#(hands clasped together in front of him)

[desire-mona]

nobodys posted zacs rap yet which is crazy bc it wasnt bad

[himbo-kuto]

plot: when you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits (all lads men)

rafayel:

when your phone rang early this morning while you were on your morning jog with a panicked rafayel on the line, you knew what he was calling about. yesterday while you were visiting rafyel’s studio, you found it in disarray. paint, brushes and a variety of different papers littered any and all surfaces. you usually asked rafayel when you throw away scraps in his studio, but this time the clutter was driving you mad that you just threw away anything in sight that looked like garbage.

“hey– sorry to call you so early in the morning. did you or thomas clean my studio yesterday? there was this sketch somewhere around here with a bunch of colors and scribbles for my exhibits that’s coming up and now I can’t find it–” busted. you heard the ruffling of papers through the phone as he frantically searched for it. the guilt washed over you as you tried to formulate what to say. 

“i– i’m actually pretty close by. let me come over and help you find it.” he sighed in relief as felt like his drawing was saved. 

“thanks, i’ll see you soon.” it was your turn to sigh as you continued your jog (now sprint) over to rafayel’s studio. you might as well use this time to try and figure out ways for him to forgive you. 

you stood in front of the gate for a moment, chewing your thumb out of nervous habit before pushing through. you knew rafayel wouldn’t be mad at you, but just the fact you set back his work upset you. 

upon entering, rafayel’s back was to you. one hand was in his hair, the other on his hip as if he was trying to retrace all his steps. but before your brain could even register, you just blurted out the truth. 

“raf, i threw away the sketch– i’m so sorry! i was in here yesterday and the clutter was driving me insane! i couldn’t even get through here so i just grabbed things that looked like garbage and threw it away–” you had your eyes squeezed tight, not even wanting to see the potentially frustrated expression he was wearing. but when no response came, you peaked through your right eye to see that he was only blushing behind his own hand. 

it didn’t register that you were wearing your workout clothes– a matching set that hugged your body, well everywhere. the top you had on was a fitted cropped quarter zip jacket and unbeknownst to you on your sprint over, it had unzipped all the way– your cleavage on full display. though your hair was tucked under a cap, the way it clung to your face and chest from  your sweat didn’t go unnoticed by rafayel. 

you couldn’t help but bite back a smile as you saw the tips of his ears go red. you decided you were going to use this to your advantage. inching closer to him, you clasped your hands behind your back which only pushed your chest out further. he weakly held up his forearm as he looked away trying to get ahold of any working brain cells, but he showed no resistance once your chest made contact. you rested your chin on top of his arm, looking up innocently at him. 

“i’m sorry raf.. could you forgive me? i’ll clear my schedule and help you come up with another draft…” you spoke just above a whisper, afraid he’ll explode if you spoke any louder. a long (shakey) sigh escaped his lips along with what you interpreted as “you’ll be the death of me i swear…”

he fully turned toward you, one hand on your shoulder as the other one zipped your jacket all the way up to your neck. he cleared his throat as he cupped your cheeks together, swiftly kissing your pursed lips. 

“you better keep your promise, cutie! we have a lot of work to do.”

zayne:

you did one last swipe of lipstick as you checked yourself in the mirror. you and zayne were going to an event hosted by akso, but zayne made it clear that there was a stritch one hour limit to say your pleasantries and then go home. sometimes these gatherings were entertaining but oftentimes they were grueling to sit through, even for zayne. 

you stood up from your vanity, turning your body from side to side making sure that your dress was sitting in all the right places. gold embellishments hung from your ears and neck bringing the look all together. but in the midst of your review, you heard a series of ruffling and mumbling coming from the kitchen followed by your name. you reached over to open the door and called out to him.

“what was that, love?” 

“did you eat the fruit tart in the fridge?” you froze in your spot. you totally forgot that tart was his and you had it with your lunch this afternoon. you zoomed out to the kitchen to see zayne looking into an empty pastry box and a dejected expression like you took candy from a baby. 

“zayne– i’m so sorry i forgot that you said you wanted it and– .. i ate it” he slowly shifted his gaze from the empty box to you across the counter. your eyebrows were downturned and there was a big frown on your face. zayne always looked forward to having a sweet treat before these events, it was his reward for mustering up the courage to go. you should’ve known to save it for him, but your hunger got the best of you.

you rounded the corner of the counter, taking his hands in yours. your eyes on the verge of tears, as you continued on apologizing but all zayne could hear was blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff– your perfume, citrusy and sweet, enveloped him like a trap. with your eyelids sparkly, your lips all plumped and your hair pulled back to expose your shoulders, he couldn’t even comprehend your apology.

“okay, zayne?” he blinked once, only now registering that you’ve been talking to him the whole time. the blush immediately grazed his cheeks and ears as he looked away from you. 

“it’s okay.. i forgive you.” he pulled you in by the waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath, letting the notes of your perfume be his treat until he was able to get one later. your fingers reached up to scratch the nape of his neck as you turned to kiss his cheek, not even noticing. 

“i’ll buy you whatever you want from the bakery tomorrow, i promise”

caleb:

“you did what?!” you screeched to gideon over the phone. 

“look, i didn’t have a choice okay? caleb can be very persuasive with that evol of his. i’m sorry but i didn’t want to lose my fingers” a big sigh left your lips as you ran your fingers through your hair. you had been taking some secretive pilot lessons with gideon to try and impress caleb on your next flight lesson, but you bit off a little more than you could chew and ended up with a big bruise on your abdomen. 

“no, i get it. it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. thanks though for holding out as long as you did.” you lifted up caleb’s shirt to take a look at your little accident. it was about the size of a grapefruit with hues of yellow, purple and blue painting your skin. 

“no, me and my fingers thank you for being understanding. but you know the drill kid, ice and heat every 15 minutes.” 

“yeah, yeah, yeah. you sound like–” before you could even say his name, you heard the clattering of the locks. 

“gotta go, the colonel is in.” you quickly hung up the phone, looking around the bathroom for places to hide and decided the closet was your best option. you pulled the door shut, trying to close it as silently as possible upon hearing his footsteps approaching. 

“pipsqueak.” not a question of where you were, but a known fact. you didn’t answer, choosing to ride this out for as long as you can. 

“you can’t hide from me. you left your phone on the counter and the hallway smells like your shampoo.” damn his obsessive nature (and your stupidity thinking you could ever hide from him in his own place). 

you held your breath as your eyes snapped to the handle. he was right in front of the door. there was a pause and.. nothing. his footsteps slowly faded to where the shower was, swiftly pulling the curtain back to expose an empty tub.

“come out, come out pips. i won’t be mad, i just want to see.” liar. you got the smallest scratch on your face from a mission and he wouldn’t let you hear the end of it for weeks. 

there was no use in hiding anymore. you turned the handle, but didn’t open it all the way. he reached his fingers through the gap and opened the door to find you looking like a dog with its tail between its legs– looking down at the ground, arms guarding your mid section. caleb cautiously took you by your hands and pulled you out of the closet. 

“let me see it.” he gently requested. you huffed as you carefully lifted up the shirt to reveal the bruise. he let out a distressed noise, quickly ridding himself of his gloves before his bare fingers grazed your skin. 

“i’m fine caleb, it’s not even that bad–”

“not that bad?!” he exploded like a volcano that was waiting to erupt. 

“pips, you have a bruise the size of a meteor on your stomach and it’s darkening by the second! what did you even do?” he took the shirt between his fingers, pulling it up even higher to inspect for any more damage. it was then that he realized that you were only in your bra and underwear with just his long sleeve to cover up. he took his moment to take you all in as he effortlessly towered over you. 

hair wet, smelling like apples, in a matching set, in his clothes.. brain go brrrrr….

he didn’t know if it was his chip kicking in or his brain malfunctioning, but thank god you were looking away from him. he felt the blush spread throughout his face, every inkling of scolding you fading by the second

he cleared his throat, gently letting his shirt fall back into place as he gingerly wrapped his hands behind your back, pulling you close. burying his face in the hair, he let the scent of you calm him down. he just hated seeing you hurt, especially if there was a mark or bruise to show for it.

“i’m sorry. i was only trying to impress you for our next flying lesson and then the weather suddenly changed and then the throttle did a thing–and i got launched into the control panel and..” you admitted embarrassingly. he laughed as he pulled away, taking your cheeks into his hands.  

“okay, okay. just next time please be careful. we don’t want you getting a bionic arm or anything–”

“CALEB!”

xavier:

exhaustion was oozing off xavier the moment he stepped into your apartment. his footsteps were dragging, shoulders hunched over, with a severe lack of motivation to keep his eyes open.  it was a series of: lack of sleep, fighting off more wanders than he could even count and then doing that over and over again for the past week. his back and body hurt and all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a week undisturbed. 

he ridded himself of his uniform, begrudgingly forced himself to shower, dried off his hair and plopped so hard on the bed it skirted and hit the wall. as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was already in his rem cycle, letting sleep take him for however long sleep would have him. 

though he was a valiant hunter, he knew that your place was safe. so if he felt a bump or a shift in the bed, he knew it was only you. though he wasn’t expecting you so soon. even with his eyes closed counting sheep, he was able to feel you crawl over his body. your hair tickled his collar bones as you leaned down to shower him in kisses. from his neck, cheeks, forehead, with a final blow to the lips, he didn’t budge. he wanted sleep and so he was going to have it (even if it meant hearing from you later) but you didn’t relent. 

you continued to lay kisses all over him, knowing that he’s done this to you before when you wanted to sleep but he wanted you to get up. you wanted his attention and much like xavier, you were going to have it. you held his face in your hands, laying loud kiss after loud kiss, trying to pull him out of dreamland but to no avail. you huffed as you sat your tush on his stomach. you moved his face from side to side before resorting to squishing his cheeks together. 

there was a slight twitch in his eyebrows signifying to you that he was slowly waking up, which resulted in you poking and prodding his face. after several minutes of working like a cat clocked in at the biscuit making factory, he let out one final groan before his eyes barely opened. 

“there he is.” you said sweetly. he huffed, turning to the side while covering his face to try and avoid your advances. 

“no he is not…” you took that as a challenge, now wrestling with him to lay on his back. when xavier was asleep, he was like a log. with much resistance, he flopped on his back while you pinned his wrists above his head. he peeled his eyes open, ready to let you have it only to find you with your hair all disheveled, the top buttons of your pajama shirt all undone and askew with the faintest wash of pink over your cheeks. 

“i just wanted some kisses and snuggles…” you admitted as you let go of his wrists. a sigh of defeat left his lips.

“well if you say it like that, of course i can’t be mad at you.” a giggle left your lips as he wrapped his arms and legs around you. it was his turn to shower you in kisses which you happily received. when the shower was over, you laid ontop of him with your face buried in his neck. 

“i’m sorry i disturbed your sleep.. you can go back now. i promise i won’t wake you until tomorrow.” he nuzzled his cheek into your head, already mumbling a bunch of nothings into your ear.

“i love you too, honey.” 

sylus:

“i said no.” sylus was being unreasonable. all you wanted to do was join him on an ‘auction’ to help him out. he had been stressed about it all week– skipped meals, jaw clenched in his (lack of) sleep, dark bags under his eyes– you haven’t seen him this stressed in a while. 

“why not? you know that it would be easier with me there and i want to go, so why no–” he held up his hand to you, too focused on the papers in front of him to even look you in the eye. 

“my decision is final. it’s too dangerous, i wouldn’t even go if it wasn’t a necessity.” you knew that he was only looking out for your safety, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. if he wasn’t going to willingly take you, guess it was time to take matters into your own hands. you didn’t utter another word, choosing to leave his office in silent rage. 

once he knew you were out of sight, he heaved a deep sigh. he could feel the pounding headache coming on. removing his glasses, he leaned back onto his chair while squeezing the bridge of his nose. he was already trying to think of ways to make it up to you, though this one would be tough. 

—

it was a few quiet days in the N109 zone. you decided to keep your interactions with sylus to a minimum, only greeting him the times he came to bed or when he came to dinner. he chose to respect that distance, trying to make the most out of the times you did give him the time of day. he couldn’t wait to get this mission over and done with. 

then came the day of his departure. you weren’t petty enough to not send him off, especially on dangerous missions such as this one. the last thing that you always handed off was his leather jacket. you had done it the first few missions he went on, and from there it kinda stuck. send offs never felt right without it. as he loaded the last suitcase, you stood behind him with his coat. 

he leaned in and gave your forehead a kiss. 

“i’ll be back soon, kitten.” he mumbled the words into your temple. you offered him a soft smile before holding up his jacket. he swiftly dropped his arms into the sleeves, pulling it over his shoulders, now counting down the minutes until he could be back. 

“i love you, get back safe.” you waved off him and the twins as you watched the car went off into the distance.

“you won’t have to wait long, dear.” 

—

shit. 

this was bad. 

sylus knew it was going to be, but he hoped just a little that it wouldn’t be. removed the hand from his abdomen to check if the bleeding had stopped, but surely enough his hand was covered in his crimson red blood. he leaned against a wall, knowing that the twins wouldn’t be here another 30 minutes. he knew his regenerative powers could kick in soon, but he was sorely outnumbered. he heard footsteps behind him and what sounded like a “he’s in here!” and just as he was about to set his guns ablaze, he heard a few shots coming from that same hallway. he squinted his eyes as he concentrated on the commotion.

‘one… two…..three.. four down. who?? they’re not supposed to be there for ano–’ the door swung open and upon instinct, sylus swiftly held up his gun to the intruder ready to shoot. he never hesitated in his life, but something was telling him to do otherwise. his fierce eyes met your intense ones in the same position. you both retracted your weapons before sylus pulled you through the doorway, crashing your back against his chest.

“how many are left?” he leaned down and whispered. 

“ten. five in the front and five in the back. the twins should be able to handle them. i took out all the ones in here for now.” for a second he breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning against you. sylus would’ve made it out, but certainly not in the best of conditions. 

“why are you here?” 

“i think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’” he rolled his eyes, turning you around to take you in. stunning, as always. your hair was a bit disheveled, straps fallen down to your shoulders and your dress was torn around the edges, but in this moonlight he was utterly captivated by you. all his anger and many of the words that he had for you suddenly flew out the window. he tugged your straps gently back up to your shoulders before giving you a kiss. 

“i’ll deal with you when we get back.” you basked in his presence for mere seconds before smelling the copper in the air. you stepped back to examine him before your eyes landed on his hand. he showed no resistance showing you his wound, knowing that you were right and he was caught. a heavy sigh left your lips. you knew he would be back to himself in no time, but it reminded you that he wasn’t all that invisible. 

“still think you don’t need me?” sylus chuckled as his face made its way into the crook of your neck, arms snaking around your waist. he took in one long inhale. 

“... you changed your perfume.. that’s why i couldn’t tell you were here.” you laughed breathlessly into ear, but not before you heard more footsteps coming in from the hallway. you both tensed, trying to remain as silent as possible. he tapped two of his fingers on your left side signalling that’s where he was headed. but before you could move, he noticed a shadow coming from the window. he pulled you down, letting off a few rounds towards the window. it was seconds before all hell broke loose once again. 

luckily you both were able to fend off the second wave until the twins got there. when it was all said and done, you two were able to make it out with a few bumps and bruises, you’ve definitely done worse. the car ride back was silent as you were taping up sylus’ arm. you knew he was angry at you, now having to be in pain because you didn’t listen to him.

“i don’t regret coming.” he wiped off some dried blood from your cheek, now his turn to tape up your wounds. 

“i know you don’t.” the conversation settled back into a comfortable silence. he started by dabbing some ointment on your scratches.

“... and thank you.. for saving my ass back there.” 

[cosmictheo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | kang dae-ho

—summary: a sudden closeness of you and player 333 makes dae-ho's usually sweet mood swing in the opposite way, triggered by pure jealousy. why would you ever need anyone else when you've got him right there? —pairing: kang dae-ho/player 388 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —contains: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, really passionate sex, voyeurism, public sex, sub dae-ho!!! (canon), slight praise kink if you squint, he talks to you through it, jealous and possessive behavior, fluff, dae-ho being so in love with the reader.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

Kang Dae-ho had been protecting you ever since he had helped you survive Green Light, Red Light, the first game of all this hell in disguise as a promising new opportunity.

Not knowing you from absolutely nothing, he stepped right in front of you, stretching a hand out to the back to hold yours and guide you across the arena, playing human shield until together, you had crossed the finish line. 

And that basically summed up the kind of person Dae-ho is; kind-hearted, courageous, selfless, caring. He was one of the best people you had ever met and he was making this whole calvary into something much better, something brighter, something to keep fighting for until you made it out of there.

Since that, he had stuck by your side, practically standing as your own shadow, constantly putting you first, looking out for your well-being and safety. Without him, you would probably be dead by now, devoid of purpose.

The other players had already gotten used to seeing the two of you together, always watching each other's backs and fooling around and strategizing. Through thick and thin, you were together.

It was only a matter of time —hours—; before something else began to spark between the two of you, growing every time your hands brushed, or when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders or when your bodies cocooned in each other's warmth at night when you slept. A tension was just starting to build, an emotion that for some reason, would always make Dae-ho nervous and flustered, whenever you'd smile at him or clasp his bicep to be by his side every time Gi-hun related a story from his past experience at the games, or when you'd lean your head on his shoulder or when you'd hug each other every time a game ended.

Whatever it was, out of the same feeling, Dae-ho sensed a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, feeling as if his guts were constricting like a viper, every time you chatted with the 333 player.

He looks at you from the distance, frowning slightly as you laugh at something the guy says, he doesn't even know why he dislikes him so much... he just does.

“Why are you all puckered up?” Jung-bae questions him, pausing his own story to express concern for his teammate's face, following his gaze until he finds you, naturally.

Dae-ho clicks his tongue, shaking his head gently, his tone of voice fluctuating between disbelief and annoyance, "Why is she even over there? It's dangerous"

“Dangerous? Buddy, she's just talking to him. He saved her in the last game, remember?” Jung-bae answers him, confused by the uncharacteristic grumpy attitude of the younger man, used to the sight of him being so cheerful and jovial and optimistic.

“If it weren't for him, she wouldn't be here,” Young-il adds, also glancing at how you whisper with player 333, “She's just being polite.”

But Dae-ho huffs humorlessly, forcing his eyes to drag from you to Jung-bae standing in front of him, his fingers still grasping his fork tightly, not really feeling like eating lunch today, “Bullshit, I would've saved her anyway. She didn't need him.”

Gi-hun rolls his eyes, sitting by his side as he quietly observes the whole scene, chewing a mouthful of rice, “You're just jealous, man, admit it,” he pronounces with his mouth half full, eyes attentively scanning Dae-ho's reaction.

The whole group of men laugh upon seeing Dae-ho's face morph to one of embarrassment and some offense, cheeks blushing furiously at Gi-hun's fake allegation.

“I'm n-not jealous” he tries to defend himself with a stuttering voice, looking frantically around the amused faces of the men around him, his fingers letting his fork drop by his twitching and nervous state, attracting the attention of a few players who were nearby, including yours, which only makes Dae-ho to blush even redder.

Jung-bae smiles playfully, picking up the fork that had fallen to the ground, “And you're being overdramatic.”

“I am not!” Dae-ho squeals, his brow furrowing as he stands up and yanks the fork out of Jung-bae's hand. As the whole group laughs at him, his eyes again search for you in the crowd, finding you in record time, and his whole face darkens again as he notices the way your hand is resting down the player 333's forearm, like you would usually do with him.

He sighs heavily and for the first time, he seriously considers the words of the older men.

Time passes unnoticed within that place, hours perhaps, days? No one really knows.

But the warning that the lights go out in thirty minutes usually means that you should lie down and rest for the next event that the monsters who created this have planned for you all.

The first thing you notice when you arrive at the bed you share with Dae-ho, is that he is lying on his side with his back to you, which concerns you a little, since he never had his back to you when he would sleep.

Something is off.

“Dae-ho?” you call out his name in a gentle whisper, sitting down on the bunk and looking across the broadness of his back with worried eyes, “Are you okay?”

No response.

“Hey,” you try again gently, thinking that maybe he's not exactly having a good day, considering the current situation you're stuck in.

Dae-ho is feeling his chest heaving as he senses your hand laying on his shoulder, fingers delicately squeezing his flesh beneath the tracksuit jacket. 

And suddenly, he's cracking up.

“I'm trying to sleep” and yet, he replies to you curtly, without showing even the slightest sign of rolling over and wanting to actually look at you.

You admire his back with unconvinced eyes for a moment, lying down on the bed and resting your head on the pillow, your hand moving from his shoulder, down his back, across his shoulder blades, before dropping to the surface of the bed.

“You sound off.”

Dae-ho considers his options; whether to just keep talking to you in that oh-so-ungentlemanly way —which made him physically cringe—; whether to express everything he was feeling or just stay quiet and pretend to sleep.

In any case, he acts on impulse, rolling over so he can finally look at you, his eyes softening the instant they meet yours, his heart beating hard and fast, pounding in his ears.

“It's not good for you to associate with players outside our group,” he suddenly blurts out and sees how you just stare at him with further confusion washing over your pretty face, “It could be dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” you inquire, silently urging him to elaborate on his point. You are quick to notice how deadly serious his face is, his lips lightly pursed and his eyes solemn, a look that is unusual on him. You don't like to see him like that, like everyone there usually acted.

“Player 333,” he replies, jaw clenched, his eyes following you as you sat up again on the bed, looking down at him in sheer confusion, as if somehow, you aren't recognizing him, “I saw the way he was looking at you.”

He sounds... hurt? Disappointed?

“Lee Myung-gi” your face turns enlightened, finally understanding what he's referring to now.

Dae-ho deflects his gaze away from yours, slightly rolling his eyes. Whatever that idiot's name was...

“I was just talking to him. He saved me in the last game, Dae-ho,” you explain in an overly naive tone, a little smile curving the corner of your lips, “I went to thank him”

“But I am the one doing that, that's why I'm here. You didn't need him, you have me,” he retorts back to you instantly, your name being pronounced by his lips like a plea for mercy, gesturing to himself with his hand for emphasis on his words. Your brow furrows at the same time as his, your lips turning into a small pout, feeling like a scolded child, “I was going to save you anyway! You only need me, no one else...”

His voice fades the more he speaks, shaky hand brushing through his loose hair. And now you notice it, the betrayed and hurt expression on his face, his eyes hiding something more than friendliness, something much deeper and bigger.

He is jealous.

“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?” you are questioning him, getting more comfortable on the mattress, your voice keeping low so as not to wake the others, but also firm on your side of the little argument. You had done nothing wrong, “He was just being a good companion—”

“He didn't seem to be performing the good companion role,” Dae-ho interrupts you, spitting out the words as if they were venomous, rising himself up to also sit on the bed and face you, gesticulating with his hands, his tone of voice is fueled by sarcasm and subtle irony now, “I didn't like the way he was looking at you... neither how you were touching him with your hand.”

He crosses his arms and resembles a sulky kid who's had his favorite toy taken away, but you're too pissed off to pause and laugh at him.

Instead, you roll your eyes, starting to unbutton your jacket, feeling too hot all of a sudden, Dae-ho's eyes follow your fingers as they pull down the zipper, “You're being overdramatic.”

"I'm not!" he gasps-whispers, expression offended, he genuinely does seem to be feeling betrayed by what you had done. He leans close to you, so close that you feel the natural warmth of his body, but you stand your ground, looking at him with baffled eyes, his gaze remains soft yet aching, “I'm just looking out for you.”

“You'd rather I touch your arm then?” you raise an eyebrow on your forehead, dropping the jacket by the bottom of the bed, holding his gaze, “Is that what this is all about?”

The effect of your words in instantaneous on Dae-ho, blushing and causing him to pull away from you rather abruptly, brushing his hand through his hair again like a maniac.

“Yes,” he replies with certainty, the word barging into his throat before he could even think of a reasonable response, so he shakes his head slightly, “I mean no— I mean yes—” he cuts himself off, flustered by your attentive gaze, “—that's not the point! The point is that you don't need to go to anyone else when you have me right here.”

He gulps hard, eagerly waiting for your reaction through desperate, sheepish eyes.

“I know,” you whisper, letting out a soft sigh from your mouth, switching to a more empathetic postur. Then you nod your head and stretch out a hand towards him, who wastes no second in reaching out to take it and pull it close to his chest, nuzzling your knuckles with his thumb, “But he just dragged me with him, I couldn't do much,” you offer him a small apologetic smile, “I know you would have saved me anyway, Dae-ho.”

“Of course,” he murmurs your name, bringing your hand to his mouth to press his lips onto your knucles, kissing your smooth skin, “You're not alone, you're with me. You are everything...”

Without saying anything, you move closer to him and hug him. Dae-ho is more than happy to reciprocate your embrace, wrapping his beefy arms around your waist and hiding his face in your neck, breathing in your sweet and comforting scent, the scent he so adores. You feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck and a shiver runs through you from head to toe.

One of your hands goes up to his head, caressing his hair, fingers sinking into his dark long locks, the soothing and so intimate touch making him sigh.

“You're jealous,” you murmur after a moment of comfortable, heart-warming silence, and he stiffens, his body freezing, you can feel the way his muscles tense against yours.

Dae-ho pulls away from you just a little, far enough to be able to look at you, offering you a sheepish little smile, his cheeks blushing from all the attention and touch and closeness, the way you're talking and looking at him has him breathless.

“Maybe a little,” his expression shifts to one of shame as he dares to confess, valiantly enough to hold your gaze, letting himself fall into the gentleness of your eyes, always so lively and playful, but as beautiful and sparkling as a pair of gemstones, with your long lashes brushing your cheekbones every time you blink.

His hands gently squeeze your waist, contouring your curves and fitting into them perfectly, as if crafted for him to touch and hold.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweets,” you assure him, like a promise, a complicity, leaning into him again.

Dae-ho swallows loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels your beautiful soft lips press down onto his throat, kissing his bouncing Adam's apple. He can feel himself in heaven, letting himself be swept up by the way you are treating him, the way your hands run down his body, passing down his chest until they stop at his midsection, just at the moment your tongue traces across his skin, making him hiss, feeling all the air being knocked out of his lungs.

“Fuck— ngh,” he whimpers, his whole body aching with heat, his heart pumping hot blood into his crotch, heartbeats matching up with each of your wet kisses on his neck.

His big hands wander over your waist, lightly caressing your lower back, fingers barely grazing the curve of your ass above the fabric of your tracksuit pants, clasping the flesh, pressing you helplessly against his body. His touch is needy, but nonetheless respectful, as gentlemanly as ever.

“Is this okay?” comically enough he's the one to ask as your mouth reaches his chin by a wet trail of soft kisses through his skin and he almost feels himself cumming into his boxers by the way you open your eyes to look up at him, pupils dilated in pleasure.

You sigh out a soft chuckle and your breath crashes against his half-open lips, needily breathing in your air, breathing you in. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of his jacket.

“You want this?”

It's stupid that you even had the mere thought of that question.

“Yes, please, baby— please,” Dae-ho rushes to answer, hands squeezing everything they could grab from you, desperately, “Can I kiss yo—”

Before he managed to formulate the question your lips are on his and from one second to the next he pulls you close to sit on his lap, making you feel his erection press against the underside of your thigh.

Frantically, between kisses, tongues recognizing each other and hands grasping what they can of the other, he helps you to remove his shirt, breaking away for just a moment to pull it over his head, looking at you with eyes darkened with desire.

He groans against your mouth as you kiss again, your teeth nibbling gently on his bottom lip.

“Shh...” you coo against his lips, pushing him down to make his back lay against the bed, “You don't want the others to hear, do you?”

A playful smile stretches at the corner of his lips, squeezing your butt once you leaned over him to begin kissing his chest, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling the way your back arches.

“I wouldn't mind if 333 listens—”

“Dae-ho,” you name him disapprovingly, but your eyes are heavy with playfulness and longing.

He gazes adoringly up as you take off your shirt, eyes roaming down your neck, across your chest, down your stomach.

“You're so pretty, fuck— come here,” he tugs you closer to him to kiss you one more time, his hands detaching from your hips to lift his own, pulling down his pants and his now, wrecked boxers, clumsily sliding the waistband of the cloth down his thighs.

His dick springs free and it has you open-mouthed, staring down at it with eyes of raw longing and adoration. His mushroom-shaped, leaking, needy head bumps barely against his lower abdomen, lining up with his happy trail.

Dae-ho blushes under your gaze, one of his hands caresses your hip to attract your attention back to his face.

“Can you handle it, baby?” his tone of voice lowers sheepishly.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing from his words only and in less than ten seconds, you're stripping off your pants too, pulling your soaking wet panties aside. He can actually feel how wet you are when your pussy barely brushes against his bare crotch, he has to resist to keep from cumming right there.

“I can— fuck, yeah— I can handle it,” you babble tremblingly through gentle gasps as he reaches his cock, stroking it three times before he aligns it with your inviting hole, rubbing it slowly up and down your slit to scoop up all of your wetness, and use it as a natural lube.

Dae-ho bites down on his lower lip to muffle a moan that ascends his throat, feeling the head of his cock push up into the tight entrance of your pussy, plunging between your slick folds.

He leans his forehead flat against your chest, nestling right between your breasts, his whole body trembling from a riot of pleasure, muffling his moans and noises against your skin.

“Shit, y-you're— h-hah— you're so wet,” he raspes out into your bare skin, his lips slurring insults and name-calling you like a prayer, a poem through your sweaty skin, his tongue rolls out from between his parted lips, coating your skin with his drool. 

His hands are roaming over your hips, each digit digging into the fat of your ass, never applying weight, giving you all the time you needed to settle onto his size, yet his voice was desperate and eager with anticipation, “So tight— so pretty.”

Your lips are pressed against the crown of his head, breathing shakily as you begin to lower yourself into him achingly slow, drawing a gasp from both of you. Your palms squeeze his broad shoulders, suppressing the urge to cry out with every inch he is pushing his way inside you, your pussy fluttering and squishing him deeper.

“Yeah, just like that, that's it,” Dae-ho is praising you, pressing sloppy kisses all over your tits, fingers caressing your lower back while his other hand pats your ass appraisingly, “just a little more, baby, a little m-more and I'm all yours— I'm yours.”

His words really touch your very core, hand sliding up his neck to sink into his hair and pull it, making him hiss as he licks your nipple. Your pussy swallows another inch of him and you feel him in your fucking guts by now. He feels your squishy walls clench around him like a vice and he refuses to even think about the possibility of a life without feeling like this again.

“Dae-ho,” you whimper his name as the bulging tip of his cock reaches a particular spongy spot and instantly your whole body reacts as well.

“Mh-hm,” his lips lick and kiss your collarbone all the way up your neck and then he kisses your lips, “I'm here. I got you, I always got you,” his eyes finally lock with yours again and you nearly feel every single muscle and organ in your abdomen twitch when you notice tears being held back in them, all from the flood of pleasure and bliss your body is giving him.

He can feel himself in heaven, beneath you, his hips grinding up into yours as his cock is plunged so deep inside you.

Dae-ho kisses you again, intoxicated, a thread of spit remains connecting your mouths once you part.

A few more long seconds and you're all the way down sitting on him, his heavy, throbbing balls pressed flush against your ass. Your pussy envelops him thoroughly, molding into his shape as you breathe a deep sigh and Dae-ho breathes out as well when your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

“There you are, my baby, you're doing s-so good,” he croaks, fondling your backside affectionately, feeling your dampness dripping down his thighs, “Holy shit you feel good... I'm so deep—”

And when you start to move on top of him, he has to close his eyes, his sweaty palms pawing your ass, hopeless for your mercy. 

But you have no mercy, your pussy, your thighs, your fucking hips, the way you look down at him and ride him, giving him whiplash with every bounce. And he can swear he knows you from another life, from the way his cock forms a shape inside you, reaching parts within you that no one else has been capable of reaching before, as if your body was made for him— no, as if he was made to fit your body.

“My God—” he hiccups and you press your forehead against his, seeking his lips with yours to silence you both, pushing him down until he's lying flat on the mattress.

The bunk just barely creaks beneath the relentless sway of your hips slamming into his, ass bumping hard down on his thighs, taking him all the way down and up again, so deep that every time you bottom out you feel him in your fucking throat.

“You feel so good, baby,” you whine, looking down at him and all of his body is reacting to the petname.

You take in the gorgeous sight that is his face flushed with utter pleasure, eyes squinting, sweaty arms wrapping all around you and holding you impossibly close, his lower belly tensed and cramped.

He looks so pussy drunk, drinking and drinking in your body and essence, everything you provide. The tought makes you feel your insides flip, squeezing into a knot. And Dae-ho feels it too.

You bend down, lips falling onto his shoulder, trailing down to the tattoo on his side and when your tongue traces the black ink, exactly when his engorged tip brushes against your fucking cervix and your ass does a particularly powerful bounce on his thick thighs, he starts to feel his body twitching, reaching that exquisite release. He begins to cum, wracked by a rush of erotic bliss that has him seeing stars in the pitch-black.

His hips begin to meet yours in mid-between your wild bouncing and your pussy squelches around his cock, ready to take in all he has to give.

“I'm cumming— hah— b-baby, where—” he babbles through breathy hiccups and whimpers, his body is flushing, seeking your gaze with half-closed eyes, his chest gasping fast.

You kiss his tattoo one more time before answering him, having the nerve to smirk, as if you aren't jumping his bones, “Inside— mhm— fill me up, Dae-ho,” your eyes finally meet his and you squish his biceps, “please,” you beg him, with tears on your eyes.

“Holy shit— you don't have to convince me, love” he growls out hoarsely, and you have never hear him insult so much in such a short span of time. He kiss the corner of your lips messily, “I'm so fucking deep, you take it so well, baby— fuck.”

He chokes on his own voice and squeezes your hips until his palms are molded into your flesh. His tip touches that special squishy spot inside you again and you're cumming with him, both of you riding your own high, sinking into each other's bodies, souls becoming one. Straight into the core of the storm of pleasure.

His trembling fingers eventually loosen his grip on your ass, but his imprint stays right there, flushed. His cock softens deep inside you and you can feel it still spurting hot ropes up into your womb. Dae-ho whimpers flush against your mouth, gasping for breath. And you know you might as well die right there, tangled with his body.

Your head is empty, blurry with him and only him, your hips keep rolling on their own motion, slower. Your pussy squelches, full of him, the friction only makes him chant your name over and over in raspy whispers, like a hymn. Your orgasm is rough and strong, rocking your body like an earthquake. It makes you moan his name and he cuts you off, kissing you senselessly.

“Thank you, thank you...” he mumbles repeatedly against your mouth, hissing once you stop all movement on top of him. And he kisses you again, appreciatively, lovingly.

Dae-ho throws his head back on the bunk, trying to catch his breath, his hands drop to your thighs, always with a possessive hold, groping around for your ass, pressed down on his trembling thighs.

And it's ridiculous how absolutely majestic he looks there under you, in an afterglow that has him breathless, eyes narrowed and lost stare, gazing upwards as if he's suspended in paradise. His entire abdomen is sweaty and you hold back the urge to run your tongue across his cute little tummy, since your body is slowly beginning to give in to exhaustion, your legs wobbling.

You are satisfied with tracing your fingers along his sweaty skin, touching what were strong muscles, now softened under your thumbprints. Your hand makes an appreciative path up his pecs and he comes back to reality with the touch, looking up at you and patting your ass lightly, his gaze softening as he met your eyes amidst the darkness. The look of love.

“Don't do that, I'm about to get hard again,” he murmurs in a playful voice, a little sheepish smile growing on his lips. He is blushing, like he's not balls deep inside you, his cum leaking out of your cunt and trickling down your thighs.

You let out a sleepy chuckle, leaning down and snuggling close into his chest, his arms wrap around your shoulders and he tugs a blanket over the two of you.

“I had to take you on a date first,” Dae-ho blurts out suddenly, sounding more like he's talking to himself than to you, but you do manage to hear him, yet not really understanding what he's trying to say.

“What?” you ask curiously, still a little dizzy, fingers tracing light caresses on his chest, right where his heart is.

He clears his voice, bowing his chin so he can look down at you, gaze full pure love and adoration, his fingertips soothingly caressing your spine as he answers you in a hushed whisper, “I was supposed to take you on a date before.... all of this.”

You smile bashfully against his chest, looking up at him with big, soft eyes, “Well, we're not exactly in a position where having a date is doable, Dae-ho.”

But he is confident on the subject, fingers drawing little circles on the small of your back, “After we get out of this, I'll pick you up at your house and take you to the fanciest restaurant.”

You kiss him tenderly. 

And he smiles like he's actually in love.

“I'll be waiting for you in my best dress, then.”

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Watching Nanami put on his suit was mesmerizing but what was even better was when he would take it off.

He always stood in front of his bedroom mirror, and like a routine would start with his watch. Thick fingers running over the rim of the clock, down to the clasp. Placing it neatly on his shelf, along with the others in his collection.

He lets his suit jacket slowly fall off his broad shoulders, finally looking back at you, catching you staring. You always sat on the bed, looking all pretty for him. Your pupils expand at the handsome sight before you causing a chuckle to escape his thin lips as he decides to give you a show. He reaches back to unclasp his brown harness that carries his dull blade, your jaw and the harness both dropping in unison.

His eyes gleam with amusement as he continues, he slowly unbuttons the cuffs of his blue dress shirt, exposing the veins that run from his hands up to his muscular arms. Nanami could almost swear he sees your eyes turn heart-shaped as begins unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his toned and muscular torso.

He shrugs it to the floor, his hands leading down to his belt. Your attention falling upon his hard-on. Oh how Nanami was enjoying this and he knows for a fact you are too. The sexual tension builds up steadily, as he notices you clench your thighs together at the mere sight of his half naked body.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles the expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. He drops it to the floor again, joining his other articles of clothing, and takes a step closer to you, his erection standing proudly between you.

He takes your hand, pressing a chaste to it as he wraps his hand around your wrist. Starting at his chest, he guides your hand down his abs, stopping just right before his dress pants.

“Why don't you help me with the rest, honey?”

[myespresso]

attractive things they do while you're dating

pairing: batboys (plus clark lol) & reader ❀ׄ ꥈ

𓍢ִ໋☕ cassidy's note: for funsies. not edited. i love reading variations of these. i haven't written since 2020. if you can like this, reblog too.

bruce 🦇ᡣ𐭩˚.

navigating paparazzi: the careful way he guides you to block the flaring flashes from cameras with his broad shoulders.

bruce wraps his fingers to pull on your waist, tugging you further behind him, ensuring no shots of you are taken on what was meant to be a private night out.

despite the urgency of the situation--his face still stays controlled and imperturbable, but his grip is firm to reassure you, as he leans down and mumbles in your ear, "just a bit farther, the car's close," before his voice cuts through the cries and shutters lowly: "we're done here."

listens intently, and remembers every single detail about you, despite whether you think it's significant or not for him to know.

bruce stores your favorite shampoo and conditioner in his bathroom when you stay the night over.

and when you're sitting on the edge of his sink, removing his makeup from under his eyes, you notice it sitting amongst his own body-wash and pine scented soap.

but when you ask him about it, he simply shrugs and waves it off.

dick 🏙ɞ♥️*

teaches you self defense: his hands gently curl over yours to demonstrate how they should look before you throw a punch.

his touch is light, "keep your thumb on the outside", dick's finger taps the inside of your palm, "if you keep it inside, you'll break it--not fun."

he whistles when you hit him solidly in the side with a wide grin, despite the force of your blow, "better."

insists on helping you put on all your jewellery and shoes.

he turns you around, and pulls your hair to one side of your neck, before fiddling with the clasp. he's clumsy at first, but eventually gets the hang of it the more he does it. his hands linger on the slope of your neck for a moment longer than necessary.

later, as you reach for your shoes, he beats you to it, kneeling in front of you. dick's motions are all exaggerated as he does it.

your hand cards through his hair when he's looking up through his lashes after he's fastened the straps, and kissing the inside of your calf slowly.

jason ❤️‍🩹⋆｡

reads on public transportation: jason pulls out a beat up paperback he picked up from a secondhand bookstore from his back pocket. it has dog eared pages and a weathered spine.

there's a baby crying on the train, but he doesn't seem to notice as he flicks a ringed finger to the page he last read.

he pulls a pencil from his jacket pocket, and traces a line in a passage--a part he thinks you'd like. when he leans forward, his shirt rides up a bit so a strip of his skin is visible to you.

doesn't wipe your lipgloss from his cheek.

the shimmer from it stains his cheek after you pressed a kiss to it. you go to wipe it with a laugh, reaching with your thumb, and jason catches it mid-air. "you've got glitter on your face jay, people are gonna-"

"next time, wear red."

tim 🪽❥˚

gnaws at his lip as he concentrates.

the hum of the keys click in the batcave and papers rustle. tim's focus is sharp as he attempts piecing together his newest case, and his teeth catch in his bottom lip. an unconscious habit.

you can't help but tease him about it, "that's a terrible habit to have, you know that?" you lean against his desk."it helps me think."

sure enough, he does it again. "you're gonna chew your lip off your face one day." his lips curve upwards at your observation, but your gaze was now intense as you observed his lip in his teeth, and before you can state another snarky remark, he shoots you a knowing look before pulling your belt loops, and kissing you.

wears your hair tie on his wrist. it was never really ever a big deal. one day you handed it to him while getting ready for bed one night as you pulled out your ponytail and he snapped it onto his wrist without much thought. now, it's routine. it doesn't matter where he is exactly, if tim's at a gala or in a meeting or out in gotham on patrol, the hair tie is around his wrist.

you heard him cursing from the other room when he misplaced it once.

clark 🌟.*☆

saves you a seat, always: whether it's evenings in or out, clark always makes you feel like you're the most important person there.

it's not something that's said but understood, as he pulls the chair next to him, letting it be out long enough for you to get comfortable, before gently scooting it inwards.

when you eat, and when he thinks you're not looking--clark will adjust your plate, and glace over at your water glass to make sure it is filled. and if you want extra bread, don't even worry because he kept an extra piece on his plate for you.

pushing his glasses up. there's something kinda charming about the way he does it that you wish you could explain it better. it's absentminded, he does it a lot!

when he's looking over articles or reading or just talking to you. in the elevator, he'll lean forward to look over the numbered floors, and they won't stay in place, sliding down the bridge of his nose. you don't say anything, but smile slightly, and he'll return it goofily and with more teeth, before he asks, "what?"

tags: @retvenkos

[dmitriene]

all simon riley wants for christmas is you, tied up in a pretty bow, waiting for him all dolled up, your clothes are barely there, some skimpy thing that can be peeled, ripped away like a gift wrapping layer, to make it all easier, since you were waiting for this moment from the very start of the week, knowing that he should come home especially for holidays, and sure, there's a place for a present.

you asked him to stop at the grocery store to have time to prepare, and he agreed, the list was short and strained, a couple of drinks and snacks that you forgot for a perfect christmas dinner, everything so that you had time to hide next to the lush tree and turn off the light before simon arrived back, keys jiggling right outside the door, reverberating through the narrow hallway, as you still your breath.

simon was excited before, to finally return home, to celebrate the new year in a soothing, cozy atmosphere, with someone close, without loneliness, without disgust for this holiday, he did not even think about whether you prepared him a gift, because he did not give any hints, but opening the front door, and stretching out his hand with a bag of groceries towards the light switch, he lights up the living room, and you're right there.

with red, silky ribbon wrapped tight all around your curved body, digging in the supple skin, where it's ties in a neat bow right in front of you, your hands clasped behind, wrists looking at each other, hold together, and you can't really move, except fidgeting in place, a small, welcoming smile to your lips, as you watch the way simon's hands twitch, curling with whitening fingers, eyes fluttering from wide open to lidded heavily, and suddenly, the bags, and the dinner, are forgotten.

it's time to indulge in the gift you prepared to him, and simon wouldn't be able to stay away and wait for later, perhaps, he'd splay you out on the unfinished dining table for now, still not set for the dinner, except for the tablecloth, that will gladly soak all the slick that gushes out of your cunt, while he breaches a finger inside your soppy hole, walls pulsing, rippling at the intrusion, and you hiccup for more instantly, legs twitching, spread open by the ribbon.

your christmas would be all the night long, with your body sinking into the sagging mattress, cold, smooth skin work as a reprieve to your searing, scalding skin, warmed up by the spread warmth, burning up from between your limp thighs, as simon's hips snap forward, a steady roll, his cock long and thick enough to plunge against your spongy spot repeatedly, making you writhe and keen his name, a sweet, hiccuped melody.

simon holds you close, snuggled tight against his solid chest as his body juts forward with each thrust, broad hands sinking into the plushness of your body, tugging, holding tight and possessive, and you can only hide your blissed face in the juncture of his neck and stretched out shoulder, sobbing, breathing in the rough, rich smell of him, nails scrabbling across his back, wrists untied to let you touch him, while he enjoys his precious christmas gift, panting gritted praises.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PARK KID ASKING IF YOU AND ROOMMATE TOJI ARE MARRIED

It was a bright, quiet Saturday afternoon when you and Toji decided to take a break from the usual routine and go to the park to get some fresh air. The sun was high up in the sky, the air warm and crisp with the promise of spring. You both hadn’t had much time to spend outside together as roommates so the decision to take a stroll and enjoy the fresh air felt like a good welcoming change.

Toji, as usual had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, his casual stride effortless and laid-back. You walked beside him, your hands swinging at your sides, a slight smile on your face as you took in the peaceful and refreshing atmosphere.

The park was lively— families picnicking, little kids running around, and the occasional dog chasing after a ball. It was a serene scene, and for once, it felt nice to just exist in the simplicity of it all.

As you walked, you and Toji talked about little things— nothing in particular, just the kind of chatter that happens when you’re not focused on anything in particular. You found a small bench near a fountain and after sitting down, you both just relaxed, enjoying the scenery.

A few moments passed in comfortable silence and that’s when you heard a small, high-pitched voice break through the calm.

“Are you guys married?”, The voice came from a little boy, no older than six or seven, standing in front of the bench. His wide eyes were filled with curiosity as he gazed up at both you and Toji, his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for an answer.

Toji glanced down at the boy, his eyebrow quirking up slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned back on the bench. You could feel your face flush at the sudden question, a little caught off guard by how direct the kid was being.

“I— uh no, we’re not married,” you said, a laugh escaping your lips as you tried to figure out how to explain the situation. You caught Toji’s eyes and he gave you a small, teasing smirk.

The kid wasn’t finished though. His gaze shifted to Toji, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to assess him then his voice came out with a completely innocent tone. “Isn’t he a bit too old for you, miss?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. You froze for a split second, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment but then you caught Toji’s amused expression. He wasn’t fazed by the question at all— if anything, it seemed to amuse him more than anything else.

“Well kid, life doesn’t always follow the rules,” Toji said with a chuckle, his voice calm and casual as he leaned forward slightly. “What’s important is that we get along, right?” He shot you a sideways glance, a playful glint in his eye. “And I’d say we get along pretty damn well”.

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing nervously, but the kid didn’t seem to notice your mild discomfort. He was already looking up at Toji with an almost serious expression then back at you.

“You’re lucky,” the kid said, his tone thoughtful. “He’s big and strong! Like a superhero”.

You let out a small laugh, trying to recover from the awkward moment. Toji grinned, clearly enjoying the kid’s unabashed honesty.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Toji said, his smirk widening as he looked down at the kid. “But not all heroes wear capes, kid. Some of us just keep things simple, ya know?"

The kid nodded seriously as if everything Toji said made perfect sense. Then without another word, he turned and ran off, his little feet thudding softly against the pavement as he rejoined his group of friends playing nearby.

You let out a sigh of relief, smiling at how the situation had unfolded. Toji on the other hand, leaned back into the bench, looking completely unbothered.

“Not every day I get called a superhero,” Toji mused, glancing at you with a raised brow. “You think he’s got a point?”

You rolled your eyes again, though a smile tugged at your lips. “You wish, huh?”

He just grinned, the teasing energy still very much present but there was something else in his eyes too— something softer, something that made the situation feel… oddly comforting.

“Well, I like the sound of it. I guess I do my best to keep you safe,” Toji said, leaning his shoulder against yours and giving it a playful nudge. “How about it, kid? You want me to be your superhero?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous and sweet the moment had turned out to be. “Yeah, yeah, you’re my superhero,” you said, shaking your head fondly at him.

Toji’s grin softened as he glanced at you. “Well, that’s good enough for me,” Toji said with a small smile, letting out a contented sigh as he leaned back again, the comfortable atmosphere of the park settling back around you both.

[jiminrings]

mature

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.

[ push n pull fic YIPPPEEEEE, fluff, angst, So Much Yearning, friends to lovers trope, jealousy, dunking on a stewpid jk (as one does), arguments that kinda hit home, redemption!! ]

notes: WE R SO BACK!!!! thank u for waiting 🫂🤍

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

You will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want to be loved.

In your defense (much to Jungkook’s offence), you want to be loved as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. He’s not pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but rather pathetic in the light that you want the entirety of him (stubbornness and occasional dimness included) to rub off on you.

You want to be loved pathetically in the same way that Jungkook never computes his expenses when it comes to self-indulgence yet always calculates when it comes to actual requirements. You want to be loved as wholly by the guy who can get by one DIY dorm dinner at a time by asking for scraps from the whole floor with a grin and his hands cupped in begging.

Jungkook’s one of your friends, if not the best you’ve ever had, and it’s a miracle that you haven’t jumped at each and every available chance to confess your growing feelings for him.

You bit your tongue that one time he bought you "one of those silly blind boxes you like" on a whim from a bookstore he only went inside to in the first place because he was dying outside in the heat, only to open it for you with your eyes closed and earn you an extra rare figure.

You had to physically restrain yourself (read: clasp your hands together in front of you) when Jungkook made you swap your counterfeit, barely-holding-on kitten heels for his trustworthy slides on the way home because your research presentation prior had you pacing nervously.

Every time that he gives you your tax of whatever he ordered (which always ends up being the best variant that your friend group could possibly order for a meal or a sweet treat), you have to etch into your head clearly, with ballpoint pen, that you will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want him to love you.

Every time that he gives you a one-on-one friend outing, just as he does with everyone else from your circle of ten people and counting (you lost count because you figure that all of you are about to outgrow the long table in the library that nobody else could fill), you convince yourself to never tell him how much you want it to be just you.

You figure that you’ll tell Jungkook that you do hold a candle for him, despite not detailing the extent, in this lifetime— maybe even the next time you get a moment alone with him, but you figure you won’t do it now; now, when he’s berating you for just a tiny sacrifice you made that’s minuscule for everything he does for you and everyone else.

“You’re impossible!” he huffs, his annoyance for you being loud enough to stop his faux display of studying and gather attention from everyone else in the library who actually is. Jungkook holds up his phone for you to read, brows scrunched at your look of amusement. “Jimin told me you were lactose intolerant!”

You can’t figure how and why Jungkook and Jimin’s conversation even flitted towards you when you recall clearly that the lactose-filled meal in question was from two weeks ago. You don’t question it because you already know that even giving it a second thought would already be too pompous of you, and you don’t question either why Jungkook looks too devastated at the realization.

“I just tolerated it,” you snort, burying your nose back into your notes, missing the flash of regret in Jungkook’s features.

He doesn’t know whether he’d feel more sorry over the fact that he didn’t know you were lactose intolerant, or that you didn’t speak up at all to preserve his excitement over eating at the restaurant he wanted to try out.

“But why would you?” he sulks, completely foregoing the textbook he has opened on the same page for the last hour.

You know exactly why you did, but you’d rather not tell Jungkook now. 

You’ll tell him some other time, that much you’re sure of, but not now — not now when he’s too devastated over your tummy issues, and not now when he’s just one revelation away from chewing you out over something he has to learn from someone else.

“Your broke ass bought it so I had to,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

“Foul,” Jungkook immediately chuckles, shaking his head at your retort even if he knows you’re just kidding around (he knows you won’t hurt him like that that), finally opening his laptop.

Jungkook, your friend, finally types on his laptop, yet it’s not for the contribution that he badly needs to put in for a group project.

Instead, he opens up the Google Doc and writes in a bullet point underneath your name, the words do not give cheese acquainted with three exclamation points — along with your name, is the names of your mutual friends and Jungkook’s observations that would come in handy for an outing, a gift, or both.

Jungkook’s that good of a friend, and that’s why you’ll never tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him.

( ♡ ) 

Getting gifts for someone who has a credit card and has no inhibitions when it comes to buying whatever they want is a difficult task.

Getting Jungkook for Secret Santa this year is even harder than the last, and that was when Jin snuck five strips of his name and left more than five of you (you don’t even know how that happened) without gifts, all while he was laughing to himself after he successfully gaslit everyone into thinking that they were all drunk and made the mistake themselves.

You don’t know what to give Jungkook that he doesn’t already have. He doesn’t have a girlfriend the last time you checked and while you can’t exactly wrap yourself in ugly, recycled kraft paper (as opposed to Jimin’s dumb, all-knowing-about-your-hidden-feelings suggestion), you’d rather not drive Jungkook away, even if you don’t know either how to drive him in.

You don’t have the slightest clue to what his ‘surprise me ;)’ scribble underneath his name means and it makes you feel guilty, far more than he ever could have after Jimin’s revelation of your dietary restrictions. 

It’s not the dilemma of who would sit next to who in the large albeit crowded dining table in the cabin that you rented out, nor is it the cooking and wrapping duties that each of you are tasked with that stresses you out this holiday season.

You wish so badly that the largest champagne problem you have at the moment was wondering if your Christmas gift for your nitpicky mom and nonchalant dad back at home arrived in time. You pray that your biggest hurdle is either convincing Namjoon that his room is just cold and not haunted, or breaking off a fight between Eunwoo and Soomin because they keep fighting over whose overpriced film camera will be used for the picture by the tree, or even talking Mingyu down from smacking Jin in his sleep.

The largest champagne problem that you have, even if it’s actually between life and living said life in peace without minding your inevitable heartbreak, is worrying about Jungkook’s gift.

You hold your breath as soon as Hoseok gathers everyone into the living room, your nerves probably getting the best of you because you hear Jungkook hollering to whoever’s closest to the thermostat to adjust it because your teeth kept chattering.

You have nothing to be nervous about, you convince yourself as Jungkook steps up into the middle and awaits with wide arms, your best friend being another victim of assuming that the comically large wrapped present is his (it’s not).

Jungkook doesn’t have any expectations for you to meet, you convince yourself as he becomes even more hyper when he learns that it’s you, so much so that he takes a lap around the backyard with his hands clapping furiously.

You can’t love Jungkook any more than you do now, you realize as you see Jungkook throw his head back in glee when he opens up your gift.

It’s only a Himalayan salt lamp. It’s only a lamp that you didn’t buy for so much. It’s only a thing that Jungkook said to you in passing one time, yet he’s beyond grateful — enough for him to carry you in his arms and take another lap around the backyard.

“God, you love me soooo bad,” he lulls, teasing you mercilessly as he unceremoniously drops you so he could adore the lamp up close. “I always wanted to lick one!”

“You’re so stupid,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at his excitement over something so simple; something so insignificant in the world of thoughtful, expensive gifts.

You affectionately think that Jungkook’s stupid, yet you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I didn’t hear a no,” Jungkook hums with his tongue out, eyes wide and flickering between you and the lamp. “Should I do it? Should I? I’m doing-…!”

You put a spoonful of cake into his mouth instead, the whine that escapes his throat still sounding like gratefulness to your ears.

Tonight’s not the night wherein you tell Jungkook how badly you want to be loved by him — not when he’s so preoccupied with his new salt lamp that he keeps daring people to take a lick of, not when he’s the one who’s being convinced that there’s a ghost in Namjoon's room and being bullied into sleeping in.

Not when Jungkook’s being the perfect, lovable friend that he is during the holidays and every other day.

( ♡ ) 

You’re well-aware that Jungkook’s a catch.

You know that he’s a catch and he’ll never live it down, and neither can you.

You’re very painfully aware that Jungkook’s a catch because you’re reminded of it every single day whenever you’re with your friends. You know that atleast two of them were integrated into the group in the first place because they liked Jungkook, and that doesn’t really bother you (more than it should, atleast) anymore. 

Sora’s crush formed out of boredom on Jungkook disappeared as soon as she got a boyfriend, but you understand why her gaze lingered on him in the first place.

Eunji’s crush on Jungkook already dissipated the moment she learned about his GPA, but you get why she had been attracted to his charm anyway.

You know that he’s a catch and that he’s not solely yours either, and the latter makes you humble.

“There’s flowers on your desk again,” you point out, the arrangement irking you for more reasons than one. “Why do you have to be so popular and handsome.. and lovable,” you mumble, the tail end of your mini rant barely being heard by Jungkook because he's too busy admiring his gift.

“What’s that now?” Jin piped up, eyebrows furrowed upon picking up your angry muttering. He's beyond confused, maybe just as much as you are, when you just snarl at him for his unintentional use of supersonic hearing.

“And why do I have to sit next to you even if I have allergies,” you redirect your attention to Jungkook who has to sweep the flowers to a beaten-up paper bag for safekeeping, the item in his backpack being the most used object for all of the admiration towards him.

“Because you’re the best-est friend ever,” he rolls his eyes, the faux pout on his lips surprisingly softening you instead of the opposite. “And maybe I’m the worst-est one to keep putting you through this.”

“You sound so stupid,” you reply automatically, crossing your arms and keeping them there. “But you’re right,” you exhale through your nose, conceding your defeat over willingly letting him put you through this, carrying the blame by yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t only act like this with you anyway. There’s no special treatment, there’s no false hopes being promised — it’s just you genuinely happening to fall for him.

“Come on, just tolerate it! Pinch your nose or something!”

“Why should I? Find another seatmate,” you sulk, making a point to angle your back away from him and towards Jin who’s at your right, doing his best at holding in a laugh over how ridiculous the both of you look.

“Obviously you’re the one with the latest phone so you have to take pictures of me with the flowers!” Jungkook whines, punctuating his sentence with a hand on his hip. He’s sulking because you’re sulking, and you’ve never hated him more at the moment. “Why else would I force you to sit with me?”

Jungkook’s stupid, and so are you, so you’d rather not tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him today.

( ♡ ) 

In all fairness, you thought you would lose nothing.

You thought you would lose nothing because in the first place, you barely expected anything out of Jungkook. Liking him didn’t mean that you were indebted to him, and liking you back isn’t something that he owed to you either.

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to fall on his knees and say something stupid to hint at his mutual love for you (although you did think about it a couple of times), but you atleast expected a little bit of respect from him to try and see the strength it took you to even confess.

You planned it perfectly, even taking a page off his book and making a whole word document for it wherein you spent days typing whatever crossed your mind throughout the day and erasing what seemed the most impossible throughout the night. 

In your word document, you and Jungkook would be out in the snow, skating in an outdoor rink even if neither of you know how to. You figure that you won’t attempt to drag (read: hobble with) him to the middle of the ice because in case he doesn’t like you back, the waddle back to the exit wouldn’t be as awkward; if Jungkook does like you back, you’ll still be hobbling to the exit, albeit happily.

In your word document, there’s a spine of a script that you would say when the day comes. You’ll skim along the lines of how you’ve never been so enamored with someone in your entire life (with the internal note that you’ll dial it back a bit if his expression turns sour), of how bright he makes your days for you, and how he doesn’t have to be obligated to like you back.

In your word document, you’re set. You’ve planned a foolproof blueprint of what would turn out, whether or not Jungkook is set on loving you the way you desperately want to be —

Except now, Jungkook completely undoes everything you’ve ever worked for.

Now, he looks at you with a glint in his eye that looks more apologetic than it is endearing. You don’t even know what led to your heartbreak exactly because one minute, you were just studying, and by the next, Jungkook’s already letting you down even if you haven't had the chance to rise.

You swear on your life that you weren’t giving any signals at all that you were actually about to confess. You were only silent, refusing to talk to him because you were too stressed over your task and that you were scared you would burst into tears if you tried mouthing the formula out loud, yet Jungkook mistakes it for your love.

Whatever you do on a daily basis, whatever you do based on your nature, Jungkook mistakes it for a confession that he wasn’t even supposed to hear until the end of the week.

He wasn’t wrong about the fact that you love him — what he’s wrong about is his assumption that your silence around him when it’s just the two of you, right now while you lose your mind over an assignment as you’re dressed in last week’s sweater and last semester’s horror, is your confession.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook winces, gently patting you on the shoulder as you’re yet to digest his rejection. “But I just don’t think we’ll work out.”

( ♡ ) 

You theorized that getting over Jungkook would be fairly easy on the chance that he rejects you after your confession.

You figure that Jungkook himself as a concept would be drastically difficult to move on from because he was just so lovable. He doesn’t know how to read a room and it’s one of his better quirks when you’re worrying over nothing. He doesn’t know much about knowing when to let up, and it comes in clutch when he’s pushing you to wholeheartedly do an assignment even if you’re already burnt out from crying.

Jungkook, as a concept, is indestructible. He’s the everyday variant of the goodness that some frat guys possess occasionally. He’s the realistic, attainable version of a main lead in a manhwa that’s only perfect 1/4 into the plot. 

He’s the manifestation of every good deed a stranger has done for you, except he’s someone you know with your heart and not just someone you could sketch from memory. 

With that, you also figured that moving on from Jungkook can’t be that hard because he was too out of reach despite being in the same friend group as you. Surely, it wouldn’t be so catastrophically hard to move on from a guy who just gasps for air every five minutes when he’s in charge of cooking in the BBQ hangout (instead of using the exhaust like a normal person), or from a guy who thinks citing references for a paper is only a suggestion.

The funny thing about it all is that you never actually confessed to Jungkook.

Actually (and contrary to the assumptions of the other friends you have from your circle), you’ve never said it to his face that you do have a crush on him. You’re ultimately known to be the friendliest person to ever walk the campus, and while not the most confrontational, they atleast expected for you to confess to Jungkook in your own way.

What actually happened was that Jungkook read through you — he does happen to be right about your feelings for him! He’s the second friendliest person right beneath you, and so the way he rejected you should never sting this much.

Jungkook thought it out meticulously. He read into the way you spent extra attention listening to him with your eyes practically gleaming. He read into the way you’d lag back behind him and hold him by his wrist whenever you were all crossing the street. Hell, he even read into the way you would take a shot at opening the extremely tight water bottle from the vending machine before everyone else.

The funny, tragic thing about it is that whilst Jungkook wasn’t wrong about pinpointing your feelings for him — you never confessed.

Jeon Jungkook, the second, ultimate friendliest man that your university has ever known, rejected you without even hearing the actual words from you.

He’s turned his back on you even before you could reach him, and the realization sinks in you unsettlingly. You never expected for him to like you back because it would be unfair of you, and you knew that; what just happened to hurt you most was that Jungkook didn’t even think twice.

He hadn’t given you the chance to pour your heart out at the very least.

He hadn’t even given you the space to breathe right after the rejection, because he skips and puts a smile on before winking, telling you that he’ll never speak of it again because you must probably be embarrassed.

The funniest thing about it all is that you aren’t embarrassed — you’re actually devastated about it.

It’s an odd event for Jungkook to feel lonely because with such a big friend group, he never thought he’d feel a little empty despite literally rubbing elbows in a circular table. He never thought he’d come to be a little annoyed at Jimin and his routine, playful, borderline offensive banter he’d always have with you at the top of the morning, and he never thought he’d even be more annoyed over the absence of it.

There’s one less laugh in the circle. One less bag strewn underneath the table, one less coffee order written on the notes app, and one less person to look for when hanging out.

You’re missing from the friend group, and oddly enough, Jungkook seems to be the most devastated about it.

“Why is Y/N not here?” he asks in the middle of Jin retelling his drunken fishing story, grabbing the attention of everyone in the table and maybe just about everyone else’s in the common area with the way his voice is frantic. “And why is she there with the new kid instead?”

Everyone flits through separate conversations after Jungkook’s interruption, some even wincing to themselves because although they know about your admiration for the guy and not your confession-that-wasn’t-one, they figure that nothing good could come out of Jungkook sucker-punching the new kid in his head.

“I don’t know, man. Buddy system, maybe?” Jin shrugs, stealing his food because it was obvious that Jungkook’s attention is everywhere but himself and the table.

Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms tightly to the point that even he feels a little suffocated. His entire face is crumpled with hurt, eyebrows furrowed out of frustration when you still aren’t looking at him; when you’re still not looking at him with confusion in your eyes, silently telling him off for glaring.

“Buddy system? We’re in uni. Who the fuck would bully that guy?”

“By the looks of it, probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffs, refusing to unclench his fists on his thighs.

“Well, what’s it to you that Y/N’s hanging out with someone new? What are you so heated for?” Jin elaborates, eyes flitting to you again.

Jungkook could only glare at you.

“What are you so nosy for?” he asks defensively, leaning back on his chair in a faux display of relaxation when all he wants to do is to remove the stupid smile on the guy’s face as he watches you talk.

Unlike Jungkook, Yoongi’s not stupid at all — in fact, he’s been vigilantly aware of Jungkook’s glare on the side of his face ever since you sat in front of him.

Yoongi’s not stupid, so he angles himself in a way that Jungkook gets to see him more. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but he does know of him and his “charm” that seems to make everyone go nuts for him. 

If looks could kill, then Yoongi would’ve already had mourners at his feet, but if provocation could poison, then Jungkook would already be frothing at the mouth.

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t even know about your admiration nor your foiled confession to Jungkook. The latter hasn’t even done anything personally to him. 

All he knows is that you’re in a big friend group and that you chose to sit with him, your friend whom you share a couple of advanced classes with but not a friend-friend like Jungkook is, and that you’re very easy on the eyes and admirable yourself if he thinks about it (he doesn’t need much time to ponder over it) — and, that he doesn’t really like being glared at.

“No really, I insist!” he laughs, pulling out a handwritten reviewer from his backpack with a grin. “I don’t know anybody else who likes making reviewers anymore by hand, so really, you’re just perfect to get them.”

“But you worked so hard on them,” you gasp, eyes already widening in both surprise and awe at the thick stack of papers in front of you. Yoongi’s handwriting and formatting are perfect; there’s no unnecessary calligraphy, the vividness of the highlighter is just right, and there’s even sticky notes at the bottom for additional details and references you could cross-check. “I.. I don’t want you to feel that I’m taking advantage-…”

“But I offered! You didn’t ask for reviewers from me shamelessly like every other opportunist does,” Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back as he slides the papers closer to you. “I’d be a really shitty senior not to give you any help. If anything, I think you deserve even better than-…”

Jungkook can’t resist.

Jungkook can’t take any more of watching you and Yoongi push and pull over whatever topic he can’t hear nor force Jin to eavesdrop on. He can’t take another second of seeing you be so happy talking to a guy that he doesn’t know, so much so that he comes up to you without a second thought.

“Hey,” he greets, his body only turned to you, completely ignoring Yoongi and blocking him off from your sight. “You didn’t order any coffee.”

You angle your body slightly to excuse yourself, except Jungkook conveniently happens to mirror your every move, confusing you even more. “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like it,” you trail, looking up at him in confusion while Yoongi could see right through him.

“Really?” Jungkook replies, the smile on his face being far from amused, eyes narrowed as he tries to catch up with the own annoyance that he harbors. “Because I’m seeing two coffees right now, and one’s in front of you, so…” he trails, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly.

Jungkook’s jaw is still clenched, along with his fists by his sides. He’s standing tall between you and Yoongi with his shoulders squared and his face steeled, the immovable forces that are him and the unnamed pit in his stomach starting to garner attention.

Namjoon has his phone out. 

Hoseok only has one cheek remaining on the seat because he’s ready to stand up and collect bets. 

You’re still sitting, mostly confused, when you realize the attention that’s starting to build towards the three of you.

“Yes, Jungkook. Great observation,” you snicker, the discreet roll of your eyes making him take offense.

“Oh okay, I see. So you were lying by saying that you weren’t feeling it, and I don’t get the hold-up of you-…”

“What did you come here for now, Jungkook?” you angrily whisper, keeping your head down as you retain your gaze on him and lightly tap at the table to indicate to Yoongi for the both of you to move. “It’s a little far-fetched for you to come all over here to pick a fight about coffee.”

Jungkook huffs, turning his head back to Yoongi behind him because he most definitely saw your signal. The lazy, amused gaze of Yoongi is what sets him off even further, the anger in his eyes unmistakable, except you recognize it for only what it is and not jealousy, because Jungkook doesn’t see you like that.

Or atleast that’s what the both of you assume.

Jungkook, your best friend, scoffs loudly.

“You sound so defensive right now.”

( ♡ ) 

You don’t respond much to Jungkook’s calls. 

As a matter of fact, you don’t respond much to Jungkook at all.

You don’t show up whenever he’s present, meaning that you’re only magically available whenever there’s half of your friend group at the most because if there’s more, then the search for the missing members would ensue, then you’d end up squished in a long table next to Jungkook again.

It’s very much like him to form grudges, yet he can’t even tell if he’s capable of having one towards you. Jungkook, with all his chest and afflictions, wants so badly to hate you because you’ve been blowing him off ever since he literally and physically came between you and Yoongi.

He apologized to you for that (and not to Yoongi because he didn’t really matter to him at all), and he doesn’t know the answer for it yet because his messages still remain unread. He’s enlisted the help of your mutual friends on various occasions by trying to get them to give all his little treats for you, yet you refuse them as soon as you catch wind that it’s from Jungkook.

He even tried studying for real in the library in hopes that reverse psychology (he thinks that’s what it’s called) would work and that thinking he doesn’t want you to come would make you do the opposite, yet it still doesn’t work. Jungkook’s already mad that he studied for nothing (he’s more interested in getting you to notice him than to actually learn), but he becomes even more heated to realize that your anger for him is just directed at him alone.

You still talk to your best friends, with the exception of him, and Jungkook has never been more envious of people who are apparently of the same status as him.

Jungkook wants you to drag him like you drag Sora to the nail salon and have you whisper at his ear to tell the nail tech not to cut your cuticles because you’ve been afraid of getting them done since that 1/34th part of a medical drama episode you watched on your phone.

Jungkook wants you to complain to him like you complain to Namjoon when you’re frustrated with a professor whom you’re convinced is only critical to you and no one else, later making him promise not to tell anyone else from your friend group because they like said professor.

Jungkook wants you to run to him as you always did, just because you feel like it. He wants to sit in silence with you again and put his hand on your knee when you’re in the verge of tears just looking at your schedule for the week.

He wants to stand guard again outside the bathroom door of the expensive coffee shop because it’s either the lock is broken or because Namjoon's managed to instill in you the existence of ghosts in cold spots.

He wants to be the Jungkook like you’ve always known, again, because it seems like you’ve forgotten him completely. You have the Yoongi now, it seems like — the smarter, more composed, and more charismatic variant of him that he wants to get rid of because Jungkook never predicted the existence of him.

Even more, Jungkook didn’t even entertain the concept of him being replaced because it was always the two of you together, even in a sea of friends. 

He’s your best friend, your confidant even, but nothing more — all Jungkook feels is that he’s even less than the status the both of you are assigned to be. 

He’s angry and sad and disappointed all at the same time because he thought he had almost lost you since he rejected your confession. You were fine; you were as fine as you could be for someone rejected when it comes to yearning to be his, and yet the moment you let Yoongi in, Jungkook feels as if you threw everything the both of you had just for him.

“Just so you know, student-teacher relationships are illegal,” he corners you one morning in your dorm, two godforsaken weeks after chasing you around the campus yet turning up empty.

“What the fuck are you on about?” you immediately scrunch your nose at him, the accusation he throws at you being too farfetched to the point that you don’t even think of shutting the door at him, ignoring Eunji’s betrayal for you by pretending to come over.

“What am I on about?” Jungkook exasperates, the scoff that leaves him making you feel small in front of him. “You’re literally the one who’s getting chummy with fucking Yoongi of all people!"

"Yoongi's a teaching assistant! He's our senior! Do you not know that?"

"Do I look like I'm interested in any other people outside of our circle?" he retorts, lips turned up in a snarl. Jungkook provokes you with a sarcastic glare, the look on his face enough to make you throw your head back in irritation.

"Come on, even Jin and Jimin are friends with Yoongi and-..."

"This is not about them!" 

"But you just-..." you stop as soon Jungkook interrupts you, losing your gaze on him for a single second to close your door and when you look back, you find that he’s already comfortable being vindictive on your bed, his arms crossed and his back straight.

"Also, teacher and teaching assistant both have the word teach so it's literally still illegal," he narrows his eyes sarcastically, the tone to his voice unclear despite his words suggesting otherwise. "You look so stupid right now."

"Jungkook can you stop?!" you burst, your temples stinging at the back and forth that Jungkook’s thrown the both of you in. “What the hell is going on with you?"

Jungkook had sworn to himself up and down that he has so much stuff to pick with you. He knows he has so much baggage to unpack and how much shit he has to bring up, even if it’s only been two weeks with you. He’s partly relieved that you’re in front of him and you still haven’t fled, yet a large part of him is beyond frustrated with you because you don’t even look like as if your time apart has taken a toll on you.

Between the two of you, it’s only Jungkook who looks like his distraught has manned him completely beyond surrender. Even coming to see you by hatching a plan with a hesitant friend is something he considers an act beyond surrender — whatever the space is between surrender and demand is where Jungkook lies with you.

"No, what's going on with you!” he argues, standing to his feet to come face-to-face with you. “You can't just spin this around when I've done nothing but be a good friend to you!"

"You think I'm not being a good friend to you just because I don't spend every single minute attached to you? I can still hang out outside of our friend group without being-..."

"This is not about our friend group!" Jungkook emphasizes once again, the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes coming up because he feels as if you can’t hear him no matter how much he repeats himself. ”This is about us and how you abandoned me ever since I rejected you!"

"I didn't abandon you, Jungkook!" you spit, pushing at his chest lightly with your finger to get him to back up from your face yet he refuses to. He’s still insistent at staring you down with his jaw clenched, eyes wide and unblinking because he knows that if he moves even just a millimeter askew, he’d cry. “You didn't even give me the chance to confess to you! You rejected me without even hearing me out. Do you think I would still be able to talk to you, face to face like how you want so badly, as if nothing happened?"

"The answer would've been the same even if you confessed,” he grits with his chest heavy, not at the way he keeps holding his breath in order not to break down in front of you, but because you look at him with so much disdain that it makes him want to puke.

"Do you not think I know that?" you laugh humorlessly, gnawing on your bottom lip as you don’t drop his gaze. “Do you think I didn't prepare for that possibility? I knew what could've happened if I confessed and I'd still be okay with it, Jungkook!" you raise your voice, throat already giving out at the slightest pressure because you know you lost the fight ever since you let him in. "What I'm not okay with is that you didn't even give me the chance.”

It’s evil, really, with the way no amount of self-pity could ever pull you from the grave you’ve dug up. You went for Jungkook, carrying all grief you knew you were bound to feel, and yet you still feel unprepared. You still feel unworthy even moping for someone like Jungkook because not even his rejection, nor anyone else’s acceptance of your admiration by some sort of miracle, is enough to make you feel like you’d be missed.

Your two weeks without Jungkook is your rehearsal for the two months, then two years, then two forevers eventually without him by your side. You had still been able to live by yourself and with your friends, excluding him, and you thought you were fine because it feels as if nothing had changed.

You thought you were fine until Jungkook gets in your face to tell you that it’s not, and all over again, you’re reminded of how desperately you want to be loved by him to the point that you’d rather drown in your own pity to try and preserve whatever’s left of you.

"I told you the answer would-..."

"Shut up!" you cry, steeling your nerves when you realize that Jungkook’s angrily crying in front of you, wiping at his eyes hastily. ”For the love of god, shut up!"

Jungkook stays quiet, not because you told him to, but because nothing good comes to mind when he realizes that you’re crying because of him.

"See? You don't even get where I'm coming from because you're not even giving me the chance to explain myself without making it all about you,” you sob, finally pushing him away, to which he lets you. "That's the problem with you, Jungkook. You're too self-involved."

"Not true," Jungkook whispers, shaking his head earnestly even if he feels the stupidest he has ever did in his life in front of you.

He follows your steps out of routine even if his brain had convinced his system that he hates you just seconds ago, arms instinctively trying to crowd you when you almost trip on the flooring on your way to the coat rack.

"Since you keep insisting that I abandoned you," you chuckle dryly before grabbing your jacket, turning your back on Jungkook and on your own space, which had just been the default hangout place of the both of you for the longest time, in pursuit of your own quiet without him. "Let me follow through."

Jungkook doesn’t want to tell you how desperately he wants you to want him again, to love him as you already did, and neither do you.

( ♡ ) 

The perks of having a big friend group is that the absence of several members wouldn’t make that much of a difference when it comes to hanging out. It would still sustain itself without a few extra voices joining in on the chatter watching movies and the bullying when it comes to a forgotten birthday greeting here and there.

The downside of being in one, is that said big friend group doesn’t matter at all to Jungkook when you’re not in it.

The lengths that your friend (read: a word that Jungkook’s come to abhor) has went through since your fight at your dorm are basically incomprehensible because he’s fully involved himself.

He’s pining after you pathetically, just like how you had always dreamed of, yet seeing him take turn after turn just trying to gain your forgiveness for something you’ve always pitied yourself for makes you feel guilty.

In Jungkook’s defense, he wants to be forgiven and loved (again) as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. Not only is he pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but also pathetic in the light that he wants the entirety of you (stubbornness and occasional sharpness included) to rub off on him.

“I know I’m stupid. I-I.. I know that I was unfair for not even letting you confess your feelings because I felt like dying when you started to ignore me,” he mumbles to your bedsheets, his legs crossed on the ground and his head muffled by the fabric because he doesn’t even want to sit next to you in fear of you revoking his chance to apologize in person, again, as if that’s not what he had been doing the past weeks. “Y/N, you don’t deserve someone as stupid as me and I hate it so, so bad.”

The sound of Jungkook apologizing to you has already been repeated enough to the point you’ve learned when to tune him out, but with the way his heart precedes his tone this time, you stop folding your clothes in favor of Jungkook who’s just two seconds away from passing out on your bed by fabric conditioner-bathed quilt-induced suffocation, to which he couldn’t pass up on because it was your scent and he missed hugging you.

“I can’t catch up with you on anything that you’re talking about with Yoongi. The only times I open a book are when I want to look at you but I don’t want you to see me. I can’t— I can barely even talk to you without feeling like I’m beneath you,” he admits lowly, the truth of his rejection finally springing up a little too much, and almost a little too late. “I thought, stupidly, that we wouldn’t work because you deserve someone better.”

“I don’t need you to catch up with me, Jungkook,” you murmur, lightly slapping his cheeks because he looks sleepy from all the sniffing he’s done on your quilt, but really, his eyes are only narrowed into slits because he feels like he’s about to cry. Again.

“But I need to, b-because when we run out of things to talk about that you’re willingly to dumb down to my level, what else could we catch up on?” 

“You’re not stupid. I just say-…”

“No. Don’t make excuses for me,” he laughs lightly, still sat on your carpet obediently like a dog because he doesn’t want to push your boundaries. “I’m beneath you and I didn’t want to drag you down with me because I.. I didn’t feel that you deserve me,” he confesses. “But I want you so badly, Y/N. You have no idea.”

Jungkook wants you so badly, that in your insistence of self-pity, it was his self-preservation that led him to cry by himself when you finally left the library after not-confessing to him.

He wants you so badly, that in his fit of self-preservation disguised into stubbornness, he had tamped down his desperation for you.

“I want to catch up with you, not you to slow down for me,” Jungkook rests his chin on your thigh, his wide, pleading eyes looking up at you. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m so, so, so sorry for being stupid enough to let you go the first time,” he tilts his head, resting his cheek on your awaiting hand. “Please. I’m just begging you to slow down for me this one time,” Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, nudging your hand gently with his cheek. “Please let me look stupid trying to earn you.”

Jungkook, without fail, tells you how desperately he wants to be loved by you.

[planet-dusk]

what do we think about the situation where jilix are mean and performing pussy job on you from the back and the front… kinda kissing tips…

i just wanna be sandwiched between them so bad

"c'mere," felix growls, pulling your face to his with a hand clasped behind your neck. your lips clash in a messy kiss — more teeth than tongue, his mouth swallowing your surprised gasp. his grip on your neck is possessive, almost too strong, jolting you forward and nearly crashing you into his chest.

behind you, jisung steadies your hips, stifling his own moans by biting down on felix's arm, your shoulder, any inch of bare skin he can reach. "f-fuck, i c-can't take it much longer..."

he leans back and watches felix's cock slip between your legs. the inside of your thighs are hot and slippery and jisung thinks he might explode on the spot when felix's velvety tip rubs against his own. he humps mindlessly against your ass, the sweet glide of your pussy and felix's veiny cock against his making him delirious with need. jisung has no idea how much time has passed since your bodies slotted together like this. fifteen minutes? an hour? four hours? with each passing second his brain shuts down further until there's nothing left but the urge to slip inside, to bend you over, to fuck you like you've been begging them to.

felix has started moaning again: low panting grunts quieted by your kiss. they're a shrill contrast to jisung's own high-pitched, whiny whimpers. he wishes he was the one swallowing your boyfriend's moans right now.

something in him snaps. he angles your hips and then, in one smooth motion, sinks his cock inside.

you cry into felix's mouth, taken aback by the sudden stretch — jisung's thick length forcing past your walls inch by inch, his hands keeping you in place as if you had anywhere to go with their bodies pressed flush against yours.

"'s too big," you falter and claw at felix's shoulders.

"is it now, baby?" he coos. "that's what you get for being such a fucking tease, walking around in those skimpy skirts whenever ji comes over."

then his hand is in your hair, pushing you down while jisung drags your body back to make space for felix. in doing so he buries himself impossibly deeper and you moan, tears pooling in the corners of your eye from felix's punishing grasp on your hair. he tugs at it for good measure, bending your neck back so he can shove his cock between your lips.

"c'mon, angel. show jisung what a good little slut you are."

[daemonbrain]

Part 1 | Part 3

3.5k, cw: ghosts a pervert and stalker, readers husband is a piece of work, brief mentions of sex, explicit, not proofread

Simon Riley wasn’t one for the romantics, he was a simple man. Wake up early in the morning just as he would on base, complete his training regimen, take a quick shower, and rot away in his one bedroom one bathroom apartment until he's recalled for a mission. A mundane life for the soldier who dealt with life-or-death circumstances just as many times as he’s brewed himself a cup of tea.

But even Simon had things to look forward to. After enduring the monotonous routine of his week he’d practically sprint to the butcher's shop, not for love of the finer cuts of meat one could find, but to see his bird. 

Still the fittest thing he had ever seen, your relationship evolved from standing with your back turned to his debauched stares to you actually saying hello to him. Slowly hello turned to little conversations. By conversations, it mainly consisted of you prattling on about one thing or another while Simon grunted out a short “yeah?” or “hm.” Sometimes he felt bad that his pretty little thing who always had endless things to say spoke to him, someone who was pretty much a brick wall in conversation.

But, ah well. He couldn’t think of you banging on the headboard while he fucked you and fully pay attention to what was said in his defense.

At times he didn’t know whether to scold or praise your ability to dole out kindness to even a cold bastard like him. A stranger was what he was, and you still managed to speak to him as if he were any other man you’d meet on the street.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. Not with the things he has done to others. Things that would send your pretty little head toppling off your shoulders if you knew. Not with the way he prowled behind as you shakily made your way up the slippery sidewalk, plastic bag with groceries in hand.

He didn’t deserve it, but he was sure as hell certain your fuckwit of a husband definitely didn’t deserve it. That prick left you walking alone and cold the whole way home, letting you know minutes before he was supposed to pick you up from the butcher’s shop. 

That pathetic guy didn’t want to take care of his wife? Didn’t want to pay attention to his girl? Well fine, he didn’t need to. Simon would. 

As if it physically pained him to watch you have to lift a finger, he sped up his pace and loudly cleared his throat from behind.

Whirling around in fright, your tensed shoulder immediately relax upon meeting Simon’s eyes. Your body shivered from the winds, yet you beamed at him with the warmth of the fuckin’ sun. 

“Simon! What are you doing here?” You chirped out in greeting, clasping your hands together as the bag dangled from your fingers. You waited for him to stalk up to you, broody as ever. 

His pretty little songbird, who tweets out her hellos even when the frigid weather demands a more mellow tone.

In his usual unsettling manner, he stops right in front of you. “I live up this way.” He lied. 

“Really?! I’ve never seen you coming up this way.” He was so close. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at your face, cheeks and nose probably frozen from the biting wind. Your brows furrowed in what he assumed to be suspicion, and he truly wondered for the first time if you actually had a semblance of survival instinct after all.

Raising a brow, he points to a random building in the distance. He picked something far enough away from your own home to quell any unease.You lived in that reddish-brown building about two blocks away. Though you’ve never told him that.

“Just righ’ up there. Usually don’t go this way, but the other route is closed off.”

Your furrowed brows quickly correct themselves at his words and you assume your resting expression, one much softer. “Well… we might as well head up together then!” You laughed in joy and Simon felt his cock twitch for similar reasons. It seems the concept of “stranger danger” wasn’t drilled into your head hard enough during your formative years. 

He’d never dream of doing something to hurt your cheery demeanor, but he couldn’t say the same for others. People can be nasty and, if you survived this long without that bubble being burst, he’d be more than happy to tear apart the prick who’d try. Pricks like your husband.

Wasn’t it a soldier's duty to protect the peace? Something like that anyways. 

He noticed the way your poor fingers stiffly held on to the bag, the weight harder to carry because of the chill in the air. His hands itched to help.

You quirked your head to the side due to his lack of anything to say and Simon merely jutted his head towards what you carried, “Give it ‘ere.” Your mouth opens to protest, but Simon doesn’t give you the opportunity as he easily plucks the bag from your hands. “Come on,” He began to walk again while ignoring his bird’s shrill whistles of objection to his help “You’ll catch a cold out ‘ere if we don get’cha inside soon.”

Catching up to his long strides, you approach from the right and sigh. You’re inclined to tell him it’s really not necessary, but the heat that bloomed in your chest as a result of his breathy chuckle interrupted you.

You didn’t even need to ask him to help... he just did. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered about his large frame, and he was huge. You had to admit the first time you had spoken to Simon you were a bit rattled when you stuck your hand out to shake his. It was maddening the way he never made a sound, the way his steps quietly padded along the floor when he went up to the counter at the butcher’s shop to pay. 

Occasionally you felt your skin prickle everytime he stood behind you. Whenever you gathered the courage to take a peek you would be met with the sight of him tapping away at his phone without a care, hood of his jacket concealing most of his face. 

Though you could’ve sworn his phone was upside down once?

Cars whizzed past and you shook away those thoughts. Simon happens to be a quiet type, nothing to judge him for. 

“... Thank you. You know, you’re a real nice guy.” Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, Simon slows his steps just enough to move behind you. “Simon?” You turn your head side-to-side in confusion as he nudges his way to your other side.

“Wha’?” He huffed while putting himself between you and the road. 

Odd.

The two of you got closer to the building and in a practiced stop you both pause at the entrance. About to speak again, you’re cut off by the loud ring of your phone. Looking down you see your husband's photo pop up on the screen. With a sigh, you hold up a finger to your companion and answer.

“Hey hun, is something wrong? You said you had a meeting?” You could hear the exhale of annoyance which escaped him before he responded.

“I’m working late tonight. I can’t make it for dinner. Make sure to leave me a plate before you go to bed though.” Of course. He was always late nowadays. One project or another he would say before rolling to face away when you asked him about his day before bed. 

You were his wife! You’d make time for him no matter what, and normally you wouldn’t want to be a bother, but the way tears threatened to bead your waterline in frustration caused your voice to harden a fraction.

“Again? Really? They’re working you a bit hard, don’t you thi-” 

“I have work. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You blink owlishly at Simon who looks back in silence. You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Slowly, you pull your phone away from your ear both saddened by your husband's cold words but also the humiliation of your new friend witnessing the way you were clearly hung up on by your own spouse.

You wanted to turn heel and retreat into the privacy of your apartment. Cook up a meal which will grow cold on the counter and curl into your bed while incessantly tracking the minutes until you hear the door open.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to burn a hole through your phone, and he waited for you to gather yourself.

“I- um,” letting out an awkward chortle, you scratch the back of your neck. “Looks like I'm alone for dinner tonight.” You managed a disingenuous smile. Simon didn’t seem like the type to be able to pick up on subtle social cues like that, you doubt he’d think anything of your words.

“Well I better get back inside… it's freezing out here. Thanks for your help with my bags I-I just have to get started on cooking right now, so.” You reached for your groceries and saw the strange look in his eyes soften a bit. As you pivot towards the entrance, you hear a gruff call.

“ ‘m pretty hungry righ now.”

…How could you be such an idiot! He carries your bags for you, probably chilled to the point of numbness, and you don’t even invite him in for something to eat. Not even a hot drink. All because of your own selfish discomfort?!

“Oh gosh, that was rude of me. Simon, you wanna come in? I have enough to whip you up a plate if you’d like. A ‘cuppa’ as well. Is that what you say?” You asked.

Simon was a kind man. He was intimidating, but surely it was okay to let him into your personal space. After all, the only person who would object to his presence was currently holed up at his office.

“Brought it up for a reason. That’d be great, love.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pattered in your rib cage at the endearing pet name. Kind words from a kind man. That’s all. You willed your heart to slow with images of your husband, to whom you had the utmost respect for.

The two of you made your way up to the spacious apartment. You bent over to unlace your shoes and take off your coat. It doesn’t go unnoticed how it took Simon a moment to follow suit. When he stood to his full height, a gentle warmth swelled within you when met with the sight of his broad build in the now seemingly small walls of your home. He looked as though he crowded the room more than any of the furniture.

You felt a bit hazy when you moved to the kitchen. You shouted back to Simon who stood put at the door, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable! Go ahead and sit down anywhere.”

Like a flower, you needed your fix of sunlight. You had lots of windows in your apartment to let the natural light in, a giant one looking into your living room. Simon would see you watching your silly shows, tapping away at your laptop while snuggled under a blanket in this very spot. Soon he’d show you the value of privacy, closing the blinds, locking everything before bed. 

There were shady people in the world. Those who’d feed off of your sweet carelessness like it was the best thing to touch their depraved mouths. That wasn’t fair to his bird. 

“ ‘m gonna go to the loo.” and before you even had the chance to give him directions, you watched the Brit make his way to the restroom unprompted.

It wasn’t fair, but he would make it fair. He would keep those bastards far away from you, guard your blissful paradise. Keep you ignorant.

So what if his methods were unconventional? So what if he’s followed you home dozens of times. It was to keep you safe. So what if he spent any free time he had watching you through the windows from the building across yours. 

Closing the door behind him, his lips quirked up at the sight of your things strewn about. Makeup, hair products, lotions taking up all the space on your side of the sink. In the mirror, his eyes caught on the laundry hamper sat in the corner. He had been here once before.

So what if he has come into your apartment during the late hours just to catch a whiff of your scent. Just to pull the blanket you had knocked off, deep asleep, while on the couch waiting for your prick husband. You needed someone. He could do good by you, or at least try his hardest to.

With practiced ease, he turns to open the hamper. Hands grabbing with the eagerness of unwrapping a present only to be met with a sorry sight.

“For fuck sakes”  He whispered.

You and your cleaning. The damn thing had been emptied out of all things with your lovely fragrance, tossed in the wash. With the quick roll of his eyes, he quietly puts the lid back on to the stupid thing.

He had been much luckier last time. After taking it upon himself to sneak in and close a window you left wide open, he had the urge to explore around. Fast forward to when he arrived at his treasure chest (the laundry basket) he was rewarded for his considerate act. He had nabbed a dirty pair of panties with sheer ecstacy. 

In the natural progression of things, his cock had hardened with urgency. He had stroked himself eagerly to the thought of your soft, snoozing breaths. A bead of pre-cum already poised to roll down his shaft. You drove him mad, only a few walls separating the two of you. He could walk over to you now, shove your legs apart and sink himself into paradise, in pure euphoria. He continued to jerk himself to the edge of his peak. He had taken in the sight of everything from your loofah to your robe to the pink toothbrush unobtrusively in the corner.

A shiver went down his spine as he looked at the very same toothbrush at present. He wondered how many times you had unassumingly used it since that night.

Images of his desperation flooding back, a hint of something akin to guilt. He had squeezed your panties to his face as if he was trying to suffocate himself, impatiently grabbing for anything else that could connect him to you when he felt himself begin to strain under the stimulation. He had grunted when your scent filled his nostrils, unlike how his balls emptied themselves, his release spurting all over your toothbrush.

When he came back to his senses, he had turned the coated thing over and over in his hand. You’d be none the wiser if he just… washed it off, right? No harm in something you wouldn’t know about. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than lightly run it under the tap.

“Simon! Food is ready!” You shouted. Breaking from his stupor, he steps out of the restroom and moves back to the counter overlooking the kitchen. You gave him that sweet grin while setting the food in front of him.

“Looks delicious, love. Thanks.”

You sat on the seat beside him with a plate of your own. You both tensed at the proximity for the same reason. Taking your first few bites, you look at Simon who blissfully closes his eyes and groans with satisfaction.

That warm feeling begins to simmer in your belly wrongfully so. You turn back to chew before breaking the silence. “I’m glad! It’s been a while since i’ve sat down and ate with someone… it’s a lot different to watch someone actually enjoy something you put effort into.” He didn’t miss the wistful expression you wore. He wanted to fix it, he never wanted to see that pretty mouth fighting stay curved upwards.

Whether it be unknowingly or not, you brushed your knee against and for a moment you both paused in that position. The touch was light but it felt as though Simon’s body was overloaded with only you. Your touch, your eyes, your everything.

It took himself a second to recompose himself, but when he realized your body stayed put; his heart just about soared. Taking another forkful of food, he casually glanced at you and nudged his knee unmistakably to yours. The sound of your cutlery clanging onto the plate gives him a degree of satisfaction.

You simply kept looking down to your plate, whatever was in front of you, anything except his intense stare. Simon was a stranger. Simon was unsettling. Simon was in your home. Simon was so strong, so large he could manhandle you in ways your husband could never.

Your husband. Your life partner who you’ve remained loyal to for years. This was so wrong. You should be leaping out of your chair and separating yourself by 3 meters at least in protest.

So how come you allowed his hand to grip your thigh? You frowned, yet surrendered to his fingers which tilted your face towards him. You didn’t know Simon, but you’d be dense to miss the dark glint in his eyes as he takes in your hesitancy.

How the tables have turned. It was always you who initiated interaction with the morose giant, but as he held you firm in his clutches, you could only sit in wait for his next move. 

Testing your reaction, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. Braving his gaze, you could only recognize want. He pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw as you tilted your chin upwards. You weren’t sure whether it was to avoid his lips or grant him better access to your neck.

“No no no come back to me. Come back.” He urged you carding his other hand through your hair, tugging you back. He had to see his bird's face, commit her to memory. Would her expression be like what he imagined? Better?

With a shaky raise of your arm, you caress his face with uncertainty. He needed to fuck you. The most depraved, wicked parts of his mind demanded it. His blood went straight down south at your gentle touch. He needed you to feel him, to feel all of him. 

He would protect you from all the perversions those other tossers had to offer, with only one thing in return. To corrupt you from the inside with his own special brand filth. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in your hair.

“I wanna fuck you,” he leaned closer to your ear and nipped it “and I have a feeling my pretty bird wants the same thing, yeah?”

Simon’s words sent a jolt to your brain to sink further into the daze. Your lips parted and you turned to him with round eyes hiding the temptation swirling behind them. Your eyes wildly roved across his face, searching

He carried your things, he called you pretty, he ate your food, he talked to you, he wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him-

His impatience got the better of him when he pulled you into a frantic kiss. His lips were warm and the feeling of his hands holding you secure and upright only added fuel to the fire. How would they hold you when he took you to your bed? Would he be so kind?

Had Simon known your phone would ring loudly moments before finally getting what he wanted, he would have broken it with his own bare hands.

Your eyes cracked open to only be met with the sight of your husband’s contact photo and all at once your guilt hurtled at you. Sensing you pulling away, Simon couldn’t help but try and keep you to him for even a moment longer. He knew it was over when you pushed at his chest to break the connection.

“I’m- oh my gosh. I… i’m a horrible person! Shit! Shit!” You spiraled as you hurriedly got up from your seat and backed away from Simon as if his touch had burned you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay-” He attempted to console you, but was sharply interrupted with a tone he had yet to hear from you.

“No, no! You need to leave. Get out, please!” You screeched in shame. As Simon once again tried to approach closer to placate you, you only put a hand up with a hard look. “Leave. We shouldn’t have done that, it was a total betrayal of trust!” 

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, ‘m gone.” His arms went up in surrender as he mirrored your own backward movements.

Your mind really went blank as you took deep breaths to calm yourself, Simon’s heavy footfalls receding and eventually fading from earshot entirely.

While you focused on calming yourself from your “mistaken” judgement, Simon could only think of one thing. 

If his bird couldn’t be happy because that fuckin’ asshole was still in the picture, he’d have to weed out the problem from the root.

He was a dead man walking.

[itzpookiepooh]

I am a sucker for LADs men being jealous so~ could you maybe write a pre-relationship hc where MC has too much rizz and charm. Like women and men are chasing and fighting for her affection. And MC is oblivious or used to the attention so she doesn't do anything to stop the admirers and their kind gestures whilst the men are gnawing at the bars of their prison cells 🤔

That's all I got for ideas 😞 also keep uo the amazing work pookie dookie bear 😘

Pookie dookie sent me into orbit ngl but I am also a sucker for the jealous stories

Jealousy, Jealousy ~

You were just giggling away without a care in the world. Caleb was staring into the soul of the man in front of him. He worked under Caleb so he knew you more in passing than personally. He was eating up everything you were saying. You couldn’t even see the googly eyes he was giving you. He literally couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

What sent Caleb over the edge was him putting his hand over yours. Caleb swiftly flicks his wrist causing the man to fall on the hard floor. You look over the table to see him groaning on the floor. When he got up his lip was bleeding making your eyes go wide.

“I’ll help you up.” Caleb offers taking the man by his arm before pulling him in roughly. “As your colonel I’d suggest you keep your hands to yourself unless you’re willing to lose them.”

The man gasps as Caleb pulls him up. You smile at Caleb’s helpful nature.

“He seems to have hit his head. He said he needed to lie down right?” He turns to the man making him nod quickly as he ran out of Caleb’s hold to a seat.

“Will he be okay?” You asked Caleb who just nodded with a smile.

“Of course he will. He just needed some convincing. You know how people in the fleet are.” He waves the man off making you feel reassured by his words.

Rafayel is one of the most jealous person you’ve ever met. If someone shows too much interest in you he loses his shit. Sadly for him, you are oblivious to your own charms. You were talking to a woman at his art exhibit and she was laying it on thick.

“You’re so radiant much brighter than the sun.” The woman fluttered her lashes at you making you laugh.

“What? Me? You’re really beautiful I mean look how you’re dressed!” You compliment her genuinely.

Harmless on your end however not harmless on the woman’s end. Rafayel scoffed before standing closer behind you. You looked up at him smiling brightly making his heart melt. He looked back at the woman with that evil, demanding glare in his eyes.

“My beloved knows that. I say it everyday.” His voice icy making the woman’s eyes widen and she walks away. You wave her goodbye as you cuddle up under Rafayel’s arm.

“She was nice wasn’t she?” You tell him making him roll his eyes to himself.

“A little too nice.” He mumbled before kissing your forehead.

Sylus doesn’t get jealous often but when he did he got very possessive of you. He also had the sass of an old woman. Poor you not seeing the advances of others or your own charms, you couldn’t see people wanted you in more ways than one.

“I just love your smile and your laugh is contagious.” The guy said as he stared at you dreamily. You smiled widely thinking you made a new friend.

“I’m glad we met each other! This is so fun.” You said cheerfully as you clasped your hands together.

Sylus pops up behind the guy with a firm hand on his shoulder. His sharp canines in the guys peripheral vision. There was an audible gulp as you smiled at the love of your life.

“I think there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.” He whispered to the guy making him scurry.

“My kitten seems to be attracting flies.” He spoke as he stepped closer to you. You tilt your head in confusion.

Flies?

Charlie was nice but you were too nice for your own good. Charlie’s niece came to visit and they were both bombarding you with going over there for dinner. Xavier didn’t like that at all.

“We can even have game night!” She expressed to you as you gleefully accepted. Charlie sat back and watched with a smile until he lifted his head and saw Xavier glaring back.

His eye was so evil it could scare the enemy before they could even step forward. You were just chatting away ignoring the subtle flirting of Charlie’s niece. When Charlie looked back at Xavier he was pulling out his sword. He only quickly puts it back when you look back at him.

“Starlight I’m not feeling well.” He pouted as he laid on your shoulder.

“Aww okay. We have to go but it was nice meeting you!” You cheerfully told Charlie’s niece before holding up Xavier before walking away.

He couldn’t leave without a lasting glare and a threatening glowing hand behind your back.

Poor Zayne having to share you with the world. He loves that you get recognized just not when you guys are spending time together. He likes to keep you for himself. Unluckily for him, you could charm a snake with that talk of yours. A smile that could blind even the blindest person.

“You’re even more gorgeous in person!” The man exclaimed making Zayne side eye him. The man just kept taking pictures of this ‘famous hunter’.

“Oh that’s so sweet! Remember to be more careful next time you’re out. A fluctuation can happen at any time!” You inform him as he gratefully takes your hands into his.

Zayne without thinking gives the man a cold shock to his wrist as you were busy smiling too hard. The man jolted back to look at his wrist. The ice was already disintegrating, the evidence long gone. He looks up at Zayne who has a cold gaze locked on him.

“Is something wrong?” You asked the man before he could speak Zayne had you by your shoulders.

“It seems his bones are frail. Let’s keep our hands to ourselves before he sustains anymore injuries.” Zayne’s voice drops just a little bit enough for the man to take the hint.

The man came up with a poor excuse on why he had to go but you were none the wiser.

“I hope he’ll be okay.” You told Zayne as you watched the man leave. Zayne just hummed uninterested in the man who tried to steal your attention away.

I didn’t know where I was going with this but fuck it we ball!

[suksatoru]

you did what?! — ft: touya todoroki

you go and pick up your boyfriend from j-j-jaillll !!

"he's all yours, ma'am."

getting a call from your local police station telling you to come pick up your boyfriend from jail is not how you wanted to spend your friday evening. but here you are, standing at the foot of his cell with an expression so petrifying that even the officer standing beside you has to take a step back and avoid your gaze.

touya watches him unlock the cell with a grimace. the second the cell door slides open, you take a step forward—and touya does the most reasonable thing he can think of in regard to his safety and slams the gate closed, effectively locking himself back up again.

there's a moment of silence before you let out a gasp of absolute disbelief.

"touya, i swear to—"

"sir, i don't feel safe with her here. can't you, well, i dunno—make her stand a couple of fucking feet away from the door so i can step out without getting my face bashed into the nearest wall?"

the officer takes a long look at touya, who has the audacity to clasp his hands together in a plea, while you turn towards the officer with a raised brow.

"...you have her listed as your emergency contact. you'll be fine."

touya seems offended by the officer's words, but he doesn't argue any further as the man fumbles with his keys before unlocking the cell once again. touya steps out tentatively, shoulders slumping and a pout tugging his lips downwards (a half-assed attempt to look innocent, really) and you try not to let your eye twitch.

"officer, could you tell me just what he did again? i've seem to have forgotten what you told me." you state dryly, watching touya squirm under your gaze as he strains his wrists against the cuffs wrapped around them.

"uh—he was caught vandalizing a gas station. you know that one mr. takami a couple streets over runs? then he, uh, sort of beat him up."

"oh, come on—"

"shut. up. officer, please take us to the front desk so i can fill out the necessary papers and take him home."

the entire ordeal took only a little under an hour. and before touya knew it, he was back to being his usual passenger princess self beside you, though he had to keep one arm braced against the door and the other gripping the middle console for his own safety.

"babe, you are driving way too fast."

big mistake. if touya knew better, he would've held his breath all the way home instead.

"do you know how worried i was? did you know i was in the shower when they called? you're paying the hospital bill coming in the mail one of these days for when you finally send me into cardiac arrest with all the shit you pull, touya!" you snap, and since you were at a red light, you remove your hand from the steering wheel and give touya's ear a harsh tug, just for good measure.

"okay, i get it—ow that fucking hurts! let go of my ea—i mean, sorry," he wheezes dramatically, and you finally let go of your grip on him with a huff when the light turns green.

"you're lucky they let you off so easy. seriously. i think you deserve at least—wait, are you not wearing your fucking seatbelt?" you snap, looking back and forth between touya and the road like this entire day was the most irritating inconvenience of your life, and touya can only scramble to put it on while mumbling a string of apologies under his breath. he peers up at you wearily, and you turn away from him and back towards the road with a grumble and tensed-up shoulders.

you're in a really bad mood today.

touya wants to tell you that he's sorry and that he knows he's wrong, but he's afraid that if he looks at you a certain way or says the wrong thing, you might just use your bare teeth to bite his head clean off.

so, he settles into his seat quietly and allows you the peaceful ride back home you deserve. now that he thinks about it, you've been under quite a bit of stress lately. it takes touya half a second to realize he must have made it worse, and it takes him another second more to remember that today was your only day off of the week—and he sinks back into his seat with a frown.

touya throws a careful glance at you through his peripheral vision, taking note of the tired look in your eyes.

you were worried about him when he got arrested. picking him up from the police station when he knows no one else would. fussing over him not putting on his seatbelt and being safe. and that is when touya is reminded why the only number in his emergency contact is yours.

it's because you love him, dearly and with all your heart, even when he acts like an exasperating little shit (e.g., the stunt he pulled today).

carefully, as if he's getting ready to pet an angry cat that loves to scratch, touya takes his hand and drapes it over your thigh, rubbing gentle circles as he presses his fingers into the fabric of your jeans. you don't push him off you, merely sighing through your nose and keeping your eyes on the road, and touya takes that as a sign that you're not too mad at him.

"when we get home, i'll run a nice bath for you to relax in. we can order takeout, and i'll massage your legs real good, you know, just the way you like after a long day." he says softly, and his touch is tender enough that you can't help but melt underneath it.

touya made staying mad at him really hard.

"fine."

"we can watch a movie too, your choice—you won't hear a single complaint from me. i'll even tell kei i'm sorry, even though that jackass was lookin' at me funny and started the whole—whatever. just know that i'm sorry, doll. i mean it."

touya doesn't tell you how he's only sorry for causing you stress, not sorry for rightfully knocking keigo down a size. but you finally do glance at him—and your face has softened into the very smallest of smiles. that sight alone is enough to warm touya's body entirely with love.

"alright then."

touya keeps his word, just like he always has. he carries you into the apartment bridal style just to hear you laugh again, he lights a candle for your bath and massages your shoulders and temple as you bathe, and he doesn't even bat an eye when you flick through your tv shows and select pucca. no, he settles into your side and passes you his favorite blanket instead.

touya makes mistakes often—all the time, actually. it was his specialty, but he liked to blame his miscalculations on bad luck or the universe working against him. but, then again, it didn't make sense for the universe to be working against him if he had you—a gift to breathe life back into him, the light of his life, divine intervention, if you will.

he'll work on himself to be better for you, and you'll recognize his efforts and dote on him accordingly. you make touya somewhat civilized and human, and for that, he is forever grateful.

[enjakey]

이럼 안돼 don't touch, don't do it

PAIRING: cop!sunghoon x criminal!fem!reader

TW/N I 10k- smut so MNDI | cop au, neighbours au, rich man au l Sunghoon is a bit obsessed with Y/N and a bit manipulative but he’s still a good person | I tried the daddy-fication of sunghoon but I don't think it worked I don't think I have a daddy kink guys 😭 | l wrote smut guys, idk if it's good. When I wrote it, it made sense but the more I read it the weirder it got Imk how yall like it | I've been writing this since they debuted these fits bro HOW ARE THEY SO BIG | Heeseung is mentioned

SMUT TAGS: masturbation (m), oral (fem receiving), fingering, nipple play, p in v (no protection, wrap it before you tap it queens), creampie (ig??)

SUMMARY: A detective falls for his beautiful neighbour, a kind kindergarten teacher- only to discover she’s a drug holder hiding secrets in their swanky apartment building. But when love and loyalty clash, how far will he go to protect her… even if it means betraying the badge?

Park Sunghoon had never wanted an ordinary life.

Even as a kid growing up in Seoul, he’d been the one asking too many questions, staring a little too long at strangers, trying to piece together the puzzle of who they were and what secrets they might be hiding.

While other kids played video games, Sunghoon devoured detective novels, captivated by the thrill of solving what no one else could see. The idea of finding the truth- no matter how dark- set a spark burning in his chest that never went out.

His parents didn’t share the same enthusiasm. They wanted him safe behind a desk, in a respectable office job, not out chasing criminals through alleyways or risking his life in drug busts. They worried about the danger, the long hours, the toll it could take on his body and mind.

But Sunghoon couldn’t picture himself anywhere else.

He put himself through the Police University, graduating near the top of his class. It wasn’t easy. The physical training was brutal, the academic work relentless. But he thrived on the challenge. The more demanding the task, the more determined he became to prove himself.

When he made Detective, his parents finally accepted that this was his path. Especially when they saw how much he loved it.

Because Sunghoon didn’t just like being a detective. He lived for it.

He loved the rush of following a trail no one else noticed, the satisfaction of snapping puzzle pieces into place, the silent pride of bringing dangerous people off the streets. And, perhaps most of all, the power of protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves.

Years of hard work paid off. By his early thirties, he’d climbed the ranks to Detective Sergeant, leading high-profile investigations into narcotics and organized crime. His instincts were sharp, his case-closure record impressive. He’d earned respect in the department- and enough salary to afford the sleek, high-rise apartment where he now lived.

On paper, Detective Sergeant Park Sunghoon was exactly where he’d always dreamed of being- successful, respected, and at the top of his game.

He just never expected the biggest puzzle of his life would be the woman who lived right across the hall.

It started with an elevator ride- Sunghoon was on his way to work. Briefcase in hand, the other stuffed in his pocket, he leaned against the metal wall of the elevator, music flooding his ears. For the past month, nothing interesting had come out of work. The city had been quiet- a bit too quiet. 

Before the doors could shut, she’d come running towards him, waving frantically to hold the lift, please. And Sunghoon barely heard her but he was swift- he slid his hand between the opening and let the doors slide open for her. Shyly, she thanked him, hands clasped in front of her, dressed somewhere in between formal and casual- Sunghoon didn’t know the word for it. 

He’d never seen this girl before. And it came more as a shock to him when he realised she lived a few doors down from him- two doors opposite of his, the last one in the hallway, to be precise. As more time passed, the more their mornings seemed to align. They’d open their doors at the same time to leave for work, Sunghoon drove down the same road Y/N walked down to reach her place of work- she was a kindergarten teacher- and they both went to the same grocery store on the weekends. 

He knew this because once, they’d accidentally bumped their carts into each others’ while exploring the cereal aisle and awkwardly laughed at each other- familiar enough to know that they lived in the same building together, not familiar enough to exchange words.

But after that, Sunghoon tried to make himself more familiar with her.

Y/N was her name- he learnt that after asking the door man, who didn’t even hesitate to give him, a cop, the piece of information. And for the next few days, he’d utter the name under his breath to familiarise himself with it- the way it rolled off his tongue with ease, the way it suited her more than any other name he could fathom.

And in those elevator rides, quiet and still hovering with awkwardness, Sunghoon would observe her, examine her, admire her. It was the way she never looked tired in the mornings, though Sunghoon did most of the time- whether it was because he was on his way to the gym or to work. And it was the way her clothes seemed to fit her so perfectly, the way her hair was always perfectly styled and fell over her shoulder. And every morning in the elevator, she would pass him a curt nod and then look ahead like he didn’t exist. 

Sunghoon came to dread weekend mornings- it meant he wouldn’t be able to see her in the elevators, wouldn’t get that simple nod of acknowledgement from her, couldn’t mark his mornings with the sight of her fresh face and light smile resting on her glossed lips.

Then, he started getting off work early- purposeful and calculated. It took a while to figure out but eventually, he’d just asked the doorman again and he told him that she came back home around 3pm everyday.

So, the next day, at around 3pm, Sunghoon waited near the elevator, praying that Y/N would grace him with her appearance.

And she did, with her arms filled with a stack of papers almost comically thick, trying her best to not let them fly away. She greeted the doorman with a respectful smile and bow and scurried her way to the elevator- to Sunghoon, where he stood, waiting for her, when the elevator doors opened at the perfect timing.

“Do you need help with that?” Sunghoon asked her, cooly, swiftly, as though he hadn’t been rehearsing it.

Him, a cop, a sergeant detective, had to rehearse how to talk to a girl- he wasn’t sure how to feel about himself. But he didn’t care.

Y/N, ever so focused on carrying the papers, which seemingly were filled with children’s drawings, looked up at him with raised brows and parted lips- surprised. And she watched as he pressed the button to their floor and moved his hands towards her, the papers she was holding, and held the bundle with one hand with ease, the other holding his briefcase. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled to him, utterly defeated by his kindness, blinking up at him like she was looking at him for the first time- sharp features, welcoming smile and thick strands of hair that fell over his eyes.

“You’re a kindergarten student?” He asked, hiding the fact that he already knew.

“Yes,” she nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And you?”

“Detective sergeant,” he answered proudly and didn’t fail to miss the falter in her expression- the way her smile froze for half a second, eyes darting away before she caught herself.

But Sunghoon didn’t think much of it- most people had that reaction, he realised. It was an instinctive mix of caution and unease, that momentary tightening in the shoulders, the subtle shift in their gaze. The badge on his belt carried weight, even when hidden beneath a suit jacket.

To him, it was normal. To everyone else, it was a quiet reminder that the law was always watching.

“I know I don’t look it,” he offered as a joke, sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips in teasing.

Y/N soft expression came back, eyes wrinkling as she brought her hand up to hide her giggle. “I knew we had a cop living in the building. Just didn’t think it was you.”

“Now you know,” Sunghoon shrugged.

The elevator door spinged open and the pair stepped out. Meekly, she reached towards her pile of papers- the drawings her students made with so much care and enthusiasm, despite their lack of talent and hand-eye coordination.

And he handed it to her, the tips of their fingers brushing- it sent jolts of electricity through Sunghoon and he reveled in it. He didn’t want to deny himself of it.

“Thank you for keeping us safe,” she bowed to him- a sense of respect and caution- before walking away towards her door. 

And Sunghoon stood back and watched, stunned by their interaction. He’d read the interaction from a completely different light than she- Sunghoon thought he’d made his flirting evident.

Over the next few days, Sunghoon made it a point to leave work early. 

It was a sudden change that left his team blinking in surprise and quietly celebrating the unexpected gift of shorter shifts. Detective Sergeant Park was known for staying late, stubbornly glued to his desk long after everyone else had gone home, but now he was practically racing the clock to leave on time. And every afternoon, like clockwork, he managed to catch Y/N just as she stepped into the elevator on her way home.

Their conversations were always the same. He’d greet her with a polite, “how has work been?” And she’d offer a soft, careful smile and reply, “good. What about you?” 

They rarely ventured beyond those simple exchanges. Sunghoon might elaborate a sentence or two about his day, and Y/N would give a quiet hum of acknowledgement, always polite but distant, as though she were determined to keep a safe buffer between them. It should have been harmless- a neighborly routine. But the truth was, Sunghoon found himself craving these moments far more than he ever intended.

At first, he convinced himself it was just curiosity. He was a detective, after all; it was his job to observe, to notice the details other people missed. But curiosity had a way of creeping into obsession, and one night, Sunghoon found himself sitting alone in his apartment, still wearing his dress shirt and tie, staring at the blank wall across the hall where her door stood closed and silent. He tried to shake it off, tried to remind himself that she was just a neighbor and that he was reading too much into things. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how Y/N refused to indulge him in more information about herself.

The next day, long after the precinct had emptied out, Sunghoon stayed behind. His finger hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, battling with the quiet voice of his conscience. Then he gave in, logged into the department’s secure database, and typed her name.

The screen flickered as the system pulled up her records, and in an instant, her life unfolded before him in cold, precise lines of text- her full name, national ID, place of birth in a small town hours outside Seoul, her parents’ names and current address, her school history, and a clean criminal record. 

And then he saw her salary.

Sunghoon stared at the figure, frowning. It wasn’t terrible, but it was nowhere near enough to cover rent in a building like theirs- not unless she was spending every last won on housing and living off instant noodles.

Even that seemed unlikely. 

For a long moment, he sat there in the dim glow of his monitor, replaying every seemingly innocent detail he’d noticed about her over the past weeks.

He thought about how Y/N never wore designer clothes like so many of their neighbors. Her wardrobe was always simple- neat blouses, soft cardigans, plain skirts in gentle colors. He remembered how her grocery bags were always small and light, never crammed with the expensive brands and imported snacks he saw other tenants buying. There were no impulse luxuries in her cart- just bare essentials like rice, eggs, and milk. And he thought about how she didn’t own a car. Until now, he’d assumed it was a personal preference, maybe an eco-friendly choice for someone who worked with children. But suddenly, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that she simply couldn’t afford it.

Worst of all, he kept remembering the way her eyes flickered, just for the briefest second, when he said, “Detective Sergeant.” That tiny pause, the split-second stiffening of her shoulders- it hadn’t meant much to him at first. But now, it clawed at his mind like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

If she couldn’t afford her apartment on her salary, then someone else had to be paying for it. But who? And why?

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming anxiously on his desk, as his detective instincts kicked in, cataloging possibilities. Maybe she had a secret inheritance, but that seemed unlikely given her parents’ modest background. A wealthy boyfriend? He’d never seen any man visiting her apartment. Debt? That wouldn’t explain who was covering her rent. Or- an unsettling possibility twisted in his gut- was she involved in something illegal?

He wanted so desperately to believe she was just a sweet, hardworking teacher who lived a simple life. But Sunghoon had seen too much in his years on the force to ignore the possibility that sometimes the most ordinary faces hid the darkest secrets. And as he sat there, the weight of his discovery pressing down on his chest, one thought refused to leave him:

What was Y/N hiding?

The following weekend, Sunghoon called in sick to work, mumbling some half-hearted excuse about feeling unwell. It wasn’t entirely a lie- his head did feel scrambled, his chest tight with a restless, obsessive energy he couldn’t shake. But it had nothing to do with a virus or a fever. 

It was because of Y/N.

So instead of resting, Sunghoon spent nearly all of Saturday posted right inside his apartment doorway, a chair dragged close enough that he could lean forward, pressing his ear against the wood. He sat there for hours, listening intently for any sounds from the hallway, straining to catch even the faintest whisper, the softest shuffle of footsteps outside.

Saturday morning passed uneventfully. The building was quiet, the only noises drifting through were the occasional thump of someone’s vacuum cleaner, a child laughing two floors up, and the distant hum of traffic far below. By afternoon, Sunghoon was starting to feel foolish. His muscles ached from sitting so long in the same position, and he was growing bored, losing hope in the theory that Y/N was involved in anything illegal. 

A huge part of him felt relieved. Maybe there was an innocent explanation for how she could afford to live in such an expensive apartment. Maybe she really was just a sweet, hardworking kindergarten teacher with no dark secrets lurking behind her gentle smile.

But as evening fell, the quiet shifted.

Somewhere around seven o’clock, Sunghoon heard footsteps in the hallway- soft, deliberate steps that didn’t match any of his neighbors’ usual patterns. They were heavier than Y/N’s light tread but more cautious than the confident strides of the businessmen who lived on their floor. The footsteps approached, and Sunghoon felt his pulse spike as he heard the subtle click of a key sliding into Y/N’s lock.

He shot upright, adrenaline surging through him.

A moment later, Y/N’s voice carried into the hall, soft and cautious.

“Come in, come in!”

Peering through the slim crack of his door, Sunghoon caught a faint glimpse of her silhouette standing at her doorway, her posture slightly nervous, her hands fidgeting as she stepped aside to let someone enter. The figure who brushed past her into the apartment was a man- taller than Y/N, wearing dark clothes, his face half-obscured by the shadows spilling across the hallway. Sunghoon barely caught the sharp line of a jaw, the gleam of something metallic at the man’s wrist, maybe a watch.

And then the door shut with a soft thud, swallowing them into silence.

Sunghoon stood frozen in the threshold of his own apartment, heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears. Every instinct screamed that this was the moment he’d been waiting for- that he wasn’t crazy, that there was something more to Y/N than sweet smiles and pastel sweaters.

He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the sudden urge to storm across the hallway and demand answers (what answers? He wasn’t her boyfriend yet to accuse her of adultery and he had not enough proof to accuse her of illegal activity). Instead, he forced himself to close his door softly, leaning his back against it as he stared at the ceiling, trying to steady his breath.

Half an hour later, Sunghoon was still standing near his door, tense and silent, every nerve on edge. He kept replaying the image of the man slipping into Y/N’s apartment, trying to memorize every shadowy detail- the broad shoulders, the dark clothing, the quick, almost furtive way he’d moved past her.

Then, suddenly, Y/N’s door clicked open again, the quiet sound echoing through the hushed hallway.

A string of small, hushed voices spilled out into the corridor- soft mumbles of polite farewells, fragments of words like “thank you,” and “see you tomorrow.” Sunghoon held his breath as he edged his door open just a few centimeters, peering through the narrow slit.

The man emerged first, stepping into the hall with quick, purposeful strides. In his hand, he now carried a black bag he hadn’t been holding earlier. It wasn’t anything overtly suspicious- a simple duffel, the kind a person might take to the gym- but the sight of it made Sunghoon’s gut twist. The man didn’t look around as he headed for the elevators, his expression unreadable, eyes focused straight ahead as though determined not to acknowledge anyone who might be watching.

Behind him, Y/N lingered in her doorway, one hand gripping the edge of the door frame, offering a polite smile that seemed just a little too practiced.

“Goodnight,” she called softly and clicked her door shut.

The man gave a short nod without turning, and within moments, he disappeared into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet hiss.

Sunghoon stood frozen, staring at the empty hallway, his mind spinning faster than he could control.

Why did that man suddenly have a bag? What had been inside Y/N’s apartment that he needed to carry out? And why was Y/N- the gentle, soft-spoken kindergarten teacher- mixed up with a man who slipped away like he was avoiding being seen?

By Sunday evening, Sunghoon was practically vibrating with restless energy. He hadn’t left his apartment all weekend except to crack his door open and press his ear against it whenever footsteps echoed in the hall. Part of him felt ridiculous, spying like a jealous lover, but the other part- the detective part- couldn’t ignore the gnawing certainty that Y/N was hiding something.

So when the same man returned that evening, carrying the same black bag and arriving almost to the minute as the night before, Sunghoon felt both vindicated and deeply uneasy. He watched through the sliver of his door as Y/N opened hers with that same practiced gesture, stepping aside to let the man in. She was smiling, but there was tension in the set of her shoulders, as if her entire body were braced for something she couldn’t control. Half an hour later, the man was leaving again, only this time the bag was nowhere in sight.

Sunghoon decided that tonight, he wasn’t going to simply watch from the shadows.

The moment Y/N’s door cracked open again and the man stepped into the hallway, Sunghoon swung his own door wider, pretending to be in mid-stride, keys in hand like he was on his way out. Y/N and the man both froze, eyes wide, expressions caught somewhere between surprise and unease. But just as quickly, their faces smoothed back into normalcy, masks snapping into place.

“Oh, Y/N,” Sunghoon said, approaching with measured steps, his voice warm but edged with curiosity. “Nice to see you.”

Y/N tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and offered a bright, practiced smile.

“You too. How are you? No work today?”

“Ah, I wasn’t feeling too well, actually,” Sunghoon replied, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he rubbed his temple. “Headache.”

“Oh, uh… do you need anyth- ”

But Sunghoon cut her off sharply, shifting his gaze toward the man who lingered beside her.

“Who’s this?” He asked, tilting his head slightly, as though trying to place a familiar face.

Y/N hesitated, just for a second- a small hitch in her breath that only someone like Sunghoon would catch. He felt the electric thrill of knowing he’d cornered her, even if only slightly. He could see the calculations racing behind her eyes. Y/N was smart enough to know that by now, Sunghoon had begun to suspect something. She would also know how good he was at detecting lies- she’d told him once she’d fallen down an internet rabbit hole researching him after he’d revealed his job.

Sunghoon waited, silently daring her to slip. He was expecting a lie- and he’d know if it was a bad one. He already knew almost everything about her. Everything he needed to.

Y/N cleared her throat lightly, then reached out and patted the man on the shoulder.

“Oh, he’s my high school friend,” she said smoothly.

The man cracked a confident smile, nodding. “Yes. High school friend.”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes to thin slits, studying them both. He knew it was a lie- but he had to admit it was a good one. If she’d claimed he was her brother, that would have been an instant giveaway; Sunghoon knew for a fact that Y/N didn’t have any siblings. But a high school friend… that was plausible enough to muddy the waters.

“Ah,” Sunghoon murmured, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he considered his next move. He debated asking the man’s name, but quickly decided against it. Pushing too hard right now would make his suspicions too obvious. Instead, he forced a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” the man- allegedly Y/N’s high school friend- nodded briskly, then stepped past Sunghoon and headed toward the elevator.

Sunghoon didn’t stop him. He turned slightly to watch over his shoulder until the man disappeared behind the closing elevator doors. Then he shifted his gaze back to Y/N, who was still standing there, her fingers twisting lightly around the hem of her sleeve as if waiting for him to say something more.

If Y/N was who Sunghoon now suspected she was, he knew she would have pieced it together by now- that he was watching her, that the detective across the hall was no longer just her friendly neighbor but someone who had begun to look for the cracks in her story.

Sunghoon felt the options swirling in his mind. He could investigate further, dig until he found enough evidence to arrest her- or he could play this differently. Use the situation to his advantage.

And as he looked at her standing there, eyes darting nervously across his features, Sunghoon’s lips curled into the faintest trace of his signature smile.

“We should go on a date.”

Sunghoon, as a servant of the law, knew he should feel sick for twisting a situation like this. Two things haunted the back of his mind like gnawing teeth: first, that he was refraining from investigating a suspicious woman; and second, that he was manipulating a woman he found irresistibly attractive into going on a date with him under the silent, unspoken threat of his badge. He knew it was wrong, that he was stepping over lines no detective ever should.

Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

It was something in the way Y/N looked at him, cautious and wary, as though she understood the unspoken rules of their new game. Neither of them said it aloud, but in their own ways, they both knew exactly what was happening- that this date wasn’t just a date, that there were secrets between them as delicate and dangerous as glass.

But despite the guilt simmering under his skin, Sunghoon took a sharp, almost perverse pleasure in it. He enjoyed watching her give in, watched her let herself be led, her eyes flickering with worry yet her body following him willingly. He enjoyed seeing her dolled up in a dress he was certain she’d bought just for tonight, even though she’d skimped on groceries for weeks. He enjoyed the way she hovered close as he played with his car keys, opening the door for her, helping her into the passenger seat, leaning in to fasten her seatbelt while his breath ghosted hot against the soft curve of her neck.

“Where are you taking me?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet and timid, as if she were stepping around invisible tripwires, afraid that one wrong word would trigger an explosion.

“You’ll see,” Sunghoon replied, grinning as he settled into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. He didn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes darted down the length of his body, lingering on the crisp lines of his shirt and tie, the way his biceps flexed beneath the fabric whenever he turned the steering wheel.

He drove her to a high-end restaurant nestled in the wealthier end of the city, its sleek black interior accented with soft golden light that shimmered off crystal glassware and polished marble. Y/N seemed visibly uneasy as they stepped inside, glancing around as if searching for escape routes, clearly wanting to protest. But she swallowed her objections, knowing that to protest too much would be to reveal something she was trying desperately to keep hidden. So she followed Sunghoon to the table he’d reserved, perching on the velvet seat as if afraid to touch anything, letting him handle the menu without protest because she didn’t know what tasted good in a place like this- and because he clearly wanted to be the one in control.

Sunghoon ordered steak and pasta, pairing it with an expensive bottle of red wine, while Y/N nibbled at her food in tiny, hesitant bites. Of course, Sunghoon noticed. He watched every subtle movement of her fork, the way she daintily touched the edge of her lips with her napkin.

“You’re barely eating,” he remarked, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through her quiet pretense.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” she stammered, shaking her head. “Just… a bit nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?” Sunghoon pressed, tilting his head slightly, studying her reaction the way he’d interrogate a suspect.

“Never dated a cop before.”

Sunghoon burst out laughing, throwing his head back, utterly charmed and amused because it was so far from the answer he’d expected.

“No need to be nervous,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “I’m here to keep you safe, aren’t I?”

For a moment, Y/N only stared at him, her eyes glassy, lips parted in silent confusion. She didn’t quite know what he meant, and Sunghoon could see her brain scrambling for the safest assumption. But she let herself believe, just a little, that Sunghoon might truly be offering protection.

When she didn’t speak, Sunghoon reached across the table, his fingers brushing the delicate bones of her hand.

“I want to get to know you,” he murmured. “I really do.”

“What do you want to know?” Y/N asked, her voice cautious, each word weighed before it left her lips.

Sunghoon grinned, his sharp canines glinting as he flashed the kind of smile that disarmed suspects in interrogation rooms. “What’s it like teaching kindergarteners?”

A knot seemed to loosen in Y/N’s chest at that, and she began to talk. She spoke about the children she taught, about the mischievous little monsters who made her want to tear her hair out, and the sweet angels who adored learning and followed her around like ducklings. She told stories about art projects gone wrong, about tantrums and lost shoes, and the occasional hellish parent who stormed into parent-teacher meetings breathing fire.

Sunghoon listened, genuinely engrossed. He knew some of those kids by name- their parents, to be specific. He’d either worked with them before or helped them handle a crisis. It was a wealthy neighborhood, after all, and everything was connected in one way or another.

Yet when it came time to talk about himself, Sunghoon remained cautious. He offered only vague glimpses of his work, speaking in generalities, avoiding any detail that might make Y/N panic. Instead, he shifted the conversation toward safer territory- his childhood, the younger sister he adored, the years he’d spent ice skating as a boy before giving it up to chase his dream of becoming a cop.

By the end of the night, Y/N had allowed herself to lower her guard just enough for real laughter to slip out, for genuine warmth to appear in her eyes. Not total trust, but enough that her smile no longer looked forced. On the drive back home, she didn’t pull away when Sunghoon rested his large hand on her thigh, his fingers warm and possessive against the fabric of her dress. And as they rode the elevator upstairs, they shared silent, loaded glances, each of them acutely aware of the dangerous undercurrent swirling between them.

When they reached her door, Sunghoon leaned casually against the frame, lingering, waiting.

“Good night,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “We should do this more often.”

“We should,” she agreed, offering a smile that might have been genuine- or might have been another carefully constructed mask. And perhaps, Sunghoon thought, it was a bit of both.

That night, Y/N didn’t kiss him. Sunghoon wanted to, badly, but he held himself back. He let her slip inside her apartment, closing the door gently behind her, leaving him standing alone in the hallway.

But when he finally crawled into bed, he fell asleep thinking of her. He couldn’t help it. The memory of her at dinner earlier that evening was too vivid, too intoxicating. His hand instinctively drifted downward, fingers curling around the growing hardness beneath the sheets

She had been sitting across from him, her lips wrapping around the fork as she took a bite of dessert. The way her tongue flicked out to catch a stray crumb, the way her doe eyes locked onto his as if she knew exactly what she was doing- it had driven him wild. And now, here he was, imagining that fork was something else entirely.

His grip tightened around his dick, his breath hitching as he began to stroke himself slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He closed his eyes, letting the image of her take over. In his mind, it wasn’t a fork between her lips- it was him. Her mouth was warm, wet, and inviting, her tongue swirling around his tip before taking him deeper. He could almost feel the heat of her breath, the way her cheeks would hollow as she sucked him in.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hips bucking slightly as he imagined her looking up at him with those innocent eyes, feigning naivety while she coaxed him closer to the edge. The thought alone was enough to make him groan, his hand moving faster now, the rhythm becoming more urgent.

He could see it so clearly- her lips stretched around him, her hands gripping his thighs for balance as she took him deeper, her eyes never leaving his. She would be so good at it, so eager to please, and yet there would be that hint of innocence in her gaze, as if she didn’t know the effect she was having on him. But she did, she had to know. No one could look at him like that and not know what they were doing.

His breathing grew ragged, his body tensing as he neared the edge. He could feel it building, that familiar pressure in his lower abdomen, and he knew he was close. In his mind, she was moaning around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Her hands were on his hips now, pulling him closer, urging him to let go.

“God, yes,” he whispered, his voice strained as he imagined her swallowing every last drop, her tongue lapping at him greedily as if she couldn’t get enough. The image was too much, and with a low groan, he came, his release spilling over his hand as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was still foggy, the image of her lingering even as the reality of what he’d just done settled in. He should feel guilty, maybe even ashamed, but all he felt was a deep, aching need for more.

Because now, more than ever, he was certain- whatever secrets Y/N was hiding… he was going to be the one to uncover them.

The next morning, Y/N stepped into the elevator and felt her pulse spike the instant she saw Sunghoon already inside. He stood tall in his usual work attire, his trousers hugging the firm muscle of his thighs, the crisp white shirt straining ever so slightly against the breadth of his chest and biceps. He looked entirely too handsome for someone whose presence posed such a lethal risk to her carefully balanced life.

Y/N gave him a curt, polite smile, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but Sunghoon simply grinned back at her the way he always did. Except now, there was something new between them- a charged understanding, a connection woven from secrets, lies, and stolen glances.

He leaned closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear, and murmured, “you look beautiful today.”

Despite herself, Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, dancing on a knife’s edge, but part of her thrilled at the attention.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You look good too.”

A fleeting look of triumph crossed Sunghoon’s eyes, and then the elevator doors opened. He strode out, heading toward the parking lot to start his day, while Y/N lingered behind, heart pounding like a warning drum in her chest.

As soon as Sunghoon’s tail lights disappeared, Y/N hurried out of the building and practically ran the few blocks to the café near her kindergarten. She risked being late- it didn’t matter, not compared to what she needed to do.

Inside the café, tucked into a shadowy booth near the back, Heeseung was waiting for her. He was the same man Sunghoon had seen slipping into her apartment two nights ago, and now his expression was tight with frustration, jaw set as he leaned forward across the table.

“You need to move out,” he said immediately, voice low but edged with urgency. “It’s not safe anymore.”

Y/N dropped into the seat across from him and wrapped her cold fingers around the coffee cup waiting for her. She knew he was right. Every part of her logical brain screamed that she needed to get as far away from Park Sunghoon as possible. But the thought of leaving- of severing whatever twisted connection had begun to blossom between her and Sunghoon- sent a cold dread spiraling through her stomach.

Because somewhere during that date, as Sunghoon had smiled at her with those sharp, predatory eyes, as he’d listened to her stories and brushed his fingers over her hand, Y/N had started falling for him.

“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s glare sharpened, dark eyes glinting.

“I can easily stop paying rent for that apartment, you know that?” He threatened.

Y/N lifted her chin, a hint of defiance flashing across her features. “Who’s gonna stash your drugs for you then, huh?”

Heeseung fell silent, his mouth snapping shut at once. He stared at her, clearly torn between anger and grudging respect.

“I know how to handle this,” Y/N said firmly, pushing back her chair and standing.

But as she left the café and started the short walk to her kindergarten, she felt the lie settle like a stone in her gut. Because the truth was, her way of handling things had never involved loyalty to anyone except herself.

And if it ever came down to choosing between Heeseung and Sunghoon… Y/N already knew who she was going to choose.

Sunghoon took Y/N on more dates over the following weeks- quiet afternoons in cozy cafés, early morning rented bicycle rides through tree-lined park trails, and elegant dinners in restaurants where the chandeliers glittered like stars overhead. He never let her pay for anything; not a single won left her purse when she was with him. Whether it was coffee, movie tickets, or dinner for two, Sunghoon covered it all without a moment’s hesitation, as though he took pride in spoiling her.

It was probably around the third date that Y/N finally kissed him- they’d come back from a modest dinner, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. It happened as they stood on her doorstep, the warm glow of city lights casting a soft halo around her. 

She’d leaned in, her movements tentative yet deliberate, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was achingly gentle, almost shy. Sunghoon had been instantly obsessed. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth- the way it felt so impossibly soft against his, the faint sweetness of her breath mingling with his own, the way her delicate fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as if she were anchoring herself to him. Even when she tried to pull away, her cheeks flushed and a nervous giggle escaping her lips, he’d caught her wrist and dragged her back in for another, deeper this time, his hunger for her impossible to ignore. The way she melted into him, her body pressing closer, only fueled his desire, leaving him craving more.

Everything seemed perfect- at least, on the surface. Their relationship grew into something that might have seemed genuine to anyone watching. But Y/N’s secret life continued unchanged. Her method of storing Heeseung’s product remained the same, except now he could no longer visit on weekends. She’d given him her spare key, instructing him only to come during the weekdays, when she knew both she and Sunghoon would be safely occupied at work.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Sunghoon was still investigating her in the shadows, despite how natural and affectionate their relationship appeared. He kept quietly collecting information, determined to trace every thread connecting her to the local drug ring, wrestling each day with the conflict between his growing feelings for her and his loyalty to the badge he wore.

A few weeks later, it was career day at Y/N’s kindergarten- a day her students had been buzzing about for weeks. Each child was supposed to bring in a parent or family member to talk about their profession, and Sunghoon lit up the moment he heard about it. He insisted on coming, eager to introduce himself as the policeman Y/N was dating, and she hadn’t found it in herself to refuse. There was something sweet about imagining her students meeting him.

On the morning of career day, Sunghoon arrived at the kindergarten looking painfully handsome, dressed in a perfectly pressed shirt with his badge clipped to his belt. He crouched beside rows of tiny chairs, introducing himself with a wide grin and explaining in gentle, animated tones what it meant to be a detective.

“Sometimes, I help find people who are lost,” he said, making big hand gestures that made the kids giggle. “Other times, I solve mysteries. Like a real-life superhero.”

Y/N watched him from the side, arms crossed over her chest, biting back a smile as her class practically vibrated with excitement.

One little boy raised his hand and asked very seriously,

“Do you have a gun?”

Sunghoon paused, lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. “Yes. But it stays in my holster, because being safe is the most important part of my job.”

Another child asked if he’d ever chased a bad guy.

“Once,” Sunghoon admitted, eyes wide and conspiratorial. “But he ran slower than me, so I caught him.”

The kids erupted into cheers and applause, clapping their hands, utterly enthralled. Y/N felt a twinge in her chest as she watched him- he looked so natural with the kids, so effortlessly charming. She wondered, briefly, if this was what a normal life with him could look like.

But Y/N didn’t realize the predicament she’d unknowingly set for herself by letting Sunghoon anywhere near her workplace.

Because after career day ended, Sunghoon insisted on grabbing a coffee at a nearby café. It was the same café where Heeseung usually hung around- the same one he’d started making Y/N meet him at since it had become too risky for him to visit her apartment.

Panic coiled hot and tight in Y/N’s chest as she followed Sunghoon out of the kindergarten. She wracked her brain for an excuse to drag him somewhere else, but nothing came to mind that wouldn’t sound suspicious. So she kept quiet, trailing behind him with her eyes wide and anxious.

They stepped into the café, and immediately, Y/N’s gaze darted around the softly lit interior. And there, in a corner booth, was Heeseung- slouched over his phone, absently stirring melting ice in his cold coffee.

The moment they entered, Heeseung looked up and locked eyes with Y/N. A split-second of surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by cold calculation. Without missing a beat, he closed his phone, slipped from the booth, and exited the café as casually as if he’d simply gotten bored. He didn’t even spare Sunghoon a second glance.

Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest. She didn’t know if Sunghoon had noticed the brief exchange. Maybe he was too engrossed in flipping through the menu, his fingers trailing over the glossy pages. Or maybe he had noticed and was choosing not to mention it yet.

They’d gone grocery shopping together on a breezy Sunday afternoon when the sun hung low and gold outside the windows of the upscale supermarket near their building.

Sunghoon had suggested it so casually, saying he needed to restock his fridge, and Y/N had agreed, telling herself it was normal- just another thing couples did. But the moment they stepped inside, Sunghoon took control of the cart, one hand wrapped firmly around the handle as he guided it through the aisles with the confidence of a man who’d never worried about a price tag in his life.

“Okay,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her with a grin. “Tell me everything you like.”

Y/N blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Everything I… like?”

“Snacks. Candy. Drinks. Anything you’ve ever wanted to try.”

Y/N hesitated, trailing a few steps behind him, feeling oddly exposed under the bright grocery store lights.

“No, it’s fine,” she murmured. “I don’t need anything.”

But Sunghoon was already steering them straight into the snacks aisle. He started plucking brightly colored packages from the shelves- imported chocolates in gold foil, novelty-flavored chips she’d only ever stared at longingly, matcha cookies, fruit gummies shaped like tiny peaches. He tossed each item into the cart without even checking the price, looking over at her with that mischievous glint in his eyes every time.

“These look good, right?” He said, waving a bag of truffle-flavored popcorn.

“Sunghoon, I don’t even know if I’d like that,” she laughed, trying to grab it back from the cart.

“So try it,” he insisted, gently batting her hand away. “If you hate it, I’ll eat it.”

She watched the pile in the cart grow higher and higher, feeling both giddy and embarrassed.

“I can’t afford all this,” she finally said, voice soft.

Sunghoon stopped pushing the cart and turned to face her fully, expression gentle. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re with me,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of it,” he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides… what’s the point of money if I can’t spoil my girlfriend a little?”

Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. She tried to protest again, a sense of guilt resting in her stomach, but Sunghoon was already back to tossing more snacks into the cart- fizzy Japanese sodas, tiny jars of imported fruit jam, and gourmet instant noodles that cost as much as a proper meal.

Later, as they stood in line at the checkout, Y/N lingered awkwardly to the side while Sunghoon handed over his sleek black credit card without blinking.

When they finally stepped outside, grocery bags rustling in his arms, he nudged her playfully.

“Next time, I’m buying you every flavor of ice cream in the store.”

And though Y/N tried to roll her eyes and brush it off, she couldn’t help smiling. For a fleeting moment, wrapped in Sunghoon’s attention, she almost let herself believe she could have this- him, the life he offered, and the simple joy of letting him grocery shop for her.

The two-month mark of their relationship was looming. Everything between them had settled into a rhythm that felt almost dangerously normal. Too quiet, too perfect for the reality simmering beneath the surface- a kindergarten teacher who hid drugs in her apartment, and a detective sergeant whose job was to lock people like her away.

Y/N had convinced herself it was fine to leave it unspoken. She wouldn’t bring it up if Sunghoon didn’t. Why risk unraveling the delicate thread of perfection she’d come to crave? She allowed herself to pretend, for just a little longer, that they were like any other couple falling in love.

But that fragile illusion shattered the evening of their two-month anniversary.

Sunghoon knocked on her door, and when Y/N opened it, she froze at the sight of the manila file clutched in his hand. Her name was scrawled across the front in bold letters that seemed to scream at her in the dim hallway light.

Sunghoon’s face was unreadable as he stood there, towering in her doorway, eyes dark and glittering like polished obsidian.

“I know who you are,” he said.

For a moment, Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Of course he knew. Deep down, she’d always known he’d find out. He was a detective, and she’d been his curiosity from the very beginning. But still- what was the point of the dates, of the laughter, of pretending to be normal? What had all of it meant if it came down to this?

“Sunghoon- ”

But he held up a hand, cutting her off, his voice as calm and steady as it was when reading someone their rights.

“I have two options right now,” he said. “I can do my job. Throw you in jail and shut down the entire drug ring you’re involved in.”

He paused, and in that tiny, trembling silence, Y/N thought she might die if he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Or,” Sunghoon continued, his voice softening just slightly, “you promise to be with me. And I can make all of this go away. You’ll be safe and free. The rest of them- Heeseung and everyone else- will go to jail. And I can protect you. No one will be able to hurt you.”

Y/N stared at him, heart pounding so violently she could feel it echoing in her throat. And the terrible truth was, she’d already known her choice. She’d known it even before he gave her the ultimatum.

She didn’t need to say a word. Sunghoon could read her answer in the way her eyes began to glisten, in the way her shoulders sagged as though in surrender. Because what else could she choose? The man she loved, who promised her a life without fear and hardship- or loyalty to a criminal world she’d only ever joined out of desperation for a little extra cash?

Sunghoon stepped closer, crowding her into the doorway, the file still clutched in his hand.

“It’ll just be you and me,” he murmured. “No more secrets.”

And Y/N let herself believe him. Because despite everything, the lies, the manipulation, the dark line he’d just drawn between freedom and ruin- he was still the man who bought her snacks she couldn’t afford. The man who smiled at her in the elevator like she was the only person in the world.

She didn’t need to say it. He already knew.

With a sudden burst of desperation, she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside. The folder fell from his hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor as she slammed the door shut behind them. Her lips crashed into his, hungry, urgent, and he responded instantly, his hands gripping her waist like he was afraid she might disappear.

His mouth was hot against hers, demanding, and she melted into him, her body pressing against his as if she could erase the distance between them. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, and she moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.

He broke away just long enough to breathe her name, his voice rough. “Y/N…”

She didn’t let him finish. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. He helped her, shrugging it off and tossing it aside before his hands were on her again, sliding down her back to grip her hips. His touch was electric, sending shivers through her body as he pulled her flush against him.

She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her thigh, and a thrill shot through her. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the muscles tense under her touch as she leaned in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, deeper, and she could taste the hunger in him, the need that matched her own.

His hands moved to the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly, teasingly, until it pooled at her feet. She stood before him in nothing but her lace underwear, her skin flushed with desire. His eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze raking over her body like he was memorizing every curve.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick.

She reached for him again, pulling him close as her hands slid down to unbuckle his belt. He let out a low groan as she freed him from his pants, his cock springing free, hard and ready. Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking slowly, and he hissed through his teeth, his hands tightening on her hips.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice strained. “If you keep doing that…”

She smiled up at him, a wicked glint in her eyes. “What? You’ll what?”

In one swift motion, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the couch, laying her down gently before climbing over her. His lips found hers again, hot and insistent, as his hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He kissed down her neck, nipping at her skin lightly before moving lower, his tongue tracing a path between her breasts.

“You have no idea how long I've waited for this.”

She arched into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before switching to the other. Her breath came in short gasps as pleasure coursed through her, her body aching for more. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teasing and tugging until she let out a soft moan, her fingers tightening in his hair. He responded with a low growl, the vibration against her skin sending shivers down her spine.

He moved to the other breast, his lips capturing her nipple with the same intensity, his teeth grazing lightly before he sucked hard. She gasped, her back arching off the couch as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. His hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak he’d just abandoned. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and she could feel herself growing wetter with every touch.

“Sunghoon,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Please…”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His mouth left her breast, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, each one leaving a mark of his possession. She squirmed beneath him, her hips lifting instinctively as he moved lower, his hands spreading her thighs wider. His breath was warm against her inner thigh, and she could feel the anticipation building, coiling tight in her core.

When his tongue finally touched her, fingers holding her oanties to the side, it was like a spark igniting a fire. He licked her slowly, savoring every inch of her as if she were the most exquisite thing he’d ever tasted. She cried out, her hands gripping the cushions beneath her as he teased her clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking it lightly before swirling around it in slow circles. The pleasure was almost too much, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge, desperate for release.

“I’m close,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she felt herself teetering on the brink. “So close…”

He didn’t let up, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles inside her while his mouth continued its relentless assault. She could feel every stroke, every flick of his tongue, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. Her legs shook, her toes curling as the pressure inside her built to a fever pitch. She was so close, so close, but he held her there, on the brink of edge, drawing out the pleasure until she thought she might scream.

And then, with one final, firm suck on her clit, she shattered. Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she came undone beneath him. He didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling and breathless, her legs shaking around his shoulders. When he finally pulled away, he looked up at her with a satisfied smirk, his lips glistening.

He didn’t make her wait for more. He stripped off her panties and positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he pushed inside her slowly, inch by torturous inch. She moaned loudly, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he buried himself inside her again and again. His name spilled from her lips like a prayer, each syllable trembling with need.

“You’re mine,” he breathed against her ear, his voice rough with possessiveness. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, her body trembling as he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. “Only yours.”

He kissed her fiercely, swallowing her moans as he drove into her harder, faster. His hands gripped her hips with a possessive intensity, pulling her closer with each thrust, as if he couldn’t get deep enough. She could feel the tension building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter, a storm of pleasure threatening to break. Her nails dug into his back, leaving faint marks as she clung to him, her body arching to meet his every movement.

“Sunghoon,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

His pace quickened, each stroke hitting that gummy spot inside her that made her vision blur. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, spreading through her limbs like wildfire. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding in time with the rhythm of their bodies. He leaned down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as if he wanted to consume her completely.

She could feel herself coming close, the knot inside her building to an unbearable peak. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him even deeper, and she let out a broken cry as the second wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her body convulsed around him, every nerve alight with ecstasy as she came undone. Wave after wave of sensation washed over her, leaving her trembling and breathless.

He groaned against her neck, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. “Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough with desperation. “I can’t- I need-”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. “Please.”

With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his body shuddering as he spilled himself with a low, guttural moan. She held him close, her fingers threading through his hair as he collapsed against her, his weight pressing her into the couch. For a moment, they lay there in silence, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies still connected.

He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside her with a low groan. He collapsed on top of her, his breath hot against her skin as they both struggled to catch their breath.

For a moment, they lay there in silence, their bodies still intertwined, the air thick with the heat of their shared passion. Sunghoon’s chest rose and fell against hers, his breath warm on her skin. He crawled back up her body, kissing her as he settled over her once more.

“You made the right choice,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling with something she hadn’t felt in a long time- hope. “I know.”

Sunghoon burned every last piece of evidence he had on her. He did it methodically, late one night in his kitchen, feeding pages into a metal waste bin and watching flames lick across her name until all that remained was blackened ash. Whatever files the precinct held were quietly erased, hidden beneath layers of bureaucracy that only a seasoned detective like him could navigate.

Meanwhile, Heeseung and everyone else tied to the drug ring were arrested in swift, targeted raids. Sunghoon had overseen the entire operation himself, never once mentioning Y/N’s name, ensuring she was invisible in the official reports. It was over, clean and final.

A few days later, Y/N packed up her apartment- what little she owned- and moved in with Sunghoon. His place felt impossibly spacious compared to hers, sleek and modern, filled with warm light and expensive furniture. It smelled faintly of his cologne and the fresh laundry he was meticulous about folding.

For the first few nights, she lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling while he slept with an arm thrown across her waist, heavy and possessive even in unconsciousness.

It was a strange kind of freedom she’d bought for herself- a life where she didn’t have to hide, where no one knocked on her door asking for packages or money. A life where Sunghoon slipped her credit cards and told her to buy whatever she wanted, where he brought her coffee in bed and kissed her temple like she was the most precious thing he’d ever possessed.

But there was still a flicker of fear buried deep in her chest, a knowledge that the man beside her had rewritten the law to keep her safe- and that he’d do it again if she ever thought of leaving.

Yet every morning, Sunghoon would wake, press a kiss to her hair, and murmur,

“Good morning, baby.”

And Y/N would smile back, whispering her reply, letting herself pretend- for as long as she could- that this was all she’d ever wanted.

[snail-day]

Satoru didn’t realize he was dating a cheater.

At first, he doesn’t think much of the Discord chatter drifting down the hall, just your usual giggles and gasps as you huddle up at your desk on a group call with your girlfriends to watch whatever shiny new k-drama or anime you’ve all latched onto this week. He’s used to the occasional squeal, the soft oh my god or no way he just said that, your voice floating out like sugar-sweet static.

But then he hears it. Clear as day.

“Oh my god, he’s soooo hot.”

Satoru stops dead in his tracks, halfway past the office door. Eyebrow twitching. Lips parting in quiet betrayal. He tilts his head, as if trying to hear it again. Surely he misheard, right? You couldn’t possibly have said that about a man that wasn’t him. Right?

His voice echoes in his head, smug and self-assured: You’re dating Gojo Satoru. There is no man hotter.

...And yet here you are, giggling like a schoolgirl over some random slice of man. A man who couldn't even protect you properly.

Fine. Fiiiine. He sees how it is.

So when your little watch party wraps up and you waltz into the living room all smiley and glowing, still soft and warm from friendship and fictional men, you find your real-life boyfriend lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, baby blues fixed on Digimon and totally ignoring you.

You pad up to him in fuzzy socks and one of his shirts, arms already reaching for his lap, but...bonk.

You smack right into a wall of nothingness. Your hands flail, fingertips scraping at thin air. “…Huh?” He doesn’t even look at you.

Satoru pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth, face blank with faux innocence. “Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, the most obvious pout in the world tugging at his lips. “Can’t cuddle me? Awww. That’s so sad.”

You narrow your eyes. “Satoru.”

“Maybe,” he says, glancing at you now with a grin that is way too satisfied, “maybe you should just go to your other boyfriend. Y’know. The one that’s soooo hot.”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious right now?!”

He just hums. “I mean, I get it. He’s got the sparkles, the background music, the tragic backstory - must be hard to resist.”

“Satoru.”

“Oh nooo,” he mocks, high-pitched and bratty, holding up his arms just out of reach while you try to shove your way through his Infinity. “Is baby sad? Is baby desperate for cuddles now? Should’ve thought of that before you committed adultery.”

You drop to your knees in front of the couch, pleading and begging with the cutest pout you could muster. “Nooooo, baby, please!”

He peeks over the edge, amused. “You begging now?”

You clasp your hands together like you’re praying. “You’re so hot. So sexy. So strong. You’re the hottest man alive. You’re hotter than any k-drama lead.”

He pauses for a few moments, just looking at you, the popcorn bowl tilts. His smugness wavers and he lunges straight at you.

You yelp as he drops Infinity and tackles you onto the carpet, arms wrapping around you in a flurry of laughter and wandering hands.

“Nooooo!” you shriek, giggling as his hands go for your sides, fingers dancing like he’s been waiting for an excuse to tickle you to tears. “Noooo, Satoru, mercy!!”

“Say it louder!” he grins, breathless with delight. “Say I’m hotter than everyone!”

“You’re hotter than every fictional man I’ve ever simped for!” you cry between wheezes. “You’re my sexy real-life boyfriend, oh my god - Satoru - ”

Only then does he stop, collapsing half on top of you, half off, his breath brushing against your cheek as the giggles finally fade into quiet panting.

He nuzzles into your neck, still smug but now a little sleepy. “Damn right I am,” he mumbles. “You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving boyfriend.”

You curl into him, still catching your breath, fingers twining into the softness of his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re petty.”

He snorts. You smile. And then, finally, he lets you cuddle him again.

Not because you earned it, of course. No, no. He’s simply a generous god. One who loves you way too much to keep up the act for long.

Even if he is setting a two-week ban on your crunchyroll account.

[yasministration]

people are watching - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au summary: it seems that you begin to care less and less who gets to see the true side of your parents. and apparently, so do they. wc: 1.8k+ cw: mentions of abuse

The first person Harry noticed as he stood on the window platform was you: the love of his life.

But there was something so unlike you whenever your parents were around. You didn’t even look at him, or even his parents who you had built such a relationship with.

James placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, but Harry squinted, leaning forward as though it would help him see better. You had something on your cheek. Your gaze fleeted to where Harry stood with his family, his uncles standing to the side. Instantly, you turned away, head tilted down towards the floor as you listened to your parents' words. Remus clasped a hand on Harry’s opposite shoulder. “We should probably get on the train.” Harry nodded, picking up his trunk.

But what he witnessed almost had him dropping it in shock.

Theo Nott strolled over to you. Harry knew he was your good friend, but at the sight of him offering you his arm, Harry nearly reeled forward. You glanced up before scoffing, pushing Theo’s arm away. The boy grimaced, nodding in acceptance and deciding to board the train without you instead. You followed him, but a hand large was instantly wrapping around your wrist, tugging you back. It belonged to your terrifying father.

Harry’s eyes widened as you yanked your hand out of your father’s hold, storming onto the train. Lily gasped, a sound that had Harry’s pulse immediately accelerating. Your father was rushing after you, his same hand now wrapping around your bicep, harshly pulling you towards him.

You stumbled, but one of your hands instantly pushed him away at the chest as you tripped away from him, and you yelled “Don’t touch me!” His grip on your arm was unrelenting, but your mother walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder. People are watching. He let go of you and you charged onto the train, face going hot with rage. Lily Potter turned to look at her husband worriedly. Harry ran onto the train behind you without a second thought, followed by his uncle, Professor Lupin.

They didn’t get to say their final goodbyes.

You slammed the door to the compartment shut, fuming. Tears pricked at your eyes but you ushered them away, taking deep breaths to calm your speeding heart rate. After a long moment of silence, you finally said “I’m sorry Theo.” Theo shook his head with a dismissive laugh. You’re good.

“When Potter comes, do you want us to leave?” Pansy asked, a hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. “He’s not going to come.” Draco, Blaise and Theo all responded together with some version of “Oh, sure he won’t come.” The compartment door slammed open, and you could physically see Blaise holding back an ‘I told you so’.

“Well-” Pansy announced, slamming her hands on her thighs as she stood up, nodding her head for the boys to follow her out of the compartment. Harry apologised as your friends walked out of the compartment, but he accepted the privacy gratefully, closing the flimsy compartment door behind him. “Can we talk about what happened?” You opened your mouth, but there was only silence as you settled on a response.

“Nothing happened.”

Harry cocked his head to the side, moving hair out of your face as he mumbled, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, how am I supposed to marry you if I don’t know every sordid detail about your family?” Normally, you would have laughed. But now? You responded in the opposite way Harry wanted. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened as you suddenly broke down into sobs, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you desperately began gasping for air, curling your body inwards into yourself.

Harry froze, watching you break apart in front of him. He brought both hands around you, tugging you into a loose hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You shook your head against Harry’s chest, leaning into his touch. Harry squinted his eyes again, looking at the mark he had spotted on your cheek from afar. Up close, he could make it out to be a scab.

You had been bleeding.

“He-oh my god, it’s so embarrassing!”

-

“You’re having dinner with Theo Nott on Wednesday.” You looked up from your book at the sound of your father’s voice. Standing up, you wiped both hands down on your dress. “We’re having dinner with the Notts?”

He sighed. “You don’t ever listen, do you?” You mother brought his focus back with a simple call of his name. “You and Theo Nott will be having dinner on Wednesday.” The polite smile on your face dropped, a pit growing deep in your stomach. Chuckling nervously as one hand rubbed at your opposite arm, you asked “Isn’t that a little old fashioned?”

A hand flew towards your face, an echo of the smack breaking down the mock comfort of your house’s walls. It left a staining red print on your face after the slap had been delivered. Your eyes stung with tears, and you felt something wet run down your cheek. Glancing down at your father’s hand, you spotted a red liquid on the bulky ring he wore on his finger.

You were bleeding.

“You will do as you’re told without questions, and you will do it properly. When I hear back from Nott, it better be good things only.”

-

“My love?” Your head snapped up to look at Harry. You realised that you’d been staring out the window as you recalled last week’s events. “They’re trying to set Theo and I up. Clearly, we don’t see eye to eye on the topic.”

Harry knew that it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t stop the churning of jealousy in his gut. Harry had never felt threatened by Theo Nott, but knowing your parents approved of him when they’d never accept your relationship stung him. Harry’s mouth moved without him speaking; he was speechless.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Harry cupped your face, caressing your cheek. You flinched back as his thumb neared the scab on your face, the skin around it still bruised and tender. “He hit you.” Harry noted aloud. Not a question, but a statement. You nodded. He took his hand off your face. “Are you-is it worse underneath?” Underneath your makeup. “It’s fine.”

Harry frowned, his eyebrows tugging together as he struggled to find his words. “You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right? I know I don’t relate to it, but I want to help. I want to-” Harry gasped out a breath as a lump formed in his throat, tears prickling in his eyes. “I love you so much.” He said instead, in an intimate whisper. You threw your arms over your boyfriend’s shoulders, pulling him closer to you. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you pressed kisses on his cheeks.

“I love you too, and I’m so, so grateful for you.” You and Harry stared at each other, both blurry from the tears in your eyes, but in that moment, despite the chaos, you knew everything was okay.

At least, between the two of you.

Because when the train arrived to the station, you followed your friends to the carriages, but an arm on your shoulder stopped you. “You’re going to take a carriage with me.” You froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Professor Lupin’s tone allowed no room for argument, stern but also offering you comfort. He was nothing like the man who had caught you with his godson after curfew, voice teasing and lightly threatening. No, Professor Lupin's voice held no trace of amusement as he looked at you, his face blank of any emotions other than concern.

“Professor Lupin, you don’t have to do this just because I’m Harry’s-”

“Forget Harry.” You went silent at his firm tone, gesturing for you to climb into the empty carriage.

“Forget Harry, forget that I’m your teacher. My husband was once in a similar position to you.”

“Sirius.”

“Sirius. I couldn’t do anything to help him back then, but I can help you now. I can help you and James can help you. He’s Chief Auror in the ministry. James is one of the most powerful men in law enforcement in the country.”

“No, he can’t help.”

“Yes he can, you just have to-”

“No, you don’t understand, Professor Lupin! You don’t-” You inhaled sharply, “My family bypasses the law! Why do you think everyone knows of this abusive system towards pureblood children, but no one has been held accountable for it!?”

Remus was silent.

“If my father cannot pay off James, he will pay off a judge.”

“Then let us help you escape. When you graduate, you’ll be old enough that they won’t have any legal control over you.”

“And until then, what? What if they have me marry him before that? I don’t want to marry anyone but-” You cut yourself off, bringing your hands up to wipe the rapid tears rolling down your face.

“I promise you, as long as I am in this castle, your father will not be able to control your life.”

And Remus Lupin had kept his promise. You ignored the letter from your father requesting you to come home for an important meeting — unnamed yet undeniably with the Notts — and hid away from him in the common room when he carried himself to Hogwarts the next day, demanding to see his daughter.

The commotion outside the common room was loud, and when you finally came out of your hiding spot, you were surprised to see Remus Lupin in front of the entrance, standing off against your muscular father who looked like he was about to hit him. You spotted Harry in the crowd, and the boy ran over to you, holding your hand tightly. While he knew you didn’t need him to protect you, he was prepared to do so.

“Parents are not allowed in student quarters, and that will not change for you!” Professor Lupin bellowed, and students took a couple of steps backwards, impressed yet terrified of Professor Lupin’s steady voice.

You gasped as you father stepped forwards boldly, pushing Remus backwards. He stumbled, but he quickly recovered, extracting his wand from his pocket and sending your father sliding across the floor to the opposite side of the hallway.

When Professor McGonagall appeared in the hallway with James Potter and his force partner by her side, you knew it was going to be over quickly. Remus had not only kept his promise, but more.

And when James Potter had magical binds on your father, walking out of Hogwarts properties, you let yourself breathe, and for the first time, threw yourself onto Harry and pressed a bold kiss on his lips without a care in the world of who was watching.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @hisparentsgallerryy, @liviessun, @rory-cakes, @heebiemcjeebies, @fl0weryannie, @muffinemmaa, @anne061989, @regsg18, @graciereads, @adharaoaklyn, @hawaii2320, @c0ldstvff, @bigbodycity, @starmaniii, @urmom101, @simpfortoomanymen, @ennaholic, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @eunicefrogsandfoes, @dreamamubarak, @quinquinquincy

[fantasticstoryteller]

Tim could not help but clasp his gloved hands together as he watched the faintly glowing, floating hero in front of him. Phantom looked around the small office with wide eyed curiosity, hair floating as though he was underwater, bright green eyes never staying in one place for very long.

Tim's gaze dropped back down to the paper that had been placed in front of him. It was very neatly organized, with numbers and bullet points. It looked like a lot of effort had gone into it.

Tim knew that Bruce would give his left kidney for this paper. Or for any hint to Phantom's identity. For someone who seemed so unreservedly open, Phantom was a complete mystery.

No one knew who he was, where he was from, when he was from (sometimes it seemed like he was from the future and sometimes he said things that was like he'd been in prehistory personally), or what his power set was (his most common response to showcasing a new power in front of the Justice League was a shrug and a, "I forgot I could do that"). He was polite. Tim hadn't come across a language that Phantom couldn't speak, although he could only read English.

Tim tapