement was gentle it was enough to push a few hairs into your face. Without thinking he pulled his hand away from your leg and brought it out from the blanket to push your hair behind your ear. God he could never get used to the sight in front of him.

A bashful smile painted your face along with a deep blush. “I was way too nervous to tell you first.” Your answer pulled a laugh from the two of you. After a few seconds both of your laughter had died down leaving silence to fill its space instead. “So I should have grown a pair and done it first a long time ago is what you're saying.” The slight shrug of your shoulders didn’t match the coy smile you were sporting. “You said it not me.” Once again you shrugged not before laughing again. This time it was against the pec of his chest. “So I should always make the first move, is what I’m hearing?” Quickly you glanced up to find his eyes already upon you. Shifting you move to hide more of your face in his chest but he doesn’t let you get far. “I mean if that's how you feel that it then sure.” Bodhi knew when you got shy you tried to hide from prying eyes but fortunately for him he wasn’t subject to the same rules as everybody else. Softly his hand finds its rightful place against your cheek and neck. The gentle guide of his hands pulls your face up to his. You watch as his eyes drop to your lips before coming back up. “Well if that's the case then you won’t have any problem with this.” Bodhi lifted himself while bringing your face closer to his. With one last look at your eyes wide in surprise he closes his own eyes when he felt the softness of your lips against his own. Slowly your lips found a rhythm against Bodhis and he swore there was no better feeling in the world than this.

Finally when both of you ran out of air did you pull away from each other. Bodhi was watching you when your eyelids finally peeled apart from each other. “I think you should do that again just so I can make sure there is no problem.” The laugh that tumbled out of Bodhi was loud and full of joy. He could feel the smirk on his face but he made no move to stop it. Not when you were looking at him like that. Right before your lips met his .That laugh that he loved graced the room once again. He would hate to cut off the laugh that he loves so much but the feel of your lips against his takes priority.

#fourth wing x reader #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine

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hjvi · 3 days ago

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𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅

Pairing: Bsf!Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: After burying your feelings for Chris for years, you're caught off guard when jealousy resurfaces, watching him with another girl. requested

Word Count: 2k

You’ve known Chris for as long as you can remember. His laugh is unmistakable—the kind that echoes, rich and deep, bouncing off walls and filling every corner of the room with warmth. He’s always been loud, full of life, and incredibly magnetic, effortlessly drawing people in with his charm. But for you, it was always more than that.

You knew him long before you started feeling this way—long before his tousled brown hair, with the hints of sun-kissed highlights, started looking a little too perfect in the way it fell over his forehead. Before his blue eyes started making your stomach twist in a way you could no longer ignore. Before you started noticing the little things, like the warmth of his hand when it brushed against yours, the way he’d throw his arm around your shoulders during movie nights with the group, the way he’d pause mid-sentence, just to smile at you like he couldn’t help himself.

For so long, you’d been his best friend—the quiet one, the one who had always been there for him, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories, offering support. But recently, it started to feel different. You started noticing things—small things—that never bothered you before. His smile. How it lingered just a little longer when he looked at you, how his eyes would soften when you spoke about something that mattered to you. The way he would rest his hand on your shoulder casually when you were hanging out, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

But you couldn’t admit it—not even to yourself. Because how could you? He was Chris, your best friend. Your partner in crime, the one you could tell everything to, the one who made you laugh when you felt like crying. If you told him how you felt, you were terrified it would ruin everything. You couldn’t lose him, not like that. Not over something as silly as a crush.

Ever since Chris and I were kids, he had the biggest crush on me. His brothers would tease him relentlessly, making exaggerated kissing noises every time he so much as looked at me for too long. Everyone knew. It was an unspoken truth, something that just existed between us, a constant presence I never had to question.

It lasted for years. And I never thought much of it—Chris always asking me dumb questions just to talk to me, always finding excuses to sit beside me, always looking at me like I hung the stars in the sky. It was just Chris being Chris.

Until he stopped.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but one day I realized he didn’t ask me those corny things anymore. He didn’t try to sit closer. He didn’t stare at me like I was his entire world. And I should’ve been relieved, should’ve been grateful that the teasing from his brothers had finally died down.

But I wasn’t.

I missed his attention. I missed knowing I was the center of his focus..

I remember the first time we formally talked about our crushes. It was in middle school, sprawled out on his bedroom floor, tossing a stress ball back and forth.

"I kinda like Sophia," he had admitted, his voice casual, like he wasn’t saying something that made my stomach twist.

Sophia. The blonde that every guy liked. The one with the kind of effortless beauty that made people gravitate toward her. Of course, he liked her.

I had forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah? She’s cool."

Chris studied me for a second before tossing the ball again. "Who do you like?"

I froze. My heart stuttered, my mind scrambling for a name that wasn’t his.

Because for the first time, I realized—I liked Chris.

And it terrified me.

"I don’t know," I lied, shrugging. "Haven’t really thought about it."

He smirked. "Liar."

I laughed it off, quickly changing the subject, but the truth sat heavy in my chest.

The weight of unspoken words had never felt heavier than it did now. For as long as I could remember, Chris had been my person. My best friend. The one I could always count on to make me laugh when the world felt unbearable. The one whose presence alone made everything feel lighter. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. My laughter lingered a little too long when he cracked a joke. My heart raced a little too fast when his hand brushed against mine. My eyes searched for him in every crowded room, drawn to him in a way I knew wasn’t just friendly.

I had fallen in love with him.

And I never told him.

I buried those feelings so deep inside me, convinced that if I ignored them long enough, they would disappear. Because why would someone like Chris ever look at me that way? He deserved someone beautiful, effortless—someone who didn’t trip over their own words when he smiled at them. And if I ever told him, it would ruin everything. So I stayed quiet. I convinced myself that being his best friend was enough.

But then, Leah came into the picture.

At first, it was just a passing thought. You knew about her, of course. She was friends with the group, always hanging out with them, just like you. But over the past couple of weeks, things had changed. You’d noticed the way Chris started talking about her more—how he’d smile a little brighter when her name came up, how he’d mention things they’d done together, and how his eyes would light up when he talked about her, in a way that he’d never looked at you.

It was a gradual shift, but one you couldn’t ignore.

It started small at first. The way he talked about her. A girl whose name I had never needed to remember before, but suddenly, it was everywhere. Her laugh, her texts lighting up his phone, the way his eyes sparkled when he mentioned her. And then I saw it—the way he looked at her, and it shattered me.

I had spent so long pretending that I was okay just being his friend, but now, I couldn’t pretend anymore. Every time he smiled at her, it felt like a knife to the heart. Every time I saw her name flash on his screen, I wanted to disappear. Because it wasn’t me. It would never be me. And the thought of that—of watching him fall in love with someone who wasn’t me—was unbearable.

So I started pulling away.

At first, Chris didn’t notice. He’d text me, and I’d reply hours later, blaming school or sleep. When he called, I let it ring until it stopped, my fingers hovering over the answer button, aching to hear his voice but knowing it would only hurt. I started making excuses, avoiding plans, choosing solitude over his company.

But Chris wasn’t stupid.

It was a Thursday when everything came to a head. The weather was unusually warm for an early spring evening, the sunlight streaming through the window in Chris’s room as you sat next to him, legs stretched out on the floor. Chris had his headphones on, scrolling through his phone while you were lost in thought. The space between you both felt wider than ever, like something had shifted and you couldn’t put it back.

He was talking, his voice full of energy, but you weren’t really listening. You were too focused on the way his laugh sounded when he mentioned Leah’s name—how much joy seemed to be wrapped in that one syllable.

“Yeah, Leah and I were talking about going to that concert next month,” Chris said, not even noticing the way your heart dropped at the mention of her.

You forced a smile, trying to keep the sadness from showing. “That sounds fun,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over. It was becoming harder and harder to control them.

Chris pulled his headphones off and turned to you, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening. He reached out to touch your arm, and his touch made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your throat tight. You didn’t know how to explain it to him—not without feeling like a fool. How could you tell him that you were in love with him, that every moment with him was a reminder of what you could never have?

This was just the beginning of the interrogations

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” he asked one evening, barging into my room without warning, his blue eyes sharp with concern.

I sat frozen on my bed, my laptop open in front of me, though I hadn’t typed a single word in the past hour. My heart slammed against my ribs. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, dude. You’ve been weird. Distant. You barely talk to me anymore.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Did I do something?”

Yes, I wanted to scream. You fell for someone else. And you didn’t even notice it was breaking me.

But instead, I shook my head. “I’m just busy, Chris.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back immediately, crossing his arms. “You’re avoiding me.”

I swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m not.”

He sighed, stepping closer, his voice softer this time. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I clenched my fists, willing myself to keep it together, but it was useless. The pain, the jealousy, the heartbreak—it was all bubbling to the surface too fast for me to stop it.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please just drop it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t. Because you’re hurting, and I don’t know why.” He hesitated, searching my face. “Is it something I did?”

The lump in my throat grew, and before I could stop myself, a single tear slipped down my cheek. “You didn’t do anything.”

Chris’s face fell, his expression crumbling as he reached for me instinctively. “Then why are you crying?”

He leaned in closer, his warm blue eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He froze, and you felt his hand gently tug at your chin, pulling your face back toward him. His eyes were wide with concern, his usual teasing expression replaced by one of deep, genuine worry.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and the vulnerability you’d been hiding for so long threatened to break free. You looked at him, his face so close to yours, his genuine concern written all over his features, and it hit you like a wave.

And just like that, the dam broke.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my entire body trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t kill me to see you with her. I can’t keep acting like I don’t care when you talk about her, when you smile at her, when you—” I broke off, covering my face with my hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

Chris stood frozen, his breath catching. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping at my tears. “I’m saying I love you, Chris. I have for a long time. And I never told you because I was terrified of ruining this—ruining us. But now, it doesn’t even matter, does it?” My voice cracked on the last words, my heart breaking all over again. “Because you’ve already found someone else.”

Chris’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing deeply. “Wait—what?” His voice cracked slightly, the shock evident on his face. He pulled you closer, his hands gently cradling your face. “You... you’re in love with me?”

The words felt like a breath of fresh air—like a confession you had kept locked away in the deepest part of your heart. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Would he push you away? Would he laugh? Or would he... understand?

Silence.

My chest heaved, the room spinning around me. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe for him to let me down gently, to tell me he was flattered but his heart was elsewhere. Maybe even for him to walk away. But I didn’t expect what happened next.

Chris stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed away my tears, his touch so unbearably gentle it made my breath hitch.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes, trying to suppress the tears. “I never wanted to say it. I didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

Chris was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he stood up slowly. He walked over to you and gently took your phone from your hand, placing it on the coffee table. His touch was light, his hand brushing against your fingers in a way that sent warmth rushing through you.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you so you were eye-level. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings. It’s okay to feel what you feel.”

But you couldn’t stop the tears. They came in waves now, the floodgates opening. “I just thought… I thought I was fine,” you whispered through the sobs. “I thought I could handle it. But seeing you with her, seeing you get so close to her, it just—it hurts so much. I… I don’t know how to be around you anymore.”

Chris’s expression shifted from concern to something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place. He gently cupped your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His eyes were intense, a mix of confusion and something else—something you couldn’t decipher.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” he murmured, his voice rough. He gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his warmth enveloping you. “I’ve been trying to figure this out, too, you know.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain how I had felt so invisible, so forgotten. But his next words stopped me.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, I’m pretty sure it’s written all over my face,” he said, his voice raw, unguarded. “But I never said anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to mess everything up. But the truth is... I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I can’t stand the idea of losing you. I need you, and I always have.” Chris’s hands gently ran up and down your back, the touch comforting yet charged with emotion.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my chest as his words sank in. I blinked rapidly, trying to process them, to keep my composure, but it was like everything inside me finally cracked open. All the years of pretending, of burying my feelings beneath layers of friendship and doubt, had been in vain. Chris—Chris felt the same way.

“You... love me?” I whispered, still not quite believing it, my voice trembling as I searched his face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. His gaze was steady, unwavering.

“I love you,” he said, more firmly this time. “Always have. Always will.”

The realization hit you then, like a weight lifting from your chest. He had been feeling the same way all along, hiding his feelings just as much as you had.

Without thinking, you pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes, and that was when everything seemed to come together. The pain, the confusion, the years of silence... it all fell away. The only thing that mattered now was the connection between you two.

“Chris... I’m scared,” you whispered, your hands shaking slightly as you cupped his face.

He smiled softly, that familiar, reassuring grin that made your heart race. “I know,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

My chest swelled with something I couldn’t quite name—relief, hope, joy—until it all broke free in a rush of emotion. Without thinking, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. My hands found his chest, pressing against the solid warmth of him, and before I could stop myself, I was kissing him—softly, tentatively at first, as though testing the waters after a lifetime of waiting.

The moment our lips met, everything else faded into the background. At first, it was slow—tentative. His lips were soft against mine, his breath warm and steady. I could feel the tension in his body, like he was testing the waters, unsure if this was real. And then, just like that, it deepened. Chris’s hand slid to my waist, pulling me in closer, until there was no space left between us. His touch was gentle but firm, like he needed me, like he was afraid to let go. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart flutter, each kiss a promise, each one a reassurance that this moment was more than just a fleeting desire.

I melted into him, my fingers finding their way to his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. His heart was racing beneath my touch, mirroring mine. The kiss grew more urgent, but there was still a sweetness to it, a softness that made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion, like we had all the time in the world. His lips were warm and sure, coaxing mine to respond, to give in, and I did, losing myself in the sensation of him, in the feeling of finally being close to the one person I had secretly longed for.

But eventually, I had to pull away, gasping for air. The intensity of the kiss left me breathless, my body trembling from the closeness of it. I couldn’t think, couldn’t process anything beyond the overwhelming feeling of his lips on mine, of the warmth of his touch.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my chest heaving as I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, as if he were trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer. But when he opened them, he locked his gaze with mine, and in that moment, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t expected—something so tender, so vulnerable.

He reached for me almost immediately, his hands gentle as he cupped my face, pulling me back toward him. His lips found mine again, but this time, it was softer—gentler. He kissed me with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if he needed me as much as I needed him, and as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as I had. His touch was no longer desperate, but filled with a quiet longing, a reassurance that we were in this together, that we had both found something we couldn’t bear to let go of.

His breath mingled with mine, warm and slow, as his forehead rested gently against mine. His hands moved to my back, holding me close, as if he never wanted to let me go. I could feel the warmth of his chest against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my fingertips, and it was like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Chris whispered, his voice soft, almost a little shaky. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

I nodded, my heart swelling with emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. The love in his voice, the way he held me like I was fragile, like I was something precious—it was everything I’d ever wanted. He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was memorizing the feel of me, like he never wanted to forget this moment.

“Don’t pull away,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes searched mine, the intensity in them soft but unwavering. “I need you here. With me. Always.”

I looked into his eyes, feeling the sincerity in his words, the depth of his feelings for me. His hands were still on my waist, holding me close but with a softness that made me feel safe, cherished.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered back, my voice a little shaky as I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across the stubble that had started to form there. “I’m right here.”

And with that, he kissed me again, slowly this time—more like a promise than a question. His lips were gentle against mine, like he was savoring the moment, making sure we were both fully present in it. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet certainty that we were exactly where we were meant to be. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the feeling of finally being with the person I had loved for so long.

When we finally pulled away again, I could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips, and I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together. His hands gently cradled my face, and I could feel the tenderness in every touch, every look. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was showing me that he needed me, that he loved me, in a way that words couldn’t fully express.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry if this feels a bit rushed – it's because, well, it kind of is. This was a requested piece, and I apologize it's not a full-length fic, but I really hope you still enjoy it! Things have been pretty busy on my end, but I'm hoping to dive into future requests with more plot and depth. Thanks again for your patience and support!

tags - @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo

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harrycinnamonbun · 3 days ago

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sugardaddy!lewis au - cinnabun thoughts 18+

sugardaddy!lewis who picks you up from university in his sleek ferrari, your favorite coffee and pastry in the front as you get in. you try to ask him where he was taking you through bites of the croissant, but he just smiles coyly and rubs your thigh affectionately. you huff in faux annoyance but never object, he takes care of you well, too well, and you were always eagerly along for the ride. you bit your lip as you toyed with the gold ‘LH’ necklace that adorned your neck, looking out the window as he raced through the streets to try and guess what surprise he had in store.

sugardaddy!lewis who delights in the shock in your face as you arrive at the private airport tarmac. he helps you out of the car with a kiss on your cheek, reassuring you that the trip wouldn’t take long. you were glad that he quelled your anxious mind, knowing you had an exam tomorrow afternoon. his hand rests possessively on your back, guiding you up the steps to board the luxurious jet.

sugardaddy!lewis who finally tells you the destination once the plane takes off: new york city. you squeal with excitement, jumping on his lap and kissing him all over his face. he knew you would be pleased since you always talked about wanting to spend a whole day shopping at saks 5th avenue and bloomingdale’s. finally your busy university schedule allowed the two of you to take the trip. he loved taking you places, spending time with you made his life more exciting. a pretty little thing like you who adored him was nothing short of heaven.

sugardaddy!lewis loves to see you happy and to achieve that, money was no object. he trailed along supportively as you made your way through the department store, stopping at each designer label that drew your eye. you bought a dress from chanel, shoes from christian louboutin, and jewelry from tiffany and cartier. your weakness though, were bags. a bag from ysl, a bag from hermes, a bag from loewe… lots of bags, but lewis was more than pleased to buy them for you. after each swipe of his card you gave him a kiss and whispered a sweet ‘thank you’, the promise of something for him in return lingered in your voice.

sugardaddy!lewis who fucks you on the king size bed in the penthouse of the plaza hotel, shopping bags abandoned and scattered all over the floor. your moans echo off the walls of the suite, your nails running down his inked back as he thrusted deeper into you. ‘my good girl, always so spoiled’ he drawls into your ear, taking time to leave bites and kisses down your neck as he picks up his pace. he treasured you, his sweet baby, and you deserved only the best. so he bought you the most expensive things, took you to the nicest restaurants, and fucked you like a queen. your orgasm came over you fast, the third one that night. but you just smiled tiredly up at him, begging for more.

sugardaddy!lewis who orders room service for breakfast, sparing no expense on getting anything you may even remotely want. you woke up to a buffet at the dining table, your eyes glinting with delight. you were still sore from last night, groaning as made your way around the table to pile your plate high with the delicious food. you sat on lewis’ lap in your silk robe, stuffing your face with pancakes as he sipped a cup of coffee. he listened attentively as you chatted about your classes and trivial gossip, always enamoured by the way you expressed yourself. his fingers caressed your waist, subtly claiming you, even though you would always be his.

a/n - couldn't stop thinking about this tbh needed to get it out of my brainnnnnn.

hop in my requests and gimme some au recs, help me get the creative juices flowing :)

masterlist

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sonotpattismith · 3 days ago

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let him make a woman out of me

pairing: martial arts!sukuna x preacher's daughter!reader word count: 13.5k content: angst, religious themes, religious trauma, low-key sacrilegious at points, implied sexual harassment/abuse, mentions of miscarriage, smut, 18+ a/n: this was just supposed to be a self-defense trainer sukuna fic, but I was listening to Ethel Cain and my religious trauma jumped out idk what happened SORRY- also thank you to @yoyoheart for the inspo :')

You had never been sure who’s wrath you feared more: your father’s, God’s, or the world that both of the aforementioned possibilities sheltered you from. Perhaps they were all one in the same, as your father lived to enforce his own version of God’s will, and the world of the small community surrounding you bent to their every whim.

Of course, you had never been so naive as to believe there wasn’t a whole other world beyond the confines of your father’s commandments and God’s watchful eye, even though you had never seen it— a faith you had learned from the very Bible that shackled your mind— believing without seeing, the presence of the other world lingered all around without your needing to touch it to acknowledge the fact.

None of these things though could have prepared you for the trials and temptations ahead of you; not your father’s scorn, not God’s promises, and certainly not the world that had kept you barred for so long— because you never knew this was what all these things were hiding from you.

Nothing could have prepared you for Sukuna.

Here you were though, staring up at the martial arts gym in the middle of a city you had never known, with hopes that it would help bring you that much closer to feeling confident in the world you were always a fingertips brush away from. Second doubts were creeping into your muddled mind though, because the man emerging from the back of the gym at the sound of the front door jingling with your arrival was monstrous, unlike anything you’d ever seen before, but everything you imagined Lucifer’s deceptive beauty to be.

He was tall, ducking his head ever-so-slightly through the archway as he took a long swig from his water jug. Even the way his long finger’s wrapped around the plastic appeared perilous, the flimsy material bending under what looked like it was supposed to be a casual grip. Tugging the wire from one of his headphones down, he raised a brow at your timid stance while leaning his hands on the front counter.

“You my six o’clock self-defence beginner?” His question rang in your ears, making your heart pound violently against your chest.

This was supposed to be who would be training you? He looked like the very people you were hoping to learn how to defend yourself against, what with the menacing marks that littered his otherwise captivating face. He reminded you of what the scripture had said about how even Lucifer masqueraded as an angel of light.

“Oh, um…” Your gaze flickered, taking note of the way the sleeves of his compression shirt strained pitifully against the swell of his biceps. This man could kill you with a flick of his wrist should you make a wrong move. Twisting your fingers into the hem of your hoodie, you mustered the courage to respond to him as his brows rose in an exasperated go on expression. “You’re the… martial arts trainer?”

“There a problem with that?” The subtle edge in his tone had your breath hitching, every doubt that you were sure you had buried when you left your hometown flooding back to you.

“No! I just…” Your anxious voice trailed, and the silence in the modestly sized gym had a premature sweat breaking out onto your neck— you were alone with this man. “Is there maybe a um… female trainer?”

His face remained intimidatingly neutral for a few seconds before the slightest of amused smirks broke the sudden tension. Pushing off the counter, he trailed around to the front, a motion that had you inching back in a manner you could only hope was subtle. Instead of stopping in front of you though, he moved past you and toward the front door. You watched with furrowed brows as he pushed it ajar before shoving the door stopper between it and the frame.

“Look princess— this is my gym.” He explained with a resigned sigh.

For a moment, Sukuna had contemplated rolling his eyes at your request. It wasn’t that he was offended— no, he was far too accustomed to the intimidated stares and shuffles away from his vicinity. Still, irritation was a state of second nature to him, built up over years of needing to put up with the aggravatingly shallow individuals that had plagued his life since he was a teenager and first sprouted both in size and fear factor.

Taking a better look at you though, he had to remind himself of how he came off most times. Your comparably small frame was swallowed up by his shadow, and by the way your wide, dewy eyes darted about the gym, it told him that perhaps he needed to tone it down a notch. After all, you were a kind-looking girl all by herself in a gym with a six foot something bodybuilder who couldn’t understand it when people told him he had a perpetually murderous look in his eyes.

Standing up once the door was successfully propped open, he made his way back over to you as you tried to conceal your shell-shocked expression. Meanwhile, the assessing glint in his ruby eyes as he dragged his gaze up and down your tense figure did nothing to ease your nerves.

“So, no, I’m the only trainer here.” He finally continued before meeting your eyes once again. “What are you here for?”

“Um… what am I here for?”

“Why are you taking these lessons?”

You blinked apprehensively up at him as memories of your life leading you all the way here to this stranger’s gaze flooded your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you tried to straighten your posture in an attempt to appear more confident than you actually felt.

“I want to protect myself.”

He nodded firmly at your answer, leaning his elbow against the counter.

“And do you think anyone fucks with me?” He fought back an amused smirk watching you flinch back at his crass words. It made him wonder what the fuck you were doing here, as it was becoming abundantly clear that you were likely heavily sheltered. In his experience, girls like you always had some helicopter parents doing all the protecting for them, even at their grown ages. Your lips twitched nervously as your eyes continued to flutter up at him. “Hm?”

“No— no, I don’t think anyone… bothers you.”

“And why not?” At this point, you were almost sure he just enjoyed seeing you sweat as he continued to press with a mocking tilt of his head. Sensing your apprehension, he nodded encouragingly. “Go on, I’m a big boy— I can take it.”

“Well, you’re— y’know, tall and… big.” You weren’t sure what other term to use without flat out calling him scary, but he seemed to have understood you anyway— much to your relief.

“So, you’re telling me you’d rather have some pipsqueak trying to teach you how to kick someone’s ass?”

“Oh… well I guess that—”

“Oh—” The pink haired man mocked before pushing off the counter to head toward the center of the mat that was covering the majority of the gym. “Get your ass over here, we’re already running behind.”

Despite the nerves still taking hold of every inch of you, you quickly sprang into action at his command. Setting your bag down by the counter, you gave one last hesitant glance his way before tugging down the zipper of your jacket. Shrugging it off your shoulders, you were left in your long-sleeve top that, despite covering nearly every inch of you, made you feel unnecessarily exposed in his presence. You tugged at it in hopes it would stretch into a less form-fitting material as you walked to stand before him.

“Take that off.”

“W-What?” You stammered out, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. He jutted his chin toward you.

“Your necklace— if it gets caught on something while training it’ll fuck up your neck. Don’t wear jewelry when you come here.”

Your fingers slowly creeped up to curl around the cross that dangled from the dainty chain around your neck. It was the one your father had gifted you after your first Communion so many years ago, and it hadn’t left your body since. With a small nod, you reached up to unhook the chain. Your fingers trembled though, slipping and sliding the hook out of your grasp as your face began to heat in embarrassment.

“Sorry.” You attempted a nonchalant smile, but it appeared more like a grimace as you continued to struggle with the clasp.

Sukuna watched you silently, the way your eyes wouldn’t meet his, the guilt that swam behind them as you fought to maintain your composure long enough to do what he’d asked of you.

He had been teaching self-defence lessons for a few years now— not as long as he’d been involved in martial arts, but long enough to recognize certain cues and quirks in the people that passed through his gym. It had begun out of irritation, all the kids being brought into a martial arts class by their parents because they were getting bullied, all the women fearing the rising crime rates in this city— weak people bothered him, they pissed him off like nothing else.

When deciding to begin teaching individual lessons geared specifically toward self-defense, Sukuna tried to tell himself that it was because he wanted at least one less wimp walking out into the world each time he finished a class— that, and the extra income certainly didn’t hurt. It was beginning, though, to teach him harsh truths about himself and about the world he had convinced himself he hated for so long.

It was never weak people that bothered him. No, instead he was quickly coming to the startling realization that he saw himself in each frail recruit. Of course, it was never the version of himself that he had now grown into, but the young boy who had been alienated by the world under the false pretenses of love and righteousness. Sukuna had to be reminded each day that where weak people were— the self proclaimed righteous were never far behind, and nothing infuriated him more.

In the midst of your mortified fumbling, you hadn’t noticed that he’d stepped closer to you, reaching behind you to push your hands away and nimbly unhook it himself. You peered up at him through your lashes as though too scared to meet his gaze head on as his large hand came back around to hang in front of you, dangling the cross just beside your nose. He was glowering down at you, sharp eyes seeming to assess your every breath, and, for a moment, you were sure he could see straight through you.

“Thank you.” You mumbled sincerely, holding your palm up for him to carefully drop the necklace in the center of it.

The towering man stepped back to allow you to place the jewelry safely into your bag before rejoining him. In the minuscule interaction, you came to the comforting resignation that he had already had the chance to use that grueling size of his to his advantage, but the only use he put to his hands thus far was to help you.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous is all— I was being judgmental. Let’s start over.”

“No, remember that.” Sukuna insisted with a nonchalant shake of his head. He raised a splayed out hand in front of him before nodding toward it. “Punch me.”

“Punch you?” You repeated, eyes flickering apprehensively between him and his large palm. “Aren’t you supposed to… I don’t know— put gloves on or something?”

His expression deadpanned at you, and you could practically hear that unimpressed glint in his eyes asking you— are you serious right now? The borderline exasperated look on his face actually managed to break through your nerves for the first time since you’d walked into the small gym. A horribly concealed, breathy laugh escaped you as you realized the ridiculousness of your question. It made him look away from you for a moment, fighting back a tired smile of his own that showed just how long he’d been working today.

Quickly collecting yourself, you squared your shoulders to show him that you were ready. He nodded at you, barely adjusting his stance to prepare for whatever force your comparably small fists would deliver. His scarlet eyes observed your form as you hurled your balled up fist forward with what looked to be all the strength you could manage. You wouldn’t have the chance to see if it dealt any damage because you were quickly curling back, cradling your fist into your chest with a pained groan.

“That’s why you need to correct your form before you jump into anything else.” He explained simply, not at all phased by your pathetic attempt at a punch as he cracked his neck concerningly loud.

“If you knew that, why didn’t you teach me that first?” You gaped in exasperation, wringing out your now throbbing knuckles.

“Because now you’ll never forget to fix your form, huh?”

The first thing you learned about Sukuna is that, when there was an option to learn the hard way— he always took it. It didn’t matter that he was lightyears taller than you, or that the only thing you’d ever hit in your life was your pillow, or that you were a girl. In that hour that you were his student— he was going to make sure you learned.

Despite the dull ache that remained in your hand the remaining hour as he demonstrated the proper posture to take, even down to how you should be breathing, it was exhilarating to have been taken seriously for once. His corrections, though gruff and direct, were never the condescending tone you had grown so accustomed to among the men who you grew up alongside in the church.

They, like your father, had so many stories to tell you of the heathens that were often drawn to the city with allures of its greed and idolatry. These caricatures they’d conjure up would leave you shaken at night as you prayed to the Lord for any alternative— stuck between the fear of what may be awaiting you should you leave the safe confines of your hometown, and the isolating horror of what it may mean for you if you stayed.

It began to make you wonder though as you placed your water bottle back into your bag and shrugged your hoodie back on. You questioned the tales you had been fed your entire life— because none of them had ever mentioned that the people in the city, who had a knack for giving into the sins of the flesh and denying the name of the Lord, would also be the first to speak to you instead of at you. Perhaps it was just Sukuna though— you wouldn’t know.

“I have you down for the same time next week.” He instructed firmly while moving to shelf the weights he’d been having you use to practice your form. “Better be practicing too— I can tell if you’re bullshitting me.”

It had only been a little over an hour, but you had somehow felt as though you’d already grown accustomed to his intense way of speaking. Then again, there was also the possibility that it was sliding off your shoulders because he was treating you with the kind of basic human decency you hadn’t even known was possible for so long. Additionally, you took comfort in the fact that you knew what he was thinking— what with him being so terribly honest even about what pissed him off. You didn’t have to guess what atrocities might be hiding behind sickly sweet, feigned smiles and traitorously kind words.

So, you only smiled and nodded affirmatively at him as you bid him a goodnight. From behind you, he only grunted in response, casting one last look at you from over his shoulder as you left the gym, still practically bouncing with adrenaline. That exercise-induced dopamine hit only lasted so long though, because you were soon reminded of how far you’d parked your car as you stared out into the now pitch-black night surrounding you.

Your fingers fiddled with the straps of your bag as you lifted yourself onto your tiptoes to survey all the dimly-lit alleys between yourself and your vehicle. All your skepticism about the fear-tactics you had been fed your whole life flew out the window in favor of recalling all the stories about what happened to girls like you out in these big cities. Gulping down the anxious lump in your throat, you bounced on your heels apprehensively.

Slowly sliding back, you found yourself pulling open the door to the gym once again, where Sukuna was cleaning the space up for the night. He looked entirely absorbed in the task at hand, headphone tucked snuggly into his ears and face scrunched initimidatingly firm. It made you hesitate, but you weren’t able to concern yourself any longer about if you were being a terribly annoying inconvenience to him, because he caught your hovering form in his peripheral.

“You forget something?” He questioned with a calculated raise of his brow.

Chewing on your cheek, you remembered the fear that look struck in you the moment you’d seen it first— the subtle temper that seemed to be permanently lurking behind it and how his stature did nothing to comfort his observers.

“No, um…” You pursed your lips, your blunt fingernails rapping against the door as he watched you expectantly. At the ridiculousness of your own request, you found yourself flushing.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you think you could walk with me?” You finally squeaked out at the sound of his impatient order. He blinked incredulously at you a few times, so you clarified. “To my car? I-I just parked kind of far and…”

Your words trailed in embarrassment as he watched the way you glanced behind you uneasily, but he knew. How could he not? He’d been doing this for far too long, after all.

Though the man had his own, begrudgingly personal reasons for being in the line of work he was in, it always ended right when that hour was up. Knowing that he had already done all that he would have been able to in the time allotted, there was never any pull for him to try harder or dig deeper. Of course, it could also have been attributed to the fact that he’d never been one to care much for connection— not when what he had learned so early on about connection severed so many critical parts of him at such a young age.

Still, it was the very reason his typically automatic refusal faltered. The look in your eyes was humble, flickering between him and the darkness that lay behind you. Your gaze held a vulnerability not unlike the kind he so vehemently detested— the one that had once glimmered in his own eyes.

With a soft click of his tongue, he tugged his headphones out and shoved them into his pockets. Your lashes fluttered as his long legs began striding toward the door, and you stepped aside for him to push through it. Already a few yards ahead of you, Sukuna paused and swiveled his head around to see that you were still at the door.

“You coming, brat? Or do you need to be carried too?” Despite his taunting words, his tone didn’t hold the malice he intended it to, and you knew it too. With a soft, wobbly smile of appreciation, you quickly fell into step beside him, nodding in the direction of your car.

It was silent as you two walked beside one another, the only noises permeating the peace being the thuds of your feet against the concrete and the jingling of his keys deep in his pockets where he had shoved his hands. Sukuna’s crimson eyes regarded you discreetly from his peripheral, noting the way you walked as though the ground might give out on you at any second. It was becoming clearer to him by the second that you were new to being out in the world on your own— at least that’s what your shifting eyes and tense shoulders told him as the rowdy conversation of a group of men grew closer with each step of your trek.

Even through your attempted subtlety, he picked up with a sharp precision the way you inched ever-so-slightly closer to him at the sudden intrusion. Casting his eyes to the side, his fist clenched twice in contemplation before he pulled it from his pocket and rested a guiding hand on the nape of your neck as you two passed the group in what he hoped would be a message to chill the fuck out.

The motion stung at your nervous system for a moment before you felt his fingers tighten as the two of you brushed against the men on your route. The protectiveness that came like a second nature to him spread a subtle warmth through your chest, one you were sure to stomp out before you let it fester anymore. Now a safe distance from what sounded to be a drunken group, his grip on your neck eased up. Clicking his jaw, he felt a sense of relief for a fear that wasn’t his to shoulder as he wondered what would have happened had you not come back for him.

The worn down car beeped a few feet away from you as you clicked at the key, and Sukuna’s hand slowly fell from your neck.

“Thank you.” Your tone was overly sincere for an action as miniscule as walking you to your car, but it only added to the growing, twisting sensation in his gut that said something was off about the look in your eyes. Despite this, you smiled up at him, far more assured than the tense one you had given him when you still feared him.

“Yeah, whatever,” He muttered, shoving his hands back into his pockets as you tugged open your door and settled in. Finally taking the chance to glance over you again, the man leaned his hand against the dingy vehicle. “Don’t park so fucking far next time. There’s a lot behind the gym.”

In the growling irritation that laced his tone, you were still able to detect that he was trying to help you— even if he wanted it to seem like you were deeply inconveniencing him. Still, you didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, so you nodded ardently.

“Behind the gym, got it.”

His lips twitched up softly at your sincerely affirmative tone, but he made sure to turn his face away before you could see it.

“Not everyone’s out to get you.” Sukuna grumbled as you clicked your seatbelt on. Perhaps he was jumping the gun with his assumptions, but he had a sneaking suspicion about the way you view the world around you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip at his words. “And get a can of mace, will ya? Not always gonna be around to play knight for you.”

He didn’t give you the chance to respond, closing the door firmly with his monstrous hand. Waiting until he heard the soft click of your door locking, you watched as his broad frame stalked away from your car.

God won’t allow you to be tempted beyond what you could bear.

It was meant to provide you solace as you recalled the scripture, however it only fed your doubt the entire drive to your apartment, thoughts of how his warmth felt against your skin haunting your once steadfast beliefs.

It was more than his sinful beauty that plagued you though— it was the wisdom he seemed to keep about the very things that terrified you. Like a gatekeeper into the depths of your naivety, Sukuna seemed so sure of his every move and belief, and, in turn, he seemed to hold that same confidence in you. It was so foreign to you to receive that confidence without the need to prove yourself first— always guiltily fragile before proven innocently competent.

You busied yourself as best you could in the days that followed, trying to build your new apartment from the ground up and make it into some semblance of a home. It was with a haste that you came though, only a duffel bag on your shoulder and certainly no furniture to liven up the space. With the limited budget you were working with, you spent a day searching though thrift stores and garage sales for decent enough pieces that would suffice for your living space.

With each bill you pulled from the modest wad of cash you kept hidden within a sock at the corner of your bathroom cabinet, the looming reality of being truly on your own was settling in, and you wondered who the hell would hire you with only babysitting experience. It was just another reason to curse your upbringing, never having prepared you for the real world, because in their version of it, teaching you to bring up a child was all the preparation you needed.

You shook your head in an attempt to veer yourself away from where your thoughts would eventually take you. In your journey of self discovery, you were quickly learning that pitying yourself wouldn’t save you from the uphill battle of moving forward.

A determined huff escaped you as you finally located the parking lot Sukuna had told you about the week prior. Though you no longer feared him in the way you had upon first meeting, it was the energy he emanated that had you needing to hype yourself up to enter the gym for your second lesson that evening.

He was doing warm ups when the bell on the door chimed alerting your arrival, his long legs spread into a near completely horizontal line on each side of him as he leaned to the right to grasp onto his foot. His movements were almost supernaturally fluid, and it was jarring to see such precise agility coming from a man with such an imposing figure. The hem of his black, compression shirt had ridden up in the midst of his stretch, revealing the wickedly small sliver of his sculpted back.

There was the smallest of parts between your lips as you found yourself leaning forward with each centimeter the fabric continued to crawl up. The abrupt lifting of his head snapped you from your pathetic gawking though, his scarlet eyes finding yours instantaneously.

“What’s wrong with you?” He questioned brashly, taking note of the subtle flush in your cheeks. He twisted his torso to crack his back before standing easily from his place on the mat to gather a few gloves and weights for the lesson.

“Oh— nothing.” You shook from your thoughts long enough to smile at him, to which he only responded with a quirk of his brow and an unconvinced grunt.

“You practice like I told you to?”

You nodded at him, dropping your bag carefully onto the side of the counter before moving to unzip your jacket. This time around, you had half a mind to pick a less form-fitting t-shirt lest you be forced to anxiously readjust yourself between every move.

“I tried. I don’t really have any weights though, so…”

That subtle vulnerability, the unnecessary embarrassment in all your explanations was driving him insane. It made him want to shake you, to scream at you to fuck the world and stop being so damn scared of everything. It’s not what he was here for though, so he pushed the timid twitching at the corners of your lips to the back of his mind and nodded for you to stand before him and demonstrate the form he had spent so long perfecting with you the week prior.

You felt like shifting your weight under his scrutinizing gaze as it dragged from your firmly planted feet up your parted legs and to the controlled stiffness in your spine. Sukuna circled around you, akin to a predator stalking its prey— at least a helpless lamb in the jawls of a wolf was exactly how you felt at the moment.

He hummed, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other at the center of your back to straighten your posture. Nodding to himself at the correction, he almost allowed his hands to fall when he caught sight of the deep bruise forming on your forearm.

“The fuck happened to you?” The man questioned with a laser-like focus, lifting your injured arm to emphasize what he was inquiring about.

When your eyes fell upon his target, that infuriatingly familiar blush coated your cheeks once again. Pulling your arm from his grasp, you traced a gentle palm over the nasty mark.

“I was… trying to put together a coffee table.” You murmured bashfully, not lifting your gaze for fear of his reaction.

It was silent for a moment.

“A coffee table?” Sukuna repeated as though perhaps he’d just heard you wrong, a subtle exasperation in his tone. You only nodded. “And what, did it grow fucking arms and fight back?”

At this, you giggled hesitantly, but his seriousness only made your laughter bubble up uncontrollably. Had he not been so perturbed at your claim, perhaps he would have found himself fighting back a smile at the sound. Quickly adjusting to fix your posture once again, you shook your head in an attempt to fight off your tickled smile.

“No, no, I just—” You shrugged sheepishly as he stared impatiently down at you. “I’ve never had the chance to do stuff like that before, so I don’t really know how to use all the tools.”

“Right,” He responded doubtfully, still eyeing the blackening mark just above your wrist for a moment longer before he released it. “You at least get the shit standing?”

“Well… no, but my landlord offered to come over after he got off work to help me with it.”

This made Sukuna pause mid shoulder stretch, a volant sense of unease seeping into his chest. Slowly lowering his arms back down to his side, his cautionary gaze struck you sharply.

“Your landlord?” He began lowly, making you nod hesitantly. “Offered to come to your house to help you build a table— at night?”

You gulped at his warning tone, the growing expression of exasperation on his face gave you pause. The disbelief in those crimson eyes suddenly made you feel sickly insecure about the decision that you were so confident would fix your little dilemma. Picking at your nails, you cast your eyes to your feet where they still sat planted firmly in the mat below you.

“I mean, yeah. I don’t really know anyone—”

“So you were gonna let a stranger into your place by yourself?”

“You were the one that told me that not everyone was out to get me.” Your feeble attempt at a defense only made him scoff disbelievingly under his breath, hands on his hips as he looked to the side in frustration.

“Yeah, but—” He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, and it was clear that he was trying to reign in his temper. “I’ll teach you how to put the damn table together. Don’t let that asshole into your place, so help me god.”

You gaped at him as he moved around you to shift around the weights that he’d set out for today’s lesson with no real rhyme or reason. Sukuna only knew that if he didn’t do something to distract himself from the possibilities of what kind of scumbag you were about to let into your space, he would have barrelled out the door to find the asshole himself.

“But—”

“But what?” His abruptly challenging tone made you flush. It wasn’t out of fear though, it was the finality in his tone that was stirring that familiar warmth in the pits of your stomach that only seemed to make its star appearances when he was nearby.

It wasn’t his intention to come off so harshly— though it never was, that sharp tongue was simply ingrained into his bloodstream— but there was a fierce protectiveness that stirred in him that needed to guard that infuriating innocence of yours the way no one bothered to protect his. Taking note of your flushed cheeks, he released a calculatedly controlled sigh before softening his tone as best as he knew how to.

“Quit overthinking it. I’ll show you how to do it so you don’t gotta be asking assholes to help you for stupid shit.” He grumbled, finally coming back around to stand in front of you as he nodded for you to get back into form.

It took you a few moments, too busy staring up at him with a type of gratitude he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of. To be fair though, he was holding out something that you too had yet to grasp at, and it was the chance of independence Sukuna was forcing into your unsuspecting hands. Your eyes shone even through the downright ugly lighting of his gym, flaring your presence throughout the space in a way the very walls were unworthy of.

He could barely look at you as the two of you exchanged numbers after your lesson that evening, feeling for the first time in so long defenseless against what your perfectly intact soul would do to him should he continue meddling with it for too long. That fear didn’t stop him from knocking— perhaps a bit too firmly— on your door just a few days later, because if anyone was going to be blinded by whatever fucking sunshine you miraculously still kept in your pocket while living in a city like this— it sure as hell wasn’t going to be your creep of a landlord.

“You live in a fucking shoe box.” Sukuna commented gruffly as he ducked in through your front door.

This made you glance around the modest apartment, but your estimation couldn’t possibly be correct now that his imposing figure was taking up so much space. There was a subtle sense of your heart racing in your through at the sight of him, hair rustled and damp as though freshly showered, in his joggers and the t-shirt you had been praying would be loose enough to not showcase each rippling muscle in his abdomen. It seemed your prayers had fallen on deaf ears though— much like they seemed to have been your whole life.

Sukuna was big, and devilishly handsome, and generous— and he was a man in your apartment unchaperoned, and you couldn’t tell if the notion scared you or excited you. It made you wonder if whatever threat Sukuna was so sure your landlord would pose to you would have been safer than the temptation this man wafted toward you with each confident step into your space. You felt small beside him, even more so here than you ever did in that gym.

“I moved in a little bit of a hurry.” You explained with a bashful huff, finally finding the courage to shut the front door.

Quickly falling into step behind him, you followed as he stalked toward the heap of wood on the floor of your living room.

“Shitty roommate?” He guessed absentmindedly while squatting down to inspect the disheveled instruction manual on the floor, setting down the toolbox he’d brought with him.

“Uhhh, yeah, I guess you could say that.” You offered a forced smile as you allowed yourself to fall back onto the couch behind him.

The pink-haired man abruptly lifted his head at the sound of the second-hand furniture creaking softly under your weight. His brows were raised into his hairline as he shook his head expectantly at you.

“Uh-uh, you better get your ass over here, Princess. I told you I’d show you how to do it, and I’m fucking showing you.”

His sharp command had you springing into action, hopping off the couch to kneel down beside him. From so close, the scent of the musky body wash that still clung to every inch of him. Hiding your sheepishly tickled smile, you nodded affirmatively at him. He regarded your eager posture with a sidelong glance, the anticipation you held for learning how to put together a damn coffee table softening his brash expression ever so slightly.

“What— your old man never teach you how to use a damn screwdriver?” His grumbled question, though accusatory, held more curiosity than he was willing to admit that he held for you.

“He always said that was… man’s work.” The soft laugh you attempted didn’t conceal the regret laced in your tone, especially not from Sukuna’s keen senses.

Your explanation had a scowl forming abruptly on his already intimidating face. That grossly outdated sentiment sounded so familiar to him, and he found himself pressing to confirm despite the way his question may reveal a part of his past he tried to bury under all his muscle and tattoos.

“Jesus freaks?” He didn’t look at you as he made his assumption, instead focusing on laying out the tools you two would need.

“He was— is a preacher; my dad.”

It was all beginning to click into place— your near irrational fear of the world around you. The odd slip up in tenses wasn’t lost on him either, and it only added fuel to the fire of his building questions.

“Preacher’s daughter, huh?” Sukuna whistled lowly in amusement. You hung your head down so your hair would curtain your face. “Surprised they let you leave the nest without a ring on your finger.”

He had been half expecting you to reciprocate his banter with that bashful defensiveness that seemed to roll off your tongue so easily, but you had fallen silent as he picked up the base of the table. Pulling his lips into a thin line, his eyes seemed to unconsciously drag down toward your neck, noting that it was still bare of the cross he’d unhooked from it weeks prior. An inexplicable guilt panged deeper at his chest with each second that passed within your silence.

“Eh, I think it’s all bullshit, anyway.” He wanted to ease that tension he’d unknowingly placed upon your shoulder. A determined sigh escaped him as he shifted onto his knees. “Grab me one of the legs.”

At this, you glanced up at him in surprise, lips parting gently, too thrown off by his confession to be relieved that he’d shifted the topic from your leaving home. With a fluttering gaze, you did as he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“All that religious superiority crap— it’s all bullshit.” His reiteration only made you scoff out an uncertain laugh. A smirk tugged at his lips at your shock. “Quit blubbering and watch me. You’re doing the next one.”

“So what do you believe then?” You challenged, leaning against your hand that lay splayed out just beside his hip as you observed the way his hand curled around the grip of the power drill.

“If you’re asking me if I believe in some all knowing god or fairy or whatever the hell it is you people come up with to feel better about yourselves— then no. There ain’t no higher power, I don’t buy it.”

The dull buzzing of the tool filled the small space separating the two of you. About a minute passed before he finished securing the respective screw, and he pulled back to assure you were still paying attention. Your eyes narrowed along with your accusatory smile.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“You don’t think so?” He muttered with a small smirk, nudging at your arm for you to take the power tool from him.

Your breath hitched as his warm hand enveloped yours over the grip to press down against the two fingers you had placed over the trigger. The heat from his chest was radiating against your shoulder that had subsequently pressed right into him. Once he was sure you had grown used to the weight of the hefty tool in your grip, he slowly released your hand.

“I think you only want to believe that.” You weren’t sure where you had found the nerve to test him in such a way, but something in the way his haughty smirk faltered subtly as you turned back to observe his reaction made you believe that there was some truth to your words. “It just sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, is all.”

“Yeah? And what about you?” He prefaced his rebuttal by sweeping the hair from your neck, revealing the absence of your own symbol of belief. The sudden brush of his fingertips across your sensitive skin made your fingers stall against the trigger. “Never put that pretty necklace of yours back on.”

“So?” You tried desperately to sound more confident than you felt at the moment, but the breathlessness that lingered in your tone betrayed you.

“So, maybe you’re trying to convince yourself that you still believe it, too.”

It was his fierce defensiveness over the walls he’d built around that part of him that was talking right now, stomping so carelessly over what was clearly a sensitive topic for you. No matter how much you didn’t want to hear it though, you knew he had dug deep, and you couldn’t understand how he had seen right through you.

The guilt of your doubt was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Laying awake at night these days, you prayed and prayed for signs and answers, begging the Lord to tell you that what you had to do to protect yourself wouldn’t damn you. You were running though— running from the very temple you were meant to be tethered to. Would God grant you his mercy still? And if he was a merciless God, would it be so blasphemous of you to turn your cheek against him?

Your pained vulnerability reflected in your dewy eyes as they bore into his. Sukuna’s jaw ticked, taut with the type of vexation he only reserved for himself. It wasn’t his intention to wound you, only to disarm you against looking too deeply into him. If you pried too far, perhaps you would understand that he wasn’t just terribly astute. Rather, the doubt etched across your gentle features was much like a looking glass into his own past— he saw himself.

Sukuna blinked slowly at the war waging on in your mind against righteousness and safety, and he saw a young boy ostracized in the name of the Lord. He saw a boy frenzied in his turning the already frayed pages of his Bible in search of answers that would have been blurred by his tears should he have found them. In spite of all the ways his faith excommunicated him, even he couldn’t deny the way the promise of an all merciful God comforted him even as he was tearing himself away from such sentiments.

“Don’t listen to me.” The man finally grumbled, turning from you to survey the screw you’d just secured into the table. It was a bit crooked, splitting the wood surrounding it ever so slightly, but it was secure nonetheless. “It’s good to… believe in something bigger than you. Hold onto that.”

Because God only knew how lonely it felt to have been burned so savagely that he was rendered incapable of belief, but the sting of the Father’s loving punishments always hurt much more.

Sukuna left you that afternoon with a freshly built coffee table and more confusion than someone who seemed so sure of himself should have been able to provide. Sinking down on your couch, you eyes remained glued to the fruits of yours and his labor, your mind running over all the eye rolls of feigned annoyance he’d offer whenever you’d mess something up. None of them ever negated the subtle pride evident in the twitch of his lips every time you’d beam up at him with the hope that you’d finally gotten a technique down.

No matter how quickly he tried to backtrack, his words only fed the ever growing mountain of doubt that had sprung up before you had even packed your first bag to leave home. It sounded personal to him, as though he was speaking from painful first-hand experience. Just a few months ago, someone so confidently spouting heresy in such a way would’ve had you running the other way, back to the safety of conformity. Now though it only seemed to draw you deeper into his contrasting orbit.

Each lingering, crimson stare and brush of his calloused hand worked their way into perspiring dreams, accompanied by sensations of longing you weren’t sure you had ever allowed yourself to feel. Either that, or the neatly groomed, prim and proper boys of your church you had been surrounded by growing up could never come close to permeating the barrier the Lord had put up in your mind against sinful thoughts of temptation.

Sukuna though— Sukuna was temptation incarnate. He was everything you had been warned against, and he seemed to have been pulled straight from Ezekiel, boiling over with each accusation the Lord wrought against Lucifer. He was the seal of perfection, that sharp tongue of his full of wisdom, and his flesh perfect in beauty. The signs all pointed toward deception— yet, much like a naive and longing Eve, not even the fear of damnation could hinder you from how sweet that forbidden fruit might taste against your awaiting lips.

“Focus.” Sukuna growled as you were knocked onto your back for the third time that day.

Though it took every ounce of courage left in you to show up for your next lesson the following week, that gnawing urge to let your fingertips brush against the fire outweighed any survival instinct you held for your poor soul. It might as well have been for not though, because you couldn’t for the life of you concentrate hard enough to brace yourself for the test attacks he continued sending your way.

The trainer wasn’t fairing any better though. This had somehow become personal to him. Each strike he was able to land and stance he was able to dismantle struck an unanticipated irritation in his chest, because if he was able to disarm you so easily— surely someone else with less favorable intentions would be able to as well. He tried to be tougher on you, push you harder, but, in truth, it was difficult for him to focus on his own technique each time he pressed himself against you in demonstration.

It was borderline pathetic. Sukuna had been in this field for years now, and he prided himself on the level of professionalism he always maintained with his students. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he never allowed himself to toe the barrier of professionalism and connection, because they could pant and press against him all they wanted, but it never meant anything to him— not until you.

That type of determination in your eyes wasn’t uncommon for the women who came in for self-defense classes, but his fatal mistake was digging deeper. Now, despite the puzzle pieces still being strewn about and disorganized, he still held an ample amount of them to begin to be able to see the bigger picture.

“I’m trying.” You huffed out in frustration, brows drawn together in subtle embarrassment as you took his outstretched hand to help you up.

“Bullshit.” He spat out instantaneously as you stumbled up with the force of his pull.

Shooting a palm out toward his chest to steady yourself, you tried to keep your eyes trained on anything but him. It was no use though— he had been picking up on each little lingering eye and flushed cheek of yours since last week, and it was driving him insane.

“Shouldn’t you be teaching me how to like… I don’t know not get kidnapped?”

“Should I be?” He challenged immediately, and this time his bewitching eyes caught yours with no real intent of ever letting them go. The question was calculated— prying. Sukuna wanted to know why you were here, that much you could tell.

“Aren’t you the teacher?” You tried to reciprocate that same level of trial, but this type of banter was new to you— especially with a man.

“Aren’t you the one paying me?”

Sukuna’s lip curled up at the way your resolve slipped under his logic. Nonetheless, he hung his head for a moment as though collecting himself before stepping back a few paces. Once backed up sufficiently, he nodded at you.

“Okay— new lesson. Try to escape.”

“What am I escaping?” You laughed hesitantly, looking around the small gym like a child would scope out potential hide-and-seek locations.

At once, a wolfish grin lit up his face, casting his eyes ablaze with a dangerous glint that had you regretting asking for a change of pace in the first place. A nervous gulp forced its way down your throat.

“Me.”

No quicker than you could process his response was he lunging forward, his monstrous hand closing around your forearm in a crushing grip. You yelped in surprise as he tugged you forward.

“C‘mon, you would’ve been in the back of the van by now, Princess.” He taunted as he watched you struggle against him. “What would you do?”

With a grunt, you tried to pull away from his hand’s demanding weight, but it only made your wrist ache with the strained effort.

“Ground your feet again.” The man demanded, continuing to yank at your arm. “Forget your posture and your ass is getting taken.”

It took a disciplined focus to halt your attempts to fight against him long enough to plant your socked feet into the mat once again. With the proper distance and subtle bend of your legs, it had admittedly become easier to keep yourself from falling against his firm tugs.

“See where my thumb is?” His free hand reached up to pat at where his thumb curled around his middle finger on your forearm. “It’s the weakest part of my grip. Twist your arm out toward the weak spot instead of fighting against the strongest part.”

With a fluttering gaze of determination, your face scrunched up as you maneuvered your arm against the Achilles heel he’d revealed to you. A triumphant laugh escaped you as your arm twisted underneath his own and subsequently broke free. There was barely an opportunity given for you to give a hop of glee, because Sukuna wasted no time lunging forward once again. The motion made you squeak in surprise, jumping into action to race across the gym, where his thundering footsteps weren’t far behind.

“What happened to your victory dance, Princess?” The man taunted as you ducked behind the counter, knocking over your abandoned bag in the midst of your pursuit. He prowled on the other side, knees bent ever so slightly as if waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on you. With a mocking tilt of his head, he offered you an intoxicating smirk. “What— you think a kidnapper’s gonna let you go just cause you got out once?”

“Well, I was hoping he would—” You jolted to the right as he pounced to the left as though to swoop in on you. An anxiously tickled smile tugged at your lips. “—grant me a little mercy considering I got it on my first try?”

“He was granting you mercy by giving you a head start.”

A shriek left you as you watched him hop over the counter with ease. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins as you barely escaped his grasp, his fingertips catching against the fabric of your t-shirt. In the back of your mind, you knew you should have been taking this seriously, and your activated fight or flight response certainly was. The less disciplined part of you though— the one still riding on the high of her newfound freedom— couldn’t help but like the game of cat and mouse he had sprung upon you.

It was something in his predatory eyes and lascvisious smile, with his canines glittering under the dim lights above you— it was almost making you want to be caught. You wanted to know what he would do, how his victory would translate against the grips of his sinful hands.

That shuddering falter in your step as the blood rushed down your body made sure you’d find out soon though, because his arms were quickly taking advantage of your misstep, wrapping around you from behind to clutch at your wrists. You couldn’t stifle the gasp that ripped up your throat as he pressed himself against your back.

“What now, hm?” Sukuna challenged as you finally began to struggle against his grip.

You could barely concentrate enough to hypothesize what might be the right technique to use here, because heat was bursting from his chest and soaking through your clothes like rays of the sun, and it was rendering you useless, your breathing laboring with each nudge of his chin against the crown of your head.

“Drop your weight.” He finally offered, and it sounded as though he was expending no effort to keep you secured.

Against his chest, he could feel each ragged expand and deflate of your ribcage as it became clear it wasn’t only him being affected by the proximity. Though his mind was telling him to hold you tighter, keep you this close just a bit longer, he wasn’t sure how long he could maintain his composure without causing a serious problem.

With a shuddering nod, you allowed yourself to fall into his grasp, your t-shirt sliding up with the sudden movement.

“Faster— all at once. You’re supposed to catch them by surprise, make them lose grip.” His arms quickly hoisted you back up in tandem with his barking order. “Do it again.”

You nodded deliriously at his command, nearly drunk on the scent of his body wash lingering on his perspiring skin. Doing as he said, you quickly kicked your feet out from underneath you, your weight falling limply into his arms.

Sukuna grunted softly, and you had assumed it was from this catching your now dead weight. You were painfully unaware of how the swell of your ass had rolled against his groin on your way down, and he was fighting forces greater than demons to continue this lesson. Glancing up toward the ceiling in a desperate attempt to shift his focus, he sucked in a calculated breath.

“Good, now wriggle out with your hips, make it impossible to keep the grip on you.”

He regretted his instruction as soon as it left his mouth— because just as you began writhing out of his grasp, no mouth of counting back from one-hundred, or repeating multiplication tables he hadn’t thought of since middle school was able to stop all the blood remaining in his brain from rushing to his dick.

“C’mon,” The man grunted half out of desperation for this to be over with already to maintain any sense of professionalism he could still manage. “Use your feet— kick me— get out.”

In your hazed oblivion, you did as you were told, swinging back to land a barely impactful kick to his shin. When that did nothing, you reared back once more, this time making sure your foot collided with his knee. This maneuver finally did him in, though his arms remained locked around you as his leg gave out under him.

You tumbled to the ground along with him, the air temporarily abandoning your lungs at the impact of his firm chest against your rib cage. From under you, he groaned from what you thought was the force at which he hit the ground. Unbeknownst to you though, it was the fact that you were now frantically shuffling around to apologize to him, and you had sat directly onto his growing… dilemma.

“I’m so sorry.” You gasped out, your hands that had finally been released falling forward on either side of his head to support yourself. “Are you…”

Your breathless concern trailed off as you looked down at him to find he was already staring up at you, ruby eyes half-lidded with a certain hunger you weren’t sure you could place. Despite this, the intensity of them made an incriminating heat spread between your legs. Unlike you, Sukuna had experience in this walk of life, and he could pinpoint that look in your eyes that told him he wasn’t alone in his wandering thoughts. Still, he felt it was far from his place to make the first move— not when you’d clearly never been in such a position before.

So, he stayed perfectly still beneath you, save for the ragged rise and fall of his chest as your hair curtained around him and enveloped him in your scent. The tips of his fingers dug into the cushioned mat beneath him.

The tendrils of temptation swirling in his heated eyes made you realize that it was no wonder you had been so quick to believe the cautionary tales you were told about lust growing up. In all your years being raised alongside what were meant to be God’s children, his born again men, all of the lecherous gazes sent your way in the midst of sermons or while receiving the body and the blood— every last one of them held the threat of caged animals.

God said to abstain from the passions of the flesh because they’d wage war against your soul, but the scripture failed to mention the white flags your heart would so quickly wave when met by the eyes of the right beholder. Sukuna wasn’t sin, or lewd temptation— he wasn’t the morning star that would soon capture you in his fall from grace, despite how the uncharted emotions he stirred in you led you to believe. He couldn’t possibly be all those things— not when he was staring up at you as though your poorly timed awakening was a gift you were bestowing upon him.

The apprehension in your gaze was palpable, and, though he couldn’t be sure what his encouragement might mean, he allowed his head to tilt in the subtlest of nods at you. You hoped all the romance novels that you’d hide under the shoebox in your old bedroom hadn’t failed you as you leaned down with a timid quiver of your lips to offer your first kiss to him, one he could feel all the years of repression hidden behind.

A baritoned hum reverberated in the back of his throat as he allowed his eyes to shut, relishing in the feeling of your exploration. The sound served to validate your reserved actions, allowing you to melt against the way his doughy lips molded against you with all the confidence of an experienced man. Your chest gradually lowered against his, the hands that had since been idle by his head instinctively sliding up to grasp at his strapping shoulders that flexed dangerously under your touch.

It felt as though that incandescent ball of energy that had been building in your chest since the moment you first laid eyes on him was traveling up your throat, trailing a blazing heat in its wake while it spilled from your whimpering lips to find its home in him. Sukuna’s neck strained up to hungrily leverage a better angle to take whatever it was that you were willing to offer him.

The way your hands remained ever so timid in their exploration, one remaining balanced on his shoulder as the other trailed hesitantly up his neck— it was filling him with a warmth unbeknownst to him if from the anticipation of your next move, or the burning fondness that seemed to gnaw at his stone heart each time he was reminded of the innocence that had been forced on you. Whichever it was, it had his hands finally moving from their respectful place on the ground to lace your fingers together, guiding your trembling hand up to brush against his flexing jaw and heating cheeks until the message was set in stone that you could do with him whatever you pleased.

The sudden reassurance made way for your fingers’ insatiable journey up the remainder of his face and into his pink tufts of hair. Sukuna moaned unabashedly at the sensation of your once shy grip curling into his roots, the sound sending shockwaves through your already buzzing system as he bit at your bottom lip before his tongue raced out to chase the subtle sting away.

You arched against him, and it was then that you became painfully aware of the unfamiliar stiffness pressing against you. Though you knew that you had already crossed that strictly set moral line separating your human instinct from the parts of you that you could actually accept, it was still evident that this was completely different territory than a mere kiss. Even so, you couldn’t deny the way his concealed arousal excited you, pulling you like a magnet deeper into his allure.

The hand you had remaining on his chest curled into the fabric of his compression shirt as you pressed your hips down in a way you hoped was subtle. Of course, he could feel every breath and tremble of you though, and most definitely heard your gasp when your small shift caused him to press sinfully against your own heat.

It wasn’t what he had expected, not with how much courage it seemed to have taken for you to give into your temptation to simply kiss him, but he was pliant beneath you. Sukuna was offering up his own body to the altar of your self-discovery— and despite all the verses he swore to erase from his mind, he could suddenly recall through his wanton haze that the Bible referred to one’s own body being offered in sacrifice as the utmost form of spiritual worship. It was far from him to agree with the very pages that tormented his youth, but as you experimentally rolled your hips against him to chase that pooling desire spreading through you, he was sure that he was a man of the Lord once again.

Your lips parted from his, foreheads still pressed together while the barely audible, breathless moans slipped from you. He watched your expression fervently, taking note of that subtle frustration that creased between your brows in the pursuit of a relief that your clumsy ruts were insufficient to provide. Reaching up, his hands closed around your waist to adjust you over his straining length.

“Try now.” Sukuna instructed in that husky tone of his that only made your affliction that much more damning, slipping a strand of your hair carefully behind your ear to get a better look at you.

Ever the obedient student, you did as he said, though it hardly took any effort on your end as his urging hands aided in the steady rhythm of your thrusts. It wasn’t long before you were steadying your hands against his chest, too overwhelmed by the foreign pleasure to be embarrassed by your pitched moans.

Faster than you could grasp, everything that you had been told for so long was being pushed to the back of your mind to make room for him. He was rendering you utterly speechless with only his half-lidded stare and charitable hands. Sukuna thought if he didn’t keep his hands glued to your hips that they may be tempted to drift up your top, ablaze with an infuriating curiosity of what it was you always hid under those baggy shirts.

He didn’t though, and perhaps that’s why you felt emboldened enough to chase the pleasure you’d been told was corrupt all this time. You couldn’t possibly feel the immorality the congregation always spat upon the act, because his hands were so much different than the pleasure-driven ones that grabbed at you with no regard to your own wishes. Sukuna’s hands were driven by a desire to teach you as they had been doing so diligently for weeks now, eyes studying you much like they studied your posture before you’d take a swing at him.

Your release was building, swirling within the pits of your stomach and so incriminatingly evident in your shortening gasps, your scrunched face and nails that dug into the firm muscles of his clothed chest. The groan that escaped him sounded so melodic through the blood coursing in your ears. It left your fingertips brushing against the waves of your release, encouraged by the knowing glint in his eyes.

A muted gasp of his name began to fall from your parted lips, but he only nodded at you hazily.

“I know, Princess, c’mon.”

The safety of his encouragement had you tipping over that rapidly building precipice, squeezing your eyes shut until he tapped at your ass with a firm command to look at him. It was when you opened your eyes back up though, a peculiar type of fuzziness clouding the edges when a glimmering caught your attention from your peripheral. Your gaze drifted up to where the dull lights were catching on the charm sprawled out on the floor by your fallen bag. It was your cross necklace— the one that had been lying forgotten at the bottom of your bag for weeks now.

The sight of it clutched at your already racing heart, bringing you to a stammering halt as you jolted back with a mortified gasp. Sukuna quickly sat up at the sudden abandonment of your release.

“What—”

“I-I’m so sorry.” You whispered frantically, your fluttering gaze desperately attempting to hold back the tears lining your waterline.

You flinched back when his grip on your waist tightened with concern, and it was enough to make him release you all together. His hands fell slowly in bewilderment while you shuffled backwards until you were off of him.

“The fuck do you mean ‘sorry’?” His tone was harsh as always, but he just wanted to understand the sudden fear in your energy that hadn’t flared up in his presence since that first time you two met.

“I shouldn’t have…” You shook your head, a trembling hand coming up to cover the lips that you’d allowed to act so blasphemously. “It was wrong, I—”

“Did it look like you were doing anything fucking wrong to me?”

“But I should have known better— I do know better.” At this point, it appeared as though you weren’t talking to him anymore, but to yourself, to whatever part of you was telling you that what you two just shared was anything other than pure. Shaking your head, you stumbled up to your feet, and Sukuna quickly followed suit. “If they found out—”

You stopped yourself, almost as though you knew you were about to open a can of worms that he would not be so easily coaxed to close back up. He narrowed his sharp eyes at you.

“If who found out?”

“I should leave—”

“Like hell you should.” Sukuna hulking arm shot out over your head to shut the door you were frantically prying open. The tears you had been desperately withholding were stinging furiously at your fluttering eyes. “Who are you trying to protect yourself from?”

At his astute question, you only looked down, somehow feeling both exposed and safe entrapped by his imposing figure.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, Sukuna.”

“You don’t know.” He chuckled bitterly with a nod, staring at the wall by your head with a far off look in his eyes that told you he wasn’t letting this go anytime soon. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned then, huh?”

An urging hand was placed at the small of your back, and he was leading you quickly back to the mat.

“Please, just let—”

“Nah, we’ve still got half an hour left.” Sukuna firmly shut down your plea before nodding for you to get into proper form. “Go ahead and take me down.”

It didn’t matter how unwavering you attempted to make your glare, his firm stance didn’t falter as he awaited your first move with a calloused expression that contrasted so starkly against the passionate way he was gazing up at you just minutes prior. Sinking your teeth harshly into your bottom lip, your body trembled as you adjusted your posture and lunged into a side step to swipe at his feet.

It was just as he’d taught you— always using your opponent’s size against them to knock them off balance. You had done it perfectly too, but this time around he wasn’t so lenient in falling over in demonstration as he normally did. This time, he had a point to prove, and his firmly planted feet didn’t falter at your sweep as he took the opportunity to reach down and swallow you up by your midsection.

A grunt of frustration rolled from you as he hoisted you easily into the air. You kicked out your legs, trying with every last ounce of your waning energy to hit his groin, his shins, stomach— anywhere that might allow you to escape. It was all for naught though, and he was absorbing each of your comparably weak blows as he kneeled to the ground and pinned you beneath him.

“Escape.” The practically fuming man commanded again, pinning both your hands at the small of your back.

Your flaming cheek was pressed against the cushioned mat, beginning to gloss over with the sheen of sweat your exertion was producing. Each exasperated pant that escaped you was bringing you closer and closer to understanding just what it was that he was trying to prove, yet you still strained against his grip and jostled your shoulders desperately.

“What are you gonna do if whoever the fuck they are find you, huh?” He had lowered himself until his chest was pressed against your back, his lips brushing against your feverish ear.

The since built up tears finally boiled over as the last shred of hope and energy abandoned you, falling limp against the mat as the salty waves cascaded freely down your cheeks. His grip on your wrists slowly eased up, and that harsh scowl was being replaced with a more resigned frown.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” Sukuna rationed with you.

In truth, his resolve was breaking with each heaving sob that spilled from your lips. Finally releasing you all together, he watched in barely concealed unease as you made no attempt to move from your position on the floor. So, he instead worked to pull you up himself, shoving your trembling form against his chest as his eyes remained locked blankly at the counter behind you.

“I left— I-I ran away.” Your confession was barely comprehensible through your desolate sobs. “I didn’t tell anyone, I just left. I had to leave. I had to—”

“What do you mean you had to?”

Your nose burrowed deeper into his sternum before you shook your head.

“I tried; I tried, and I prayed, and I begged God to lead me back on his path, but I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.” You continued to babble as you clutched at his shirt. The more you spiraled down the memories you left behind, the more scared he was becoming of what you might tell him. “I thought he was trying to test me— test my faith, but how could I trust in a God that abandoned me like that? That let them…”

Your face scrunched with the trailing of your words. It made a ball of nauseating dread pool in Sukuna’s stomach, his face hardening once again.

“Let them what?”

“They told me that lust was blasphemous, that God’s children didn’t give into sins of the flesh, but they used the same hands to pray as they did to wander when offering me my blessings every Sunday. What was that supposed to tell me about my God?”

The man’s jaw clicked with the force of his clench as he absorbed your infuriated explanation. Your tears were rapidly becoming ones of rage, continuing to recall each time you stood in waiting, dreading your weekly eucharist as you knew how the associate preacher’s hands liked to stray too far as he performed the sign of the cross against your chest.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” You cried, pulling away from him to shove your face into your hands. “So why do I feel like I’ve damned myself? Like I’ve turned against God’s will?”

“God’s will wasn’t for you to be used by those lowlife fucking perverts hiding behind the Bible.” Sukuna finally snapped, trying with everything in him to level his voice lest he displace the rage swimming through his veins.

“But how am I any better, Sukuna?” Your sudden outburst took him aback. “I gave in too.”

He scoffed incredulously at you. It wasn’t you that he was so bothered by though, it was the depths in which those people had sunk their claws into your psyche that irked him so deeply. Grasping at your jaw so you’d look him in the eyes, the solemn expression on his face made you shiver.

“How are you any better? Because you wanted it this time, and so did I.” He emphasized, and your damp face flushed furiously at his words. “Don’t you dare fucking compare what they did to you to what happened back there.”

Clutching at the wrist of the hand that grasped you, you tugged at it to no avail, shaking your head once again against his hand.

“You don’t get it—”

“Oh, I don’t?” Another menacingly bitter laugh slipped past his lips. “You don’t think I grew up hearing the same bullshit? That I had to beg forgiveness for shit that wasn’t my responsibility to be sorry for?”

The grip you had around his wrist faltered as his words sunk in. You allowed your eyes to rake over his tattooed face, as though you couldn’t believe that someone who appeared so starkly different than you had once absorbed the very lessons that had placed you before him in the first place.

“I had a twin, you know— least I was supposed to. Preacher used to tell my mom that God took her baby away because she gave into temptation out of wedlock.”

The tremble in your bottom lip didn’t stop him from driving his point home, not even when your eyes began to pool once again with regret.

“You know I still remember that damn verse line for line? No matter how much I tried to forget it.” Sukuna’s desolate tone continued to tug at your heartstrings, but it was almost freeing to hear that perhaps you weren’t the only one forced by your circumstances to question the faith that had been thrust upon you. “‘But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away from his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.’”

His thumb reached up to swipe at the fresh tears that began to fall from your sorrowful eyes despite the fact that it was his grief that was filling the space between you. He had finished his drawn out battle against his own spirit long ago though.

“You think that’s what I am? Death conceived? That I was a punishment from God cause my mom wanted to fool around?”

“No— I don’t think that.” You finally cried out firmly, and it was the first decision you’d made in quite awhile that you felt confident in. “You’re none of those things. I won’t believe that.”

“How do you know that?” He tested, drawing you closer to him with a burning desire to kiss away each tear that dared disturb that kind face of yours.

“Because you’re good, and you’re kind, and you’re everything they ever told me to be afraid of,” You heard the sharp inhale he tried to conceal, because of all the sharp tongues that had spat troves of profanities at him, no one had ever called him good. “But they were wrong about you, and so was I.”

Humming deeply at your explanation, he tilted his head at you.

“So, what the fuck makes you think they were right about anything else?”

His challenge lingered in the heavy air between you, your breaths mingling as you stared down at the lips that had just spun your world on its axis. It had been a lifetime of being told that your body wasn’t to be trusted— that it would test and betray you time and time again. At the very least, despite the notion acting as a marionette puppetting each thought and breath you’d experienced thus far, there was some sort of safety in the familiarity of your cage.

Still, Sukuna seemed to be awaiting you outside the confinement of your apprehension with all the beauty you once thought akin to the devil himself, but you had come to realize that he was the closest thing to holy you’d ever held within your grasp before. You wrestled with the part of you that had been conditioned to believe your worth was in your virtue and your purity, and the part of you that thought his lips were proof that man truly was created in God’s image.

He could see the storm brewing behind your apprehensive eyes, biting back the sharp lecture that was instinctively conjuring up in the back of his mind that would shake at your shoulders to snap out of the chains they’d bound your mind with. Instead, a strained sigh fanned out across your face, and he was suddenly reaching behind you to grab your abandoned necklace.

“I’m not telling you to give all this shit up.” He murmured, twisting the cool, silver cross between his fingers.

Looking down at the pendant, you weren’t sure that you could recall a time that it ever appeared so blinding. After a moment of contemplation, he lifted it carefully before draping it across your neck once again. Your nose brushed against his chest as he leaned forward to secure the clasp in the back. Of all the years it spent weighing down on your chest, you couldn’t help but feel that Sukuna had taken a certain weight off of it that had since been suffocating you.

The tips of his hair tickled at your cheek as his head dipped down to press heated kisses to your jaw. Your lips parted, head falling to the side unconsciously to allow him more room. The gentle moans he was procuring from you made the corners of his lips twitch up as they trailed down your neck and left goosebumps in their wake. It wasn’t long before his descent led him to the pendant laying proudly against your chest, and he pressed a final kiss to it before lifting his head once again.

“But don’t let it make you believe shit you don’t want to, you hear me?” You only nodded, eyes transfixed on his lips as they drew closer to yours. His thumb pressed down against your chin to hold you in place for him to offer you a fervent kiss, sighing yearningly into you before pulling back. “If I’m not a sin then you sure as hell aren’t one either.”

You smiled softly at his words, chasing his lips while your hands twisted more confidently up his nape and into his hair.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it mattered to you anymore whether or not Sukuna was sin incarnate, or a test of your faith, or God’s punishment to an unholy woman, or whatever it was that your father would so ardently convince you of. Right now, his hands were traversing your waist with a tenderness no man had ever bestowed upon you, and his heathen tongue was knocking at your lips in search of permission to enter. You understood more with every inch of you he kissed why Lucifer had fallen from grace with the hope of being worshipped himself.

Your father, if he was even looking for the daughter that had fled from his feigned mercy, would simply have to forgive you of your sins.

a/n: where my ethel cain girlies at

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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layaispunk · 2 days ago

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Teacher's pet

pairing: Professor!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You fall asleep during Mr. Miller's class.

warnings: age gap (age not specified, but reader is in their 20s and joel is in his 40s), mentions of family conflict & insomnia, pet names, (darlin, sweetheart, honey)

wc: 1k

a/n: obviously ... inspired by the new pedrito content we got today

The low hum of Professor Miller’s voice filled the lecture hall, deep and steady, weaving through equations and theories about quantum superposition. He spoke with the kind of ease that only came from years of experience, his southern drawl giving life to concepts most people would struggle to grasp.

But you weren’t listening.

Your head rested against the cool surface of your desk, arms folded beneath it, as sleep tugged at your exhausted body. You hadn’t meant to drift off, but with the hall's dim lighting, the soft buzzing of electricity and Mr. Miller's voice ... it just happened. You hadn't properly slept in a while. Sleep didn’t come easy at home. It barely came at all.

And now, in the steady rhythm of Joel’s lecture, your body gave in.

You didn’t notice when his voice paused mid-sentence. Didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on you from across the room, brow furrowing. Most students in his class wouldn’t dare slack off - he had a reputation for being strict and demanding. But he knew this was different.

With a sigh, he set down the marker in his hand, rolling his shoulders before speaking again, this time a little softer.

"Alright, we're done for today. Don't forget about the test next week."

Students immediately began shuffling around, packing their thick quantum physics books in their backpacks. The shuffling of footsteps and quiet conversations faded together as everyone walked out the door.

Joel watched as students made their way out, but you haven't moved. While everyone else rushed to leave, you were sat there, with slacked posture, eyes shut on the table.

His jaw tightened. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. You were a good student, but you were struggling trying to keep up with everything lately, and he could tell you were burnt out. He leaned back against the blackboard full of scribbled physics drawings, as he quietly watched you. You were quiet- very smart, very hardworking, always paying attention. One of the few students who actually gave a damn about this class. Maybe that's why he'd taken a liking to you.

Not that he has favorites. But if he did ... well.

Joel took a deep breath and stepped closer, his boots tudding on the floorboards. He paused for a moment before crouching down beside you.

You stirred as he got closer, blinking up at him, eyes heavy, your cheeks crimson. He could see it now—the exhaustion in your slumped shoulders, the way you barely kept your head up.

He leaned in a little, his voice low, almost like a soft command. "Sweetheart, you with me?"

You blinked, your gaze unfocused at first. It took a few moments before your eyes finally cleared, slowly waking from the fog of sleep.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, not wanting to startle you. "You okay to drive home?"

You blinked again, looking up at him, and for a moment, you looked like you hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days.

"Yeah," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I know we live pretty close ... I could take you home"

You hesitated, not wanting to accept his offer but not trusting yourself to drive in the state you were in. "Are you sure?"

"Ofcourse."

You nodded. "Okay. Thankyou, Mr. Miller."

Joel stood up, his eyes still locked on you. ‘Alright then. Let’s go.’

You took a deep breath, starting to gather your things, trying to shake off the fog that still clouded your mind. You moved slowly, packing up your notes and slipping them into your bag. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with somber eyes. He didn’t rush you - he knew better than that.

Finally, you stood up, your bag slung over your shoulder, as he gave you small nod, leading the way out of the classroom.

As you both stepped into the hallway, the silence between you felt heavy. Finally, Joel spoke, his voice low, barely above a whisper, "things bad at home again?"

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question sink into you, but you shook your head slightly, eyes focused on the floor. "I don’t wanna talk about it."

Joel nodded, his respect for your boundaries clear in the way he didn’t push. His silence was enough.

When you reached his truck, Joel held the door open for you, waiting for you to slide in before he closed it softly. When he sat on the driver's seat and turned on the car, he cleared his throat. "If you want, you can ride to school with me tomorrow. Your car’s gonna be here, right?"

You nodded, still feeling disoriented. "Okay." You paused for a moment before asking, "Um, is there any chance I could stay in your class during lunch time?"

"To go over the material for next week's test?" he replied with a sarcastic tone. He knew you didn't need any tutoring for his class. You were his top student.

You raised your eyebrow, smirking. There was an unspoken communication between you two. You were completely transparent to him, and he knew why you wanted to sit with him during lunch time. He always knew. You had talked to him before, opened up about many things, mostly about the situation at home.

He offered that you could stay in his class as long as you like, and that he'd talk to the school counselor to excuse your attendance from other classes. You didn't like doing it often, because you hate feeling like a burden - though he had never made you feel like one.

Presently, he gave you a thoughtful look before answering. "'Course. You can hang around as much as you like, darlin'. We already talked about this."

You smiled, appreciating his offer more than he knew. You weren't sure how to thank him for everything.

After a few moments, you told him the exact street you lived at and before long, Joel was pulling into your driveway.

The streetlights casted a soft glow over the road, and when he stopped the truck, he turned to you, slowly, "I’ll wait for you here at 7:30 sharp tomorrow, alright?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "Thanks, Mr. Miller."

"Just Joel will do, honey. I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave you a small wink, watching you get out of the truck and walk toward your door.

He stayed still for a moment, eyes following you as you disappeared inside. Only then did he pull away, already planning on being there first thing tomorrow morning.

thank you so much for reading! reblogs are always appreciated ♡

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #professor x #joel fanfic #joel miller x you #professor!reader

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ivhmavie · 3 days ago

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she’s crazy but she’s mine

inho with an energetic s/o

first of all, just a little advice that inglesh its not my first language! be kind

a request!

༆ in the moment you and inho met, he knew you had to be his girl, despite your personality certainly different from his, and with the energy of a child, he was mesmerized by you

༆ when you guys went out, Inho liked to watch you dancing and having fun with your friends. He was amazed to see you so full of life, always with a different subject to entertain him

༆ sometimes, in-ho liked to sit and listen to you talk about some of the trouble you and your friends got into, or the random things you thought up doing when you were together

༆ it wasn't uncommon for you to come bouncing up to him, with your cell phone open in a new tiktok trend, explaining to him what he should do while positioning the camera to record

༆ for inho, it was almost comical to see you walking around the room, getting ready while telling him what you planned to do that day, while he is still lying down, just watching you. Laughing when you stop looking in the mirror and ask if he can hear you, only to hear him laugh softly and answer with a sweet “yes, darling”

༆ would encourage you to do some sport to burn off your energy, taking you and accompanying you during training, and then taking you to dinner at your favorite restaurant at the end of the night

༆ for that reason, you went to the gym together, as a couple. inho liked to keep moving and in shape, and he thought it was good that you could have an outlet for so much energy, as well as being healthy

༆ when you traveled, inho liked to let you choose the destination. For him it was fair, considering that you would be the one who would most like to go out and see the tourist attractions and explore the places

༆ inho is a morning person, custom from his years as a police officer, all his training and effort kept him fit and athletic all these years, so he wouldn't have so much trouble keeping up with your electric pace.

༆ at the end of the day, if you were still too excited to sleep, he would put on a movie for you to watch, making an effort not to fall asleep before the end and be able to hear all your comments about the actors you recognize from other works or the music theme of the singer you like

༆ you would tease him about his age, to which he would respond that you are "energetic like a child who ate more sweets than he should have", and then you would laugh at him for using an "old people" term

༆ he’s very patient with you, even when you think maybe you're going overboard and tiring him, he likes to see you excited no matter what

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #round6 x reader #squidgame x reader #player 001 #round 6 #squid game #player 001 x reader #young il x reader #young il #frontman x reader #front man

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stargazedwinchester · 1 day ago

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ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `steady hands, dean winchester

Summary: You help Dean overcome a panic attack. Word Count: 739

“Shit!” you scream as the vengeful spirit dashes you across the room, thrashing your head on the plasterboard, causing you to tumble onto the floor. You’re weak, your whole body shaking beneath you. The spirit approaches you, its face full of distress and misery. Heart racing, he reaches toward your chest and plunges his hand toward your ribs, making you cry out in pain.

Where the fuck are Sam and Dean?

Dean has a gut feeling that something terrible is about to happen. Adrenaline rushes through his head as they finally burn the ghost’s body, which had been terrorizing the new residents. Dean knew to get back to you.

As soon as the match greets the gasoline, Dean shoots off to the Impala, Sam hurrying behind him.

You lie there, half unconscious. You hear footsteps approaching you with muffled voices. “Y/N?” Dean kneels before you, his hands on your shoulders. He lifts you up so you’re sitting with your back against the wall. You hiss in pain. The damage that the ghost has done felt irreparable. Dean sits at your level, his eyes complete with panic and anxiety. “Y/N?” He begs, noticing you’re trying your damndest to respond, hell, trying to stay awake. He taps your cheek, gaining your attention. “Baby, please…” He calls, his voice cracking slightly. Sam paces behind him, his phone pressed to his ear. Your feet feel like static, a million little needles travelling up your legs, numbing your whole body. Everything goes dark. “Sammy, she’s not responding!” Dean frets, his cheeks burning bright red with fear of losing you. He scrambles through the inner pockets of his jacket, searching for his flask. He twists open the bottle and pours a small amount of holy water over your face. It’s cold enough for you to regain consciousness, and your eyes meet his perturbed ones. Dean takes a tremendous sigh of relief, sitting fully on the floor, his hands covering his eyes as he goes to lie flat on his back.

Sam insists on leaving the room to give you both some space. He was worried about your health, of course, so Bobby was talking him through on what to do to help you gain consciousness again. It takes you a little bit of time to come around, and you lock eyes with Dean, who’s now sitting up watching you with wide, cautious eyes. He seems stiff, like he’s paralysed with consternation. You’re winded, but it doesn’t stop you from crawling over to Dean, who looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Dean?” You call him softly, and he just glances at you before staring down at the floor. “You okay?” You run a hand through his hair. He gulps.

“I almost lost you,” his voice breaks. His whole body visibly shaking from terror. Dean’s breathing becomes more apparent. Uncontrollable. Dean has suffered irreplaceable losses. He wasn’t careful enough when it came to you.

“Dean, baby, listen to me.” You instruct. “I’m okay, I’m just winded. I’m not hurt. Okay?” Dean doesn’t respond, so you place yourself right next to him, rubbing his back. “I want you to try something with me,” you soothe him, and he hardly nods. “Take a deep, slow breath in through your nose, then out through your mouth, baby. Ready?” You attempt to show him how to calm himself down. His shaky breaths break your heart seeing him so vulnerable and upset. You repeat this process a few more times, rubbing his back for reassurance. “I’m here, Dean. You’re okay.” You lull, using your opposite hand to cup his face and place a kiss on his cheek. He looks over at you, and you’re smiling at him with comfort, hoping that he knows that when he struggles, he’s not alone. That you’ll always be by his side, no matter what.

“I love you.” Dean makes out, and you nod in agreement. “I love you too.” You place a long kiss on his temple. He huffs with relief before standing up, grabbing both of your hands and helping you up too. He opens his arms to engulf you in a hug, and you don’t hesitate to wrap yourself around him, inhaling his scent and feeling completely at ease when you touch. Dean plants a kiss atop your head, his hand scrunched in your hair. His grip indicates he’s not ready to let you go.

He never wants to let you go.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn x you #spn x reader #spn x y/n #supernatural x you #supernatural x y/n

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

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“To be loved is to be known”

Summary: When you call Aventurine by his true name, Kakavasha, with love and affection, it shatters the walls he’s built around himself. As he breaks down, overwhelmed by his past trauma and survivor’s guilt, you help him heal and discover the possibility of being truly loved. Through patience and support, Kakavasha learns to love and be loved in return, though the journey is filled with emotional struggles and slow-burning trust.

Tags: @bunni-v1(thank you for feeding the Aventurine fandom🙏💛💚), Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Healing, Survivor’s Guilt, Manipulation/Control, Love & Vulnerability, First Love/Relationship, Patience, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Warnings: Emotional Trauma, References to Past Abuse and Slavery, Mental Health Struggles (survivor's guilt, emotional breakdown), Explicit mentions of Grief and Loss, Heavy Themes of Self-worth and Identity.

A/N: this was much better in my head... 🧍‍♀️

[Inspired by]

The dim light of Aventurine's private quarters cast an amber glow over the room, reflecting off the myriad of trinkets and luxurious odds and ends that adorned the shelves. He lounged in his chair as always, legs crossed, head tilted, a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand. The smile that graced his lips was one you knew well—practiced, confident, and sharp. A mask.

“You’ve been unusually quiet tonight, darling,” he said, his voice lilting with feigned amusement. “Planning something, or is the weight of my brilliance just too much to handle?”

You folded your arms, standing in the center of the room. “Kakavasha.”

The sound of his real name stopped him mid-sip. The glass hovered inches from his lips, his eyes narrowing like a predator caught off guard. The room seemed to still, the silence so heavy it was deafening.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his tone sharper now, defensive.

“Kakavasha,” you repeated, softer this time, stepping closer to him. “Your name. Not Aventurine. Not the persona you wear for the world. I’m speaking to you—the person behind all of this.”

His smile wavered, a crack forming in the facade. For a moment, he looked at you as if you’d struck him, as though hearing that name from your lips was a wound he hadn’t prepared to guard against.

“Don’t,” he whispered, setting his glass down with a trembling hand. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it means something,” he hissed, standing abruptly. His movements were quick, defensive, his hands curling into fists. “That name—that name belongs to someone who should’ve died years ago.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t step back. Instead, you moved closer, your hands reaching out to gently touch his face. He recoiled slightly at first, but you persisted, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness that shattered whatever defenses he had left.

“Kakavasha,” you said again, and this time, it broke him.

A sob tore through him before he could stop it, raw and guttural. He sank to his knees, his arms wrapping around your waist as if holding on for dear life. His head pressed against your stomach, and his body shook with the force of his crying.

“I—I can’t,” he choked out, the words barely audible between sobs. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You knelt down, your hands cradling his face as you forced him to look at you. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his eyes were wide, glassy, and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, though your voice was laced with emotion. “You are Kakavasha. You are not the sum of your mistakes, and you are not the monster you think you are. You’re a person—a person who has been through hell and back, but you are not unworthy of love.”

He shook his head, more tears spilling over. “I don’t know how to—”

“You don’t have to know,” you interrupted, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You just have to let me love you. That’s all.”

His sobs quieted as your words sank in, his breathing ragged but slowing. You kissed his cheeks, his nose, his lips, each kiss gentle and patient, as though you were mending the broken pieces of him with your touch.

For a long while, he simply stayed there, his head resting against your chest as you held him. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think it was possible to feel like this.”

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You deserve this, Kakavasha. You deserve to be happy.”

The name lingered in the air, not as a weight but as a promise. Kakavasha—the man who had survived the desert, the betrayals, and the crushing loneliness—was still here. And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe that he could be loved.

The road to healing wasn’t easy. Aventurine—no, Kakavasha—was a man accustomed to wearing masks, to hiding behind his sharp wit and dazzling charisma. There were nights when his fears got the better of him, when he pulled away, scared of the vulnerability that came with being loved.

But you were patient.

You were there to steady him when he stumbled, to remind him that he didn’t have to face his demons alone. Slowly, he began to open up, sharing pieces of himself that he had long buried. His laughter became more genuine, his smiles less calculated.

And one day, as he watched you reading on the couch, bathed in the golden glow of the evening light, he realized that he no longer feared losing you. Instead, he felt a quiet determination—a promise to himself that he would protect this love with everything he had.

Because for the first time in his life, Kakavasha understood what it meant to be truly alive.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #angst #slow burn #hurt/comfort #emotional healing #survivor's guilt #manipulation/control #love and vulnerability #first love/responsibility #patience #angst with a happy ending

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moonjellysfeast · 2 days ago

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My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader Cont.

cw; Manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, murder plotted but not described, minor hornt at the end, you answer a call while fucking, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

Of course, you weren't only there to train Crybaby into an obedient weapon. Elias needed a gentle touch too and as soon as he stopped remembering what he did as the other persona he was ready to be trained in a new way. After all, you planned to bring Elias home and make him yours.

"Elias, please come here" He refused to move due to his earlier training, "You know you can trust me, right? We're friends, you can listen to me"

"But... only Crybaby listens... Right?"

"Oh, lovely, no. Crybaby obeys because he is a conduit, You ought to listen of your own choice. Because we are friends, Elias. Because I want you to" You smiled at the boy who looked like a kicked puppy even as you repeated your request and he scrambled to kneel in front of you and rest his head on your lap.

"Good, thank you, my sweet" You pet his head, letting the gentleness be his reward.

"I'm so glad we're so close now, when we first met I had to be so... careful with you" You laced your fingers through his hair as you spoke, soon wrapping the locks around your fingers to pull his head up at an uncomfortable angle to ensure he was looking up at your grin. "Now you're so malleable~"

He whined a bit at the strain in his neck but made no move to escape, in fact, leaning into your touch and staring up at you with adoration. You had to stifle a laugh at how pathetic he looked, the perfect little puppet for you to toy with. So eager to please that anything could bring him immense pleasure if it were from you. This included the torture he underwent to make him a perfect warrior.

When you could not be the one to administer his treatments he had to be restrained as Crybaby to ensure your Elias would stay sweet and to help him learn to be angry and more aggressive as Crybaby. If it was you, he only had to be restrained to keep himself from pushing the tools further into himself and ruining his body. It was bad enough that you were very soon only permitted to give him injections or other, less torture focused treatments. Though, you made sure to get recordings of his torture so you knew every single thing that was happening to him, as well as to entertain yourself in times where you missed his big wet eyes.

Eventually, you decided he needed a test run to ensure he could kill efficiently. You even had a victim in mind, one of the other scientists in the building who worked with him often and yet still seemed to believe they had moral superiority over you. They always looked at you with disgust and often commented on the fact you were a darling, seeming to believe the gene made you subhuman. To guide Crybaby in the correct direction you complained a few times to him about that person, even showing him pictures so he could recognize them. You knew if he were to simply focus on killing them he'd likely be taken out by the security, so to keep him safe you told him about your usual trip home so he could have a second goal and not let himself die.

You reasoned that if it didn't work you could likely find someone else to train into a perfect doll, though you had put so much work into Elias, you couldn't say you weren't worried. You finally determined he was ready and told him very directly that you wished for the death of your coworker before you went home for the day. You did not get to see exactly what happened, sitting at home and waiting for either a masked, blood soaked puppet or a message from your boss on the death or major injury of Crybaby.

After a few hours, you became very concerned, imagining his death at the hands of some stupid guard, so far from you. Finally a gentle knock came from the door before it opened and he stumbled in, dropping to his knees and bowing down towards you like he was praying. You couldn't help but grin as you lifted his head and peeled the mask off, the adorable, tear stricken face looking up at you with baited breath, awaiting his next order.

"Very good job, Crybaby~ You finally came home~ Now, Elias, let's get you cleaned up and in bed, You deserve a reward, don't you~"

He was now ready to be trained as your housepet, at your beck and call. This portion of training would be so much easier, he was already prepared to be obedient, he only needed to be guided. As it turned out, he also needed to be subdued as he was far too excited to receive your attention. You didn't even have the chance to pull out of him when your boss called to explain that he'd escaped. You did answer and she did hear him very loudly whining about your attention being away from him for even a moment. Suffice to say, you got to keep him in your home most of the time after that.

#top male reader #top reader #sub yandere #on the platter #on the platter(appetizer)#I'm not nearly as happy with this half #but que sera sera #If bunny doesn't like it I'll rewrite it better

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mayajadewrites · 23 hours ago

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── .✦ Renaissance - Levi Ackerman .✦ ──

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ levi x fem reader

summary: levi leaves you in the underground for the scouts, only for him to find you again in marley when the war is over. however, nothing about you is the same as it once was. you are not the same person you were 12 years ago. cw: canon universe, eventual smut, fluff, yearning ao3 also in this story Levi doesn't need a wheelchair so hope you don't mind.

CHAPTER ONE

12 years later

War is over.

Titans have been eradicated, but at the cost of 80% of humanity.

Narrowly, you avoided the rumbling that trampled hundreds of thousands of people.

About 7 years after Levi left, you escaped the underground to find a new home. A new life.

Wishful thinking - since everyone treats people from the Underground the same. Like absolute dog shit. You lived in many cities over the years. But somehow, some way, you found yourself in Marley a few months after the war ended.

Birthdays came and went - and your 29th birthday just passed. Everything about your life changed. What you look like, what makes you happy, you're almost unrecognizable.

Being malnourished has made your body stunt in growth, and with being a woman comes birthing hips and curves you didn't know you could get.

Every day since Levi left, you've thought of him. Making sure you remember what he looks like, what his voice sounds like. At first you would try to keep up with what the Scout Regiment was doing, but they're stealthy, and you could only catch whispers of soldiers who passed away.

You always listened for the one name that mattered to you: Levi Ackerman.

Over the years, people in every city would talk a lot about Levi. How great of a soldier he is, how strong he is, and how everyone is afraid of him. Everyone in the walls knew who he was, outside the walls too.

Soon, he got the title of 'Captain'.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

You still remember the moment you heard someone utter his name - it was like your heart stopped beating right in your chest.

Captain Levi? Does he look the same? Is he eating? Sleeping? Is he able to drink his favorite tea?

For the record, if Levi knew how you've been living all of these years he would be livid. Appalled.

Before you got to Marley, you began working at brothels. It was the only thing you could do as a woman in the underground. Selling your body to make money - never feeling an ounce of pleasure from any of it.

You had no other choice. There was no other way for you to survive. There was no Levi to save you, so this is how you saved yourself.

When Levi left you, you were pure. Untouched, beautiful.

Now, you're stained.

Levi hates stains.

A few months after the rumbling, Marley was being rebuilt. Houses were being constructed, shops opening. With one bag in your hand and a dress you haven't worn in years, you find yourself in Marley.

People were working together, for once. No one was defensive and full of tension, or screaming.

You watched as small children played with simple toys, the sound of their laughs bringing a smile to your face. One of the children kicked their ball towards you, letting it hit your feet.

You smile at them, they probably think you're young too with how short you are. You gently kick the ball in their direction, watching them all giggle as they continue playing.

When you look to your right, you see a tea shop. Looks rather new, but open. You purse your lips in thought, tilting your head curiously as you look at the building.

You are rather thirsty.

When you open your purse, you see some bills from a client you had the night before. "Thank goodness." You sigh, tilting your head back as you feel the warm spring heat on your face.

You're still not used to being in the sun so much. It's something that everyone, and you mean everyone takes for granted.

When you would make small talk with the other girls that work at the brothel, they acted like being able to feel the warmth of the sun was no big deal.

As you walk into the tea shop, you peer around, looking for someone, anyone. The walls are pretty bare, decorated with newspaper articles and a few florals placed around the space.

"Hello?" You finally speak, your eyebrows raised as you look from left to right.

Nothing.

"Maybe it's not open." You sigh, walking up to one of the newspaper articles on the wall. You have to squint to read the text, but a few words stand out.

CAPTAIN LEVI ACKERMAN. HUMANITY'S STRONGEST SOLDIER.

As you read the article, you can feel goosebumps forming all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.

Then you saw a picture of him.

He's in his Scout Regiment uniform, a forest green hooded cape over his head. Your eyes find his on the page and your breath hitches.

Fuck, he's so beautiful.

"Oi, we're not open -" You hear a deep voice from behind you, startling you as you turn around on your heel, your breath stolen from you.

In front of you is Levi Ackerman, but not the Levi that left you 12 years ago.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi #snk levi #aot levi #levi aot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman attack on titan #captain levi #levi snk

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slytherinshua · 17 hours ago

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◍　FALLING DREAMS　( 이석민 )

genre fluff , period comfort , established relationship , seokmin x fem!reader cw cramps/nausea/headaches/other period stuff mentioned but no blood , not proofread wc 804 request for @seokminfilm lyr my love this will cure ur cramps 100% (i hope) note slytherinshua svt fic era WE ARE SO BACK (i'm not actually in an era only for my pookie lyr) ++ listen to falling dreams while reading net @kstrucknet

You’d been cursed with painful cramps on your periods since you were a teenager. Coupled with nausea, headaches, and soreness, it was safe to say you loathed whenever that week of torture came around. Most people thought you were being dramatic about how much it hurt, even when sometimes it was too hard to even stand up because of the pain.

The worst was whenever you had to bring up the topic to men. Calling in sick for work became more trouble than it was worth due to your prying boss who was stricter than reason. And God forbid you mentioned your time of the month as a reason for your absence. You’d been laughed at, threatened, and humiliated multiple times to the point that you avoided it at all costs. It was easier to suffer through the pain all day at the office than try to fight your way for a reasonable excused sick day.

But you were lucky that there was at least one reasonable man in your life. Your boyfriend Seokmin took your time of the month more seriously than you sometimes. He was always more than willing to get you anything you needed, and was extra affectionate and loving. Although he didn’t know how it felt to go through the painful cramps, he could imagine just how painful it must be. Seeing you grimace your way through every long day saddened him. He tried his utmost best to make it even a little easier for you.

Which was why now, after a long day at work and several breakdowns throughout the day due to the hormonal rollercoaster your body was riding, you were now lying in bed listening to the soft sound of Seokmin’s singing from the kitchen. He was making your favourite brownies as was tradition.

It started years ago when you first started dating. You were a bit too shy to ask your boyfriend of only a week to help you with anything relating to the pain. Meanwhile, Seokmin was both confused and concerned on why you kept wincing every few minutes while trying to watch a movie. When he finally coaxed the answer out of you, he was unexpectedly sweet about it all.

You laugh at the memory now. Of course Seokmin was the sweetest ever when he heard about the pain you were experiencing. It was perfectly in character for him. You soon learned that the attractive man who always made you laugh was also one with the kindest soul you had ever met. You knew from that day that you had chosen right. Seokmin was a dream.

“Baby, I just put them in the oven, okay? Thirty minutes and they’ll be ready,” Seokmin called as he made his way back to your shared bedroom. A pretty smile graced his face as he caught sight of you wrapped up in the blankets. “How are you feeling now?”

His soft question made your heart melt a little, and with a gentle hand reaching to brush back your hair, you felt overwhelmed all at once. What did you do to deserve a man as perfect as him?

“Still feels like someone’s stabbing my insides repeatedly, but you’re making it better,” you told him, raking your hand up to meet his, interlacing your fingers together. He frowned slightly at your response, hating to see you in such pain, even if it was a normal thing.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokmin’s voice was gentle, soothing to your ears. Whenever you were around him, all the pain you felt seemed to subside, even just a little. His touch was delicate as he pulled you up from the pillows for a hug, squeezing extra tightly when he heard the muffled whimper of pain escape your lips. He knew after years that this is all you needed. A warm hug, comforting words, and delicious fudgy brownies to distract from the pain.

Tender kisses were what came next, the first few pressed to your cheek before he travelled lower to your lips. You giggled with every exaggerated ‘mwah!’ that Seokmin added after every peck, attempting to lift your mood in any way. And it always worked wonders.

It worked too well, in fact, judging by the whine of protest that left your lips as soon as he stopped kissing you. But he remedied it as quickly as he could, lips falling back onto yours, hands holding your waist gently, cautiously, as if you were in danger of breaking at any additional pressure. To Seokmin, you were the most precious part of his life. He made it quite known with his selflessness and caring towards you. And if you were to ever doubt it, all it took was one bite of brownie to be reminded again.

Seokmin was a dream. And he was all yours.

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,, @parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot

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nameless-jamie · 2 days ago

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I Want You...Professionally

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing

A/N: A tiny little fluff scenario. Just for the vibes.

It was vacation time for Jamie's favorite assistant. Well, his only assistant. She had organized everything, a temporary assistant for Jamie, a good book she could read while relaxing on her couch, but she obviously didn't calculate Jamie's brattiness.

Y/N had barely been out for a week when the first text came in.

Jamie: Who the fuck is this Jerry lad?

She frowned at the message before another one followed.

Jamie: He’s in my kitchen, Y/N. My sanctuary. What’s next? My fucking shower?

Jamie: If he touches my shampoo, I’m calling the police.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. She had warned Jamie that a temp assistant would be sent to work for him while she was on leave. He probably didn't listen. It was supposed to be a good thing—someone to help manage his schedule, make sure he made it to training on time, and prevent situations exactly like this, all while Y/N could chill for like a week. Just one week, please!

Instead, it seemed like Jamie had decided to make it his personal mission to be as difficult as humanly possible.

Y/N: He’s literally just there to help. Be nice.

Jamie: Define “nice.”

Y/N: Don’t scare him off in under a week.

Jamie: Cannot promise that babe.

It did not take a week.

It took two days.

By that time Y/N got an angry phone call from Rebecca. Jamie had apparently run through the poor temp guy so fast that Rebecca had personally told her, “You need to deal with your idiot. Right now!”

And if the exasperation in her voice hadn’t already told Y/N everything she needed to know, the look on the temp’s face when she arrived at the club to talk to him, spoke louder than words could.

The man looked exhausted. Defeated. Like he had seen things no personal assistant should ever have to see.

"Jerry, hey how are things?" Y/N approached the man carefully and spoke in a soft voice. Damn, he looked like he was about to break.

“I can’t do it, Y/N” he had said, shaking his head. “He’s impossible.”

“Yeah,” she had sighed. “He does that sometimes.”

"He sleeps bottomless. BOTTOMLESS! He told me that I have the energy of a wet paper towel. And he only ever eats protein bars."

Jerry started crying out of frustration and hugged Y/N's shoulder, a little too tight. Nice, her favorite blouse is now tear-stained. Fuckin' Tartt.

Y/N patted Jerry's back awkwardly. "Shit, okay. I'll deal with it."

So when Jamie showed up at her flat unannounced that evening—because of course he did—she was more than ready to deal with him.

“Jamie,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms. “What the fuck.”

Jamie blinked at her. “What?”

“You terrorized him.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You made him cry, Jamie.” Y/N deadpanned.

Jamie scoffed. “I barely said anythin'. He cried over one little comment.”

“You told him he had ‘the energy of a wet paper towel.’”

Jamie shrugged. “He did.”

“Jamie.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping onto her couch like he had just run a marathon. “Nah, you don't get it, t'was a whole nightmare. He was just there all the time. Following me around, tellin’ me what to do, actin’ like he knew me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean like how I do my job?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not like you.”

“Oh, really?” She crossed the room, standing in front of him. “Because you’ve never had a problem with me following you around before and telling you what to do. But suddenly, this guy shows up, and you turn into a little shit?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I am a little shit. Always been one.”

She huffed. “Jamie.”

“What?” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before looking up at her.

"Why is it different with me, tell me." She put her hand on his arm lovingly, trying to coax the answer out of him.

Jamie was frustrated. "I don't know. Maybe because you get me and... And maybe I don’t want someone else bossing me around, yeah? Maybe I just want you.”

The words hit her like a fucking freight train.

Jamie must’ve realized what he had said because his mouth snapped shut, his jaw tensing.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“In, like, a professional way?” Jamie said as more of a question than a statement.

“Jamie,” she said, with a warning voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head like he wanted to take it all back. “Forget it. I'll go apologize to the guy.”

“No Jamie, wait.” She stepped closer. "I mean you should definitely eventually apologize, you made the guy cry for god sake! But wait..."

Jamie met her gaze, something uncertain flickering behind his eyes.

She licked her lips, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. “You want me?”

Jamie’s throat bobbed. “Yeah.”

Her heart stupidly skipped a beat. “In, like, a professional way.”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smirk. “Sure. That.”

Her breath caught.

And then, because Jamie Tartt was a menace—because he could never just say something and leave it at that—he tilted his head, voice dropping to something dangerously soft.

“You okay, love?”

She could’ve said yes.

She should’ve said yes.

Instead, she let out a sharp breath and muttered, “Fuck you.”

Jamie grinned and turned toward the door. “Knew it. I'll be off then, apologizing to Berry.”

"His name is Jerry!"

"I knew that!"

The silence that followed after Jamie left wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full of things left unsaid. Y/N thought about his words and their meaning a lot. Maybe I just want you.

Maybe they weren’t ready for the next step yet, and maybe they were, but for now, they both knew one thing—neither of them was going anywhere.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #afc richmond #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #roy kent #jamie tartt imagine #PA x Jamie Tartt

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nottivagos · 1 day ago

Note

MAFIA CARLOS MAKING A COMEBACK?? i'm the one who is going to cry ヽ(；▽；)ノ no rush for the fics but i so want to wait until you get jock!carlos out before sending ideas, maybe art student!danny even if i'm not a danny girlie but i have an idea 👀 i don't to overwhelm you with ideas. you got this! good luck!!

- 🐇

You're back again I see.... Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Wednesday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: 🐇NONNIE!!! ugh i love you. this one has been sitting in my drafts for WAYYYYYY too long. if you want a song to listen whilst reading this one, check out "When You Dress Up" by Lucia and The Best Boys <3

Smokey air clung around you as wisps of grey floated to the ceiling, in the vast, antique Billiard Room on Carlos’s estate. The stagnant stench of rich Cubans and imported whiskey burnt your senses. The atmosphere heavy with the weight of dirty money, the reek of wealth wrapped suffocatingly tight around yourself.

The eyes of men that dared look at you for too long burnt into your bare skin that dared make itself noticeable, their gazes lingering on the flimsy fabric that clung ever too desperately to your frame. The faint sounds of cheap lighters crackled every so often, followed by men’s relaxed sighs as they took that initial drag of the sweet nicotine which rushed through their blood. Condensation off of your crystal glass became uncomfortable to the touch as you sat silently in the lion’s den, waiting for that hungry someone to pounce.

Low murmurs was the ambience for the evening. Business talks lowly conversed as men whispered into each other's ears about their next deals with sleazy politicians or when their next imports of drugs were coming into the country.

You’d become accustomed to the large fortune Carlos Sainz owned. The empires he’d conquered to be at the top, the blood that had been shed on the pavements of Madrid, the screams of commonfolk’s fear that rang around your ears— it was like second nature now. At first it was endearing. Really, it was. Why wouldn’t it be? You were allowed as many shopping sprees as your heart desired, unlimited budgets for items you didn’t need more of, the designer goods that were constantly being added to your ever growing wardrobe— you swam in Carlos’s luxury, indulging in materialistic filth.

However, you soon found yourself becoming desensitised to the thrill of receiving such gifts. It was obvious to the naked eye that Mr Sainz had a looming, heavy influence on what you wore around his lavish grounds. Yes, you had the liberty of buying whatever you chose, but you didn’t have the liberty of showing off the full outfits that you wore.

‘The first rule of being a trophy: play dress-up and sit pretty.’ You remembered one of Carlos’s lackey's wives telling you. The advice was like a distant memory back then. You recalled not knowing what a ‘trophy’ meant in that scenario, but you soon came to understand why she said it.

Stay silent, sit pretty, don't bring too much attention to yourself and you'll survive in this life. That was what ingrained into your mind as you adjusted yourself slightly waiting for Carlos to arrive.

Wearing something that he wouldn't approve of was frisky, you knew that, but what you also knew was that you were practically untouchable. Despite wearing the black, flimsy, low cut dress that rode up your thighs which made heads turn, and their eyes glimmer with hunger at the sight, Carlos’s men knew their place in correlation to you, and it was very noticeable that you weren't going to be touched by them anytime soon.

Time droned on deadly slow, the soft ticks of the antique grandfather clock made it even more harrowing. You could sense a shift in atmosphere when Carlos arrived, the small talk dissipated into nothing. Long hair tickled your bare shoulders as you locked eyes with him for a brief moment. Carlos always had a knack for giving you an unreadable expression— a walking paradox for emotion, some may say— but the way his jaw locked into place as he assessed the way the dark fabric clung to you in the wrong places was enough to make your heart drop.

He took his seat next to you, a large hand coming to rest on your bare thigh almost immediately. The touch wasn't as loving as it usually was, no, this one held possessiveness to it. A flicker of agitation glimmered in his eyes before he cleared his throat to proceed with the meeting he'd arranged.

How you dreaded everything from the moment he started talking, the murmuring of others following. A smug burst of confidence was your overall tragic downfall, as a cocktail of emotions swam around in your stomach, mixing with the alcohol that burnt in its wake. You'd never even wanted a meeting to be over so fast, yet secretly yearning for it to not. Biting your inner cheek in desperation, you caught one of Carlos’s lackey's giving you a smirk in your peripheral vision. A hitched breath followed, as you swallowed your embarrassment, looking straight ahead to try and compose yourself.

Carlos gave you a harsh squeeze on the thigh in response to the change in your demeanour. It was almost as if it was a warning. Maybe even a silent ‘I told you so’. You didn't dare look at him, the intensity of his anger suffocating you as the meeting blurred into nothing whilst your head screamed out in agonising dread.

The rest of the evening was a blur. One by one soon enough Carlos’s lackeys were leaving, some with their partners, some after slipping wads of cash to the man sat next to you, some with no recognition of Carlos on the way out.

The last man finally exited the large room as the large, oak door closed with a stark click. Carlos had already moved over to the pristine, untouched pool table at this point, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter placed on another small table beside it. He let out a tut as he let his glass fill to a moderate amount, before a sharp snap of his fingers followed, demanding you come to him.

“Carlos, I—” you began to try to reason, your voice a little shakier than usual. The cold man was emotionally unresponsive, as you brought a hand to brush against his upper arm in hope of a little change in demeanour.

If anything, trying to reason made it worse. Something in Carlos snapped, a large hand wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you towards him, before he pressed your back against the pool table, his body looming over you as his brown doe eyes stayed locked onto your's from above.

Opening your mouth to plead your case, a finger came to press against your lips. “Not another word,” Carlos’s thick accent was dark, the command evident as you submissively nodded helplessly.

“You've already made a few heads spin this evening, haven't you princesa?” His interrogatives bit harshly as he settled himself in between your legs. “What were you thinking, huh? Dressing like that in front of my men? Looking for some kind of reaction?”

“Carlos,” you breathed hopelessly, eyes widened as you stood below him completely at his mercy.

“I didn't tell you to speak, did I?” He butted in, a dark eyebrow raised in response.

“No Carlos,” you responded, “you didn't.”

“Then be a good girl and don't talk,” he drawled into your ear, his hot breath fanning onto your ear as he pressed his lips against your neck, a little underneath your earlobe.

You shivered slightly, feeling his hot kisses trail down the side of your neck as his teeth grazed the skin. A pathetic whine escaped your lips as you laid underneath him helpless, just letting him barrage you with hard bites and soothing licks of his tongue over the sore spots on your collarbone.

You moaned softly, writhing slightly in Carlos’s grip. You felt yourself getting wetter as Carlos peppered wet kisses across your visible chest, before finally catching your lips with a searing one. Your lips melted on his as your mouths fought for dominance, Carlos’s growing clothed erection grazing against your damp panties, the friction driving you crazy.

When he pulled away, a little line of saliva connected both of you together, his lips forming into a wicked upon the sight of you lying on the pool table. Chest rising with ragged breaths, cheeks flushed a harsh crimson, eyes wide and pleading. Carlos’s bites still stung, and you both knew there would be hickeys in their wake tomorrow, a punishment for dressing like you did this evening.

“Carlos,” you pleaded with a soft whine. “I'm sorry, please,” you whispered, the look in your eyes begging for more.

He just chuckled tauntingly in response. “You really think you deserve being fucked after what you've done, huh, cariño?” He teased with mockery, his brown eyes darker than usual.

“Such a dirty girl for me,” he drawled, calloused fingertips tracing along your collarbone ever so slowly which drove you even more insane. “Is that what you wanted all along? To dress like this just so I'd fuck you?” He asked as his hand came to cup your cheeks, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your flushed apple.

You bashfully shook your head, an obvious lie on your part, gulping nervously in response. You couldn't make eye contact with him, not with the pooling desire burning in between your legs, which you'd begun to rub your thighs with to help alleviate.

“My, my,” Carlos hummed, licking his lips ever so slightly. “Maybe if you weren't so much of a slut, I'd take you right now,” he mumbled, “but after that little show you put on for my men? Now I'm not so sure.”

You groaned in response to his words. Your body yearned for his touch, the slow trails of his fingertips ghosting over your hot skin as it practically begged for more. Carlos pitied you. The sight was so beautifully saddening, you looked so desperate, so needy for him and it only added fuel to his own fire.

“Look at you,” Carlos sighed before letting out another tut in mockery, looking down at you with a feigned frown, “all helpless and needy for me. Whining underneath me like the bitch you are,” he added before he slid down your thighs, positioning himself on the floor in between them.

“Open up for me nena,” he commanded lowly, nudging your thighs apart slightly. “Come on,” he encouraged.

Abiding to his command, you spread yourself apart, just so your soaked panties were on display for him. Carlos let out an amused laugh in response to the sight, before his fingertips came to clip themselves around the hem and pull them down your legs with ease.

“Carlos,” you breathed again, feeling his hot breath mingle with the cold air of the room on your slick folds. “Carlos, I—”

You were cut off by Carlos’s tongue delving into your weeping cunt uninvited, nose slightly nudging against your clit as you gasped in response. Hungry hands clawed at his head almost instantly, nails combing through his beautiful brown hair as he continued to lap up at your pussy, his tongue working miracles as you moaned loudly.

The heat in your belly burnt swiftly as you felt yourself teetering over the edge with every lick or suck Carlos made on your slick cunt. Eyes rolled back as the coil began to tighten to a new intensity as you felt your imminent crash of ecstasy waiting to happen impatiently.

Your nails dug into Carlos’s scalp as your body finally let go after the pleasure became agonisingly too much to handle, your body shuddering uncontrollably with the longing release your body was desiring for. Crying out with an overwhelming pleasure, you whined as Carlos lapped at your dripping pussy, savouring the taste of your orgasm on his tongue.

“Good girl,” he purred onto your cunt, before pressing a soft kiss against it. He stood up from his knees, some of your juices still congealed on his face as he looked down at your panting mess of a state.

“Next time I won't give in so easily, cariño,” Carlos cooed as his hand came back up to your face and rubbed your cheek again. “Dress like that again in front of my men and I'll take you in front of them,” he warned, his thick accent low as he had a devilish smirk on his face, “but I bet you'd like that wouldn't you, princesa?”

like mafia!carlos? fancy sending me an ask in my inbox so you can be included in my notebook! - notti <3

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reveriebae · 2 days ago

Text

Loyalty

pairing(s) : Jeong Yunho x f!reader

word count : 8457

summary : You had always kept things light, until a certain someone changes the rules. With a game of chase, tension builds between you and him, leaving you questioning where the lines truly are. What happens when control slips and the heat becomes too much to ignore?

genre : smut

warning(s) : possessive! Yunho, unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex. Let me know if I missed anything!

Part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

It was a regular Saturday, one of those nights where everything seemed laid-back, just a bit of adrenaline in the air from the thrill of a race. Mingi had dragged you along to watch his friends compete, even though you weren’t too interested in the whole racing scene. Still, it was a chance to get out, and you weren’t gonna pass that up. Besides, Mingi always had a way of making it sound more exciting than it really was.

You leaned back against the railing, watching the cars rev their engines on the starting line. Mingi’s voice echoed from beside you, his usual grin plastered across his face as he talked about how “insane” Yunho, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and San were behind the wheel.

“Just wait. Yunho’s gonna win tonight,” Mingi said, nudging you with his elbow. “Dude’s got a need for speed. You might wanna watch closely.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just try not to fall asleep.”

Mingi laughed, but you weren’t listening to him anymore. Your gaze had shifted to the racers on the track. Yunho was talking with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, his attention flickering over to you for a second. His eyes locked with yours, and something about the way his lips curved into that playful smirk made your heart skip a beat.

You weren’t stupid—you knew exactly what kind of guy Yunho was. Charming, confident, and always surrounded by girls. He had a reputation for being the fun one, but you weren’t looking for fun. You had your own rules, your own way of handling things. Casual. No strings attached. You didn’t do loyalty—not after everything that had happened before.

But still, as you watched him approach with that easy swagger, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was a little different. He was already too close before you even realized it.

“Y/N,” Yunho called your name, a grin tugging at his lips. “What’s up? Didn’t know Mingi was bringing a cute girl to watch the race.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just here to watch. I’m not really into all the hype.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it exciting for you,” Yunho said, stepping a little closer. He was a little too close, but you didn’t back away. Don’t fall for it, you told yourself. He was just a guy—another one of Mingi’s friends, another person you could keep at arm’s length.

“Who’s your money on?” he asked, still watching you with that intense gaze.

You gave him a dismissive smile. “Not a fan of betting on things I know I won’t win,” you replied, teasing him a little. “But I guess if I had to pick, I’d go with the guy who looks like he has the most fun.” You nodded toward Seonghwa, who was smirking, chatting with San.

Yunho chuckled, leaning against the railing beside you. “You know, I don’t mind taking that challenge,” he said, voice low and a little too serious for your liking. “But you should be careful with your bets. You might just end up losing something you didn’t plan on.”

You didn’t respond, giving him a quick side glance, but you couldn’t help the flush that crept up your neck. Don’t let him get to you. But there was something about the way he said it, that dark promise in his voice, that made your stomach twist.

Mingi appeared beside you, flashing a grin at you both. “You two getting cozy already?” he teased, eyeing Yunho and then you. You shot him a look that was meant to silence him, but Yunho just laughed, unbothered.

As the race started, the cars took off, the roar of engines filling the air, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you weren’t paying attention to the race at all. Every time you glanced over at Yunho, there he was, his focus locked on you like he was trying to figure you out.

And you hated how much you liked it.

The race went on, but you could barely concentrate. The engines roared as the cars zoomed by, but your eyes kept flicking back to Yunho. He wasn’t paying much attention to the race either. Instead, his gaze was fixed on you, his expression a little too intense for your liking. It was like he was studying you, gauging every little reaction.

You tried to ignore him, but it was hard. He was standing too close, his presence like a weight pressing down on you. Every time he leaned in to speak, his breath was warm against your ear, his voice smooth and deep, sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you sure you don’t want to place a bet? I could show you how exciting it gets when you’re in the game,” Yunho said, his words laced with something dangerous.

You shook your head, trying to shake the feeling that he wasn’t just talking about the race. “I’m good. Not really into gambling.”

He smirked, leaning a little closer. “It’s not gambling if you know you’re gonna win,” he whispered, his lips just inches from your ear.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your breath hitching slightly, but you couldn’t let him see it. You couldn’t let him win that easily. “Maybe. But I’m not so sure about that.”

Yunho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and focused. “You don’t think I can win, do you?” he asked, a playful challenge in his tone, but there was something deeper, more possessive hidden behind it. He was pushing you, seeing how far he could go.

“I didn’t say that,” you replied quickly, though your voice was a little shaky. Focus, Y/N, you reminded yourself. He was just another guy, another player in this game. You weren’t about to get caught in his trap.

Before you could say anything else, Mingi slapped Yunho on the back, pulling his attention away. “Quit messing with my sister, man. She’s not here to fall for your charm,” he said, looking between the two of you.

Yunho just laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just keeping things interesting. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she has a good time.”

You shot Mingi a thankful look, but it didn’t quite ease the tension Yunho had stirred up. It was like he was testing the waters, seeing just how much he could make you squirm before you gave in. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep your distance.

As the race wrapped up, Yunho leaned in one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ll be around, Y/N. Don’t think you can avoid me forever.”

You couldn’t tell if he was challenging you or warning you, but either way, something told you he wasn’t done with you.

And just like that, you found yourself wondering if you were playing with fire.

The race ended, and the crowd erupted in cheers as Seonghwa pulled ahead to take the win. His car, sleek and dark, had crossed the finish line first, and everyone was congratulating him, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement. Yunho’s red car had finished second, and though he looked a little disappointed, the way he carried himself showed that he wasn’t about to let it bother him.

As the others made their way toward Seonghwa’s place to celebrate, Mingi turned to you with a grin. “I’ll catch up with you later. You’re gonna be fine on your own, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you assured him, trying to hide the tight knot in your stomach.

But as Mingi started walking away, you noticed Yunho lingering near his car. He caught your eye, offering a small, almost knowing smile.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll see you off,” Yunho said smoothly, walking toward you. “I’ve got something else to do, so I’ll skip the party tonight.”

Mingi, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean you’re seeing her off? She can take a cab.”

You saw Yunho’s smirk grow just a little. “It’s nothing. I just want to make sure she gets home safely. Don’t worry about it.”

Mingi hesitated, looking between you and Yunho. His protective instincts flared, but after a moment, he just shrugged and muttered something about trusting you. “Fine, whatever. Just… don’t keep her out too late.”

You rolled your eyes as Mingi walked off, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t about the time. It was about Yunho. And you were starting to feel like Mingi was more worried about you getting tangled up in whatever game Yunho was playing than anything else.

As you climbed into the passenger seat of Yunho’s red car, the engine hummed to life. The ride back to your apartment was a quiet one at first. Yunho’s presence beside you was overwhelming, the tension in the air thick and unspoken. His grip on the steering wheel was firm, his jaw set in that way that made him look so damn serious. But you could still feel his eyes flicking to you every now and then, as if he were testing you, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“So,” Yunho’s voice broke the silence, smooth and almost casual, “Seonghwa definitely earned that win. But you were watching me, right?”

You let out a breath, trying to act casual, but there was something about his question that felt almost like a dare. “I watched the race. What’s the big deal?”

He laughed softly, but there was an edge to it. “Right. The race. Sure. But you were looking at me, weren’t you?”

You shot him a glance, but his focus remained on the road. You wanted to brush it off, to deny it, but the way he was acting made it hard. Every inch of you felt like it was being pulled into his orbit, and the more you fought it, the more you found yourself getting tangled up in his game.

“I wasn’t,” you said, your voice faltering just enough that you knew he caught it.

Yunho’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk, his fingers tightening slightly on the wheel. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if you were watching me. I like it when you’re paying attention.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest. There was something about the way he said it, so casually, that made it feel like it wasn’t just a comment about the race anymore. The unspoken tension between you two was building, thick and undeniable.

The car slowed as you neared your apartment, the sound of the tires against the pavement almost too loud in the quiet. Yunho pulled into the parking lot, but he didn’t park right away. Instead, he took a moment, his eyes catching yours. It was brief, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“You don’t have to be so distant, Y/N,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, “I’m not like the others. I won’t hurt you. But you’ve got to trust me if we’re going to keep playing this game.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t need any of this, that you didn’t want to fall into whatever he was offering, but the truth was you weren’t sure anymore. With him so close, with the way he looked at you, it was hard to hold on to your walls.

Instead, you just said, “Thanks for the ride.”

Yunho didn’t smile, but there was something in his eyes. “You’re welcome. Just remember… I’m always here if you need me, Y/N.”

You didn’t respond, but the weight of his words hung in the air, even as he shifted the car into park. As you stepped out, his gaze lingered on you, almost too intense, like he was waiting for something.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t just leaving you with a ride. He was leaving you with a promise. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

The next day came faster than you’d expected. The lingering tension from the night before still clung to you like a shadow, and no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, it was there—right at the back of your mind, like a soft hum that refused to be ignored.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Yunho looked at you when he dropped you off. There was something in his eyes, something possessive, like he was claiming a piece of you without even trying. And you hated how much you liked it.

As you made your way to the café that morning, trying to push thoughts of him away, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You reached for it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a message from Yunho.

Yunho: “You left in a hurry last night. Didn’t even let me walk you up.”

You scoffed, fingers hovering over the screen as you debated how to respond. It wasn’t like you had anything to hide. But the way he’d said it… it felt almost like a subtle accusation. Like he was reminding you that you didn’t let him in.

You: “I’m fine. I didn’t need you to walk me up.”

A few seconds passed before the reply came.

Yunho: “Mhm. Sure you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, tapping your phone screen with frustration. You had no idea why you were getting so caught up in this. It was supposed to be casual, right? No strings attached. Just like everything else.

But something about Yunho was different. You weren’t sure what it was, but you couldn’t help but be drawn to him in a way that was harder to ignore.

Before you could think too much about it, you heard footsteps approaching. Turning your head, you saw Wooyoung walking over to you, a grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, look who’s out here so early.” Wooyoung greeted you with a teasing smile. “How’s the ride back home last night?”

You glanced away quickly, trying not to make it obvious that you were still feeling the heat from the night before. "It was fine," you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray you.

“I bet,” Wooyoung smirked, clearly noticing the shift in your mood. “Yunho looked pretty serious about giving you a ride home. You know he doesn't do that for just anyone.”

You froze. “What do you mean?”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “He’s the type of guy who likes to keep things casual, but I’ve never seen him so... invested before. Just a heads up, Y/N. Don’t get caught up. You’re his next target. And once he’s got his sights on you…” Wooyoung trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Your heart skipped. You knew what he meant. But part of you didn’t want to believe it. Part of you wanted to believe that Yunho was different. But another part—maybe the part that still feared getting hurt—couldn’t help but wonder if Wooyoung was right.

“I can handle myself,” you replied coolly, trying to sound unaffected by his words.

Wooyoung just smirked again, obviously not buying it. “Sure you can. But just remember… there’s more to Yunho than what he shows you.”

Before you could respond, Wooyoung was already heading inside the café, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion swirling in your chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to get a lot more complicated.

You spent the next few minutes pretending Wooyoung’s words didn’t bother you. You ordered your coffee, found a quiet corner, and scrolled mindlessly through your phone, but nothing could shake the way your stomach twisted at his warning.

You’re his next target.

It shouldn’t have mattered. You’d been through this before—casual, no strings, nothing deep. If anything, Yunho was your target, not the other way around. But something about the way Wooyoung said it… like he knew something you didn’t… it got under your skin.

Your fingers tightened around your cup just as a shadow loomed over your table.

“Morning, baby.”

You looked up, pulse skipping. Yunho stood in front of you, his broad frame cutting out the light from the café window. He looked effortless, like he didn’t even have to try—just a simple hoodie, messy hair, and those damn dark eyes pinning you down.

You took a slow sip of your coffee, trying not to react. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Yunho pulled out the chair across from you, his lips quirking up in amusement. “That makes two of us.”

You didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered over you, slow and assessing, like he was searching for something.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You shrugged. "Why wouldn’t I?"

His smile widened just a little, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "No reason. Just wondering if I kept you up last night."

Your breath hitched. You hated the way he said things like that—so smooth, so controlled, like he knew exactly what kind of reaction he was pulling from you.

You forced yourself to look unimpressed. "Not at all. I slept just fine."

“Good,” Yunho murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “Wouldn’t want you distracted.”

The tension between you thickened, unspoken but very present. You had the sudden urge to look away, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you smirked. “Didn’t expect you to care so much.”

Yunho chuckled, low and deep. "Maybe I don’t. Maybe I just like messing with you."

Your fingers tightened around your cup. His words were playful, but there was something lurking beneath them, something deeper than just a game.

"Then don't get attached," you said, your voice light but laced with meaning. "I like keeping things casual."

For a second, something flickered in Yunho’s eyes—something unreadable. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual smirk.

"Casual, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretching out beneath the table, nearly brushing against yours. "Funny. You don't seem like the type to play it safe."

You raised a brow. "And what type do I seem like?"

Yunho tilted his head, studying you. "The kind that likes danger."

You felt your breath hitch before you could stop it. His voice was soft but firm, like a promise. Or maybe a threat.

Before you could respond, Yunho’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, glancing at the screen before standing up.

“Duty calls.” He tucked his phone away, then gave you a long, unreadable look. “See you later, Y/N.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you with nothing but a racing pulse and a head full of thoughts you really didn’t want to have.

Maybe Wooyoung was right. Maybe you were playing with fire.

But for some reason… you wanted to get burned.

The next evening, Mingi was already dragging you out of your apartment before you could protest.

"Another race? Didn’t we just go to one?" you groaned, but Mingi just grinned, practically shoving you into his car.

"This one's different," he said. "And you had fun last time, didn’t you?"

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him on it. The truth was, you did enjoy the rush of it—the adrenaline, the roaring engines, the smell of burnt rubber. It was dangerous, reckless, but exciting. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see a certain someone again.

By the time you arrived, the crowd was already buzzing with energy. The night was electric, neon lights casting sharp glows against sleek, polished cars.

Mingi parked and led you toward the starting line, where the racers were getting into position. Your eyes flickered over to Yunho’s car—a sleek, fiery red beast that looked just as fast as it did dangerous.

He caught your gaze as he climbed into the driver’s seat, sending you a smirk before revving his engine.

You quickly looked away, ignoring the way your stomach flipped.

The race started, and just like that, they were off—tires screeching, metal groaning, speed blurring everything together.

And this time, Yunho took first place.

The moment he stepped out of his car, the crowd erupted, girls flocking toward him like moths to a flame.

You watched as they threw themselves at him—hands on his arms, fingers grazing his chest, sweet voices giggling in his ear. Yunho didn’t seem particularly interested, but he didn’t push them away either.

Not that it mattered to you.

You sipped your drink, looking completely unbothered.

Wooyoung, standing next to you, chuckled under his breath. "Cute act."

You frowned. "What act?"

Wooyoung smirked, leaning in. "The whole ‘I don’t care’ thing."

You shot him a glare, but he only laughed, shaking his head. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Before you could respond, Mingi clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I was thinking," he started, grinning. "You and San would look good together."

You nearly choked on your drink. "What?"

Mingi turned to San, who had just walked up. "Don’t you think Y/N’s your type?"

San, always one to play along, grinned. "Oh? You tryna set us up, Mingi?"

"Why not?" Mingi shrugged. "She could use a guy like you."

You rolled your eyes, about to shut it down when you felt someone watching.

And when you turned your head, you met his gaze.

Yunho was staring—no, glaring.

His jaw was tight, his eyes dark as he watched the interaction unfold.

Then, without warning, he was walking straight toward Mingi.

"You know I’m interested in your sister," Yunho said, voice low but firm. "So why are you trying to push her toward San?"

Mingi blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Wait, what?"

Yunho stepped closer. "I’m not playing with her, Mingi. I want her."

Mingi scoffed. "You? The same Yunho who always has girls hanging off of him? You really expect me to believe that?"

Yunho didn’t back down. "I don’t care about them." His gaze flickered to you, intensity burning behind his eyes. "I care about her."

For a moment, Mingi just stared, his expression unreadable.

Then he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Damn it, Yunho." He exhaled sharply. "If you’re serious, prove it. ‘Cause I swear, if you mess with her—"

"I won’t," Yunho cut in, his voice unwavering. "I’ll show you."

You stood there, speechless, as the weight of his words settled in.

This wasn’t a game. Not to him.

And maybe… not to you either.

The tension from Yunho’s words still lingered in the air, but you weren’t about to entertain it.

Not now.

Not when you knew exactly how this story went.

Men like Yunho—possessive, intense, all-consuming—were dangerous.

So instead of addressing the weight of his words, you just huffed, forcing a smirk as you folded your arms.

"You care about me?" You raised an eyebrow, amusement lacing your tone. "That’s cute."

Yunho’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing slightly, but you just turned to Mingi with an exaggerated sigh. "I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m suddenly helpless, Min. I don’t belong to anyone."

San, sensing the tension, let out a whistle. "Damn, should I be offended?" He grinned playfully. "Feels like you just rejected me and Yunho at the same time."

You gave him a wink. "Oh, baby, I don’t reject anyone."

Wooyoung let out a sharp laugh, and Mingi groaned, rubbing his temples.

"You are so annoying," Mingi muttered. "Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face."

But Yunho?

Yunho wasn’t laughing.

He was still watching you, still processing your words, that dark, unreadable look settling into his features again.

"Noted," he finally said, voice calm but heavy.

And the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

---

Later that night, your phone buzzed.

Yunho: You wanna act like this is a game? Fine.

Yunho: Let’s see how long you last.

You stared at the messages, heart skipping a beat.

Then, with a smirk, you typed back.

You: Challenge accepted, baby.

But what you didn’t realize…

Yunho wasn’t the type to lose.

---

The next few days felt like a silent war.

Yunho wasn’t the type to chase openly, but he was always there.

Whenever you turned around at the races, his eyes were already on you. Whenever you laughed a little too hard at something San said, he’d be right beside you—close, possessive, radiating heat like a warning.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you.

But you weren’t about to fold.

So you played along.

When another racer—some guy named Jisung—offered to take you for a ride in his car, you accepted with a smirk, knowing damn well Yunho was watching.

But the second you went to open the door, a firm hand caught your wrist.

"Not happening," Yunho muttered, voice low and final.

Jisung looked between you two, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Uh—?"

Yunho didn’t even spare him a glance.

"I’ll take her home," he said.

Your lips curled, amusement flickering through your expression. "Oh? I don’t remember asking."

Yunho’s grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either.

"You didn’t," he said. "But you will."

That struck something in you.

But before you could call him out on it, Mingi’s voice cut in.

"Bro, let her do what she wants," Mingi sighed, but he didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked like he expected this. "She’s not gonna listen anyway."

Yunho’s jaw ticked, and for a second, it seemed like he might argue.

But then he looked at you.

And you could feel the warning in his stare.

A promise. A threat.

This wasn’t over.

And somehow, you knew…

You would be asking him to take you home soon.

Even if you didn’t want to admit it yet.

The tension only got worse after that night.

You could feel it everywhere—every time Yunho was near, every time his gaze settled on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. He wasn’t the type to throw a fit or make a scene, but that only made it worse.

Because you knew Yunho wasn’t the type to lose.

And yet, you kept playing.

The next race came faster than expected. Mingi dragged you along as usual, talking about how tonight’s lineup was going to be intense. Apparently, some big-name racers from out of town had shown up to challenge Yunho and Seonghwa.

You weren’t really paying attention. Not until Yunho showed up.

Dressed in all black, his jaw tight, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

Something dark flashed across his face.

Then he smirked.

And just like that, the game was back on.

You pretended not to care, shifting your attention to San instead, laughing at whatever stupid joke he had just made. Mingi seemed pleased, clearly trying to push you closer to his friend, but you didn’t miss the way Wooyoung gave you that same knowing look.

"You’re really gonna keep playing with fire, huh?" Wooyoung muttered under his breath, just low enough for you to hear.

You just smirked, shrugging. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Wooyoung huffed a laugh. "Sure you don’t."

Then the race started.

And Yunho won.

It wasn’t even close. He cut through the track like he was born for it, weaving between cars like a shadow, his red car a blur against the night.

And when he crossed the finish line first, the crowd erupted.

You watched as girls swarmed him immediately, their hands all over him, their voices high and sweet. He let them. He even smiled, that cocky grin of his sharp as a knife.

You forced yourself to look away.

"You’re really unbothered, huh?"

Wooyoung’s voice was laced with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. "Why would I be bothered? Yunho’s got a lot of options. It’s not that deep."

Wooyoung just hummed, unconvinced. "You’re his next target, you know."

That made you freeze for half a second.

But you covered it up quickly, tilting your head. "Oh? That what he told you?"

Wooyoung just smirked. "Nah. He doesn’t have to."

You scoffed. "Yunho's got girls hanging off him every night. You think I’m dumb enough to take him seriously?"

"Maybe not," Wooyoung said, "but Yunho’s not like the others."

That made you pause.

But before you could ask what he meant, you caught sight of Yunho again.

Only this time, his attention wasn’t on the girls.

It was on you.

His smile was gone.

And the look in his eyes?

It wasn’t just playful anymore.

It was a warning.

The night seemed to drag on after that, with the races winding down and the crowd thinning out. You found yourself lingering near the edge of the lot, still pretending to be uninterested, chatting with San as he nudged you playfully. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Yunho’s eyes on you.

He wasn’t among the group of girls anymore.

You hadn’t noticed when he slipped away from them, but now, as you stood there, a low growl of an engine hummed in the distance, and you knew. You knew it was him.

You turned, but before you could even take a step, Yunho was already standing in front of you, his presence like a force of nature.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, the playful edge replaced by something darker, something demanding.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back casually. "What’s up, Yunho?"

"I thought we had an understanding." He didn’t even waste time with pleasantries. His eyes searched yours, daring you to look away. "You’re not here to play games with me, are you?"

You tried to keep your cool, but something in the air was different now. It was thick with tension, and you could feel your heart picking up pace. "You’re the one playing games, Yunho. Last I checked, you were busy with those girls."

He took a step closer, his presence suddenly feeling overwhelming. His lips curled into that signature smirk, but his eyes weren’t playful anymore. "You really think I care about them?"

You didn’t answer, trying to keep your deflection up, but Yunho wasn’t having it. He took another step forward, cornering you against the side of a parked car. The intensity in his gaze was suffocating.

"You think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing?" he muttered, his voice rough, low—like a whisper just for you. "You keep pushing me away, keep acting like it’s just casual, but you know exactly what this is."

You swallowed hard, not able to bring yourself to look away from him. You couldn’t—he was pulling you in, inch by inch, like gravity.

"Is that so?" you asked, voice steady despite the tension coiling in your chest.

"Yeah." Yunho’s smile faded, replaced by something darker, possessive. "I’m not like the rest of those idiots who go after anyone and everything. But I’ve made my interest clear. So what is it, Y/N?"

You tried to step away, but he held you in place, not with force but with that unspoken* pressure, like the weight of his words was enough to keep you rooted where you were.

"I told you," you started, voice shaky despite your best efforts to sound confident, "I’m not looking for anything serious. Just something casual, nothing more."

Yunho’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but there was no humor in it—only something dangerous.

"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?" His hand moved slowly, brushing against your cheek, his touch burning. "Why do you keep pretending you don’t want me to want you?"

Your breath caught in your throat, heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. You could only feel the intensity of the air between you, thick with desire and challenge.

"You don’t have to do this, Yunho," you whispered, voice betraying you with the crack in it. "It’s never going to be more than this."

"Don’t lie to me," Yunho said, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re not fooling anyone."

He stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours, and you couldn’t escape him. His presence swallowed you whole.

"You want me," he whispered in your ear. "And I’m not letting you go until I have you. Loyalty."

The moment Yunho’s lips brushed against your ear, his touch sending a shock through your body, you knew there was no escaping it. His words were dangerous, thick with promise, and you could feel them vibrating in your chest. Your breath hitched, but before you could think of pulling away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip.

"No more games," Yunho growled, voice low, controlled, but there was no mistaking the fire behind it. His hand tightened around you, practically dragging you towards his car before you could protest.

"Yunho—what the hell are you doing?" You tried to pull your arm back, but his grip was iron, and he didn’t even look at you, his focus completely on getting you into the car.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. You knew.

You tried to resist, but the instant the door slammed shut, you were trapped. Yunho’s eyes, dark and unwavering, met yours, and you could see that same dangerous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without a word, he slammed the car into gear and sped off, the engine roaring as he pushed the car faster, harder, like he was trying to outrun the world.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of panic and something else—something dangerous that you couldn’t quite place. You wanted to argue, to keep pretending that you didn’t want this, that you weren’t drawn to him in a way that you couldn’t control.

But the heat of his touch on your wrist, the way he kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he drove, made it impossible to deny.

"You’re not even going to ask where we’re going?" Yunho asked, voice rough as he turned the wheel, pushing the car even faster. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his grip as possessive as the one he had on you just moments ago.

You tried to look away, acting like you didn’t care, but you knew he could see the way your breath caught in your throat. You knew he could feel the tension between you.

"I don’t care," you said, though it came out softer than you intended.

He smirked, his eyes flashing with something wild as he pushed the car even faster. "Good. Because you don’t need to care. I’m the one in control here, Y/N. You don’t get to decide how this plays out."

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you didn’t answer, instead crossing your arms and trying to hide the way your body betrayed you—how much you were feeling everything about this. The way his voice sent a shiver down your spine, the way he looked at you like he was just waiting for the right moment to take.

When you pulled up to his place, it was clear that he didn’t care who saw, didn’t care about anything but the two of you. He parked the car with precision, the engine cutting off as he reached over, grabbing your wrist again with that same firm grip, dragging you out of the seat and toward his door.

Before you could even process, you were inside, the door slamming behind you.

Yunho didn’t waste any time. He backed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours in an instant, trapping you between him and the door. His lips crashed against yours, hot and demanding, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, wanting it just as much as you.

His kiss was fierce, urgent, and he didn’t give you a chance to pull away, his hands exploring, touching, gripping you like you were his to claim. You could feel the heat building between you, an undeniable magnetism pulling you both closer, until you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began.

Yunho’s hand slid into your hair, gripping it with just enough force to tilt your head back, his lips trailing down your neck as he kissed his way down, leaving a path of burning skin in his wake. Your breath caught in your throat as he whispered against your skin.

"I told you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "I’m not letting you go."

You tried to keep up your front, to push him away, but his touch was addictive, and everything about him was pulling you in, making you forget what you even wanted. The game you’d been playing with him, the one where you pretended you didn’t care, didn’t stand a chance.

His lips found yours again, kissing you hard, deep, like he was determined to make you feel just how much he wanted this. And for once, you didn’t fight it.

Yunho was right—he was in control now, and you were his.

Yunho wasn’t wasting a second. His hands were everywhere—pulling you closer, one hand at the back of your head, pushing you into him, the other down to your waist, gripping you like he owned you.

You could feel the hardness of him against your body, and the way your pulse raced in response only made things worse. He smirked against your lips when he felt the shiver run through you.

"Don’t try to act like you don’t want this," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. "I don’t need to act. You’re the one who—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Yunho shoved you hard against the wall, his mouth crashing down on yours with a wild urgency. You gasped, but he didn’t care, his tongue slipping inside your mouth in a hot, desperate kiss. His hand slipped under your shirt, finding the bare skin of your stomach, rough fingers brushing against your ribs as he moved to pull it off.

You tried to keep your hands at his chest, to push him away, but he was relentless. The moment you tried to shove him off, he lifted you, spinning you around so your back was pressed against the cool, unforgiving wall.

"Stop fighting me, Y/N," Yunho warned, his voice deep and breathless.

But you couldn’t. Your body was already betraying you—your chest heaving, your breathing ragged.

He let out a frustrated growl, and with one swift move, he tore your shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His hands went straight for your pants, unbuttoning them quickly before pulling them down with no hesitation.

"Y/N," Yunho panted, lips trailing down your neck, "I can feel it, you want me just as bad." His lips found the sensitive spot right below your ear, sucking hard, sending a pulse of heat through your entire body. His hands moved between your legs, fingers brushing against the waistband of your panties.

"Yunho," you gasped, barely able to keep it together, your body on fire as his hands teased your skin, leaving marks wherever he touched. He didn’t give you a chance to react before he was kissing you again, harder this time, dominating your mouth as his hands found their way back to the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to join your pants.

The moment he heard the sound of fabric tearing, Yunho grinned, and that made you feel something dangerous crawl through your veins. He wasn’t asking for permission anymore. He was taking it.

"All mine," he muttered, voice rough and hoarse, fingers slipping inside you with barely any warning, stretching you wide.

You gasped, your body tensing up at the sudden intrusion, but Yunho didn’t care. He pulled you closer, his lips back on your neck as his fingers moved, fast, rough, precise—like he already knew exactly what you needed. His breath was hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "You wanted to keep things casual, but you’re mine now, Y/N."

You couldn’t even form words, too lost in the haze of heat and sensation. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your body responded to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pressure was building, your body betraying every word you said about keeping things casual.

"Say it," Yunho demanded, his voice a low growl. "Say you want me."

You could barely catch your breath, but when his fingers found that sweet spot inside you, you had no choice but to surrender.

"I want you," you gasped, your voice coming out ragged and desperate.

He smirked, pleased, and didn’t waste another second. He pulled his fingers out of you, taking off his own clothes, the sound of fabric hitting the floor sending a thrill through your body. Without saying another word, he lifted you up again, holding you effortlessly against the wall, lining himself up at your entrance.

"I told you," he growled, his lips brushing against yours one more time. "You don’t get to play games anymore."

And then, in one swift movement, Yunho was inside you, filling you completely, his pace brutal and fast from the start. Your nails dug into his back, and you couldn’t help but let out a sharp gasp at how good it felt.

Yunho didn’t slow down, his hands gripping your hips, pushing you harder against the wall, his body slamming into yours as if he was marking you, taking you in every way he could. His breath was heavy, his grunts and growls turning into something primal as he fucked you like he was the only one who could give you what you needed.

You couldn’t think anymore—only feel. Feel the way his cock moved in and out of you, the way your body tensed with every thrust, the way his hands gripped you with enough force to leave bruises. You were his now, and the realization hit you like a wave, making everything inside you spiral.

"Fuck, Yunho!" you cried out, the pressure building, your body starting to shake as you neared the edge.

"Yeah, baby, that’s it," Yunho hissed, his pace relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. "Cum for me, Y/N. Let me see how much you need me."

And with that, you shattered.

Your body trembled, your nails scratching down his back as you came undone, screaming his name as pleasure coursed through you in waves. Yunho wasn’t far behind, his thrusts growing sloppier as he finally found his release, his breath ragged in your ear as he came inside you with a growl.

He didn’t let you down, not even when you were both left panting, bodies tangled together in the aftermath.

“You’re mine now,” Yunho murmured against your skin, his hand still gripping your waist as you tried to catch your breath.

You knew it wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to let you go. And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

Yunho’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling against yours, as you both caught your breath. The weight of what just happened settled in, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. He pulled out gently, keeping you in his arms as he guided you to the couch nearby.

You felt a little shaky, but Yunho was steady as always, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He helped you get comfortable, pulling a blanket over your body, still keeping you close to him. His hands were soft now as they traced over your skin, the tenderness a stark contrast to the roughness of moments ago.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but still laced with concern.

You nodded, still processing everything that just happened. “Yeah... I’m good.”

Yunho’s fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looked at you, his gaze serious but gentle. "I didn’t mean to rush you, Y/N. I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore. You’ve been driving me crazy, and I needed to know where we stood."

You swallowed, shifting slightly to face him, your hand finding his. "You... really want this?" You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to face the truth, but you needed to know. “I thought you just wanted to keep things casual like me.”

His jaw clenched at that, and he exhaled slowly. “I won’t lie to you, Y/N. At first, I thought I could keep it casual too. But when it’s you? I can’t. I won’t.” His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, his eyes softening. “You’ve been acting like you want to keep your distance, but I know you feel it too. You feel what I feel, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you just stared at him, taking in his words. He wasn’t looking at you with anger or impatience, just a deep intensity. “Why me, Yunho?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “There are so many other girls, you know. Why do you want me?”

Yunho’s hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His touch was warm, tender, like he was trying to soothe the doubt in your mind. "Because I don’t want anyone else," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You think I don’t see how you push me away? How you try to keep it light, like you’re not affected by all this? But I see through that. I see how you’re always right there when I need you, how you look at me when you think I don’t notice."

You felt your heart race, the warmth of his words sinking in. “But I’ve been trying to keep it casual... I don’t know how to let go of that fear, Yunho.”

He leaned in, forehead resting against yours, his voice low and raw. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not like the others. I’ll show you. If you let me, I’ll prove it to you every damn day.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. It was hard to believe after all the heartache you’d been through, but with Yunho, it felt different. He made you feel seen.

"How can you be so sure?" you asked quietly, your voice barely audible. “How do you know I won’t just run again?”

Yunho sighed, pressing his lips against your forehead, the gesture so soft it almost made your heart ache. “Because I’m not giving you a choice,” he murmured. “I’ll fight for you. I’ll make you see that what we have is real. You won’t have to run. Not from me.”

His words made something inside you click. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe you weren’t sure how to take that leap just yet. But with him, there was no more pretending, no more games. It wasn’t just the heat and the mess that made it real. It was how he cared—even when you pushed him away.

You took a deep breath, turning your face into his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I don’t know what this is yet,” you whispered, “but I’m not going anywhere either, Yunho.”

And in that moment, the uncertainty didn’t feel so scary. You could trust him. He wasn’t going to let you go.

The night stretched on, quiet now, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows. You stayed nestled in Yunho’s arms, his warmth surrounding you like a protective shield. He didn’t try to rush anything, simply content to let the silence speak for the both of you. His hand gently played with your hair, the softest of touches, as if he was savoring every moment.

You felt the weight of the world lift, just for a moment, like everything outside of this room didn’t matter. It was just you and him, and that was enough for now.

Yunho kissed the top of your head, his voice gentle when he spoke again. “You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to keep pretending. I’m here. For real.”

Your fingers curled around his, squeezing lightly, feeling the truth of his words sink in. You didn’t have to have all the answers tonight, or even tomorrow. For once, you didn’t need to figure everything out. All you needed to do was trust him.

And, for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could.

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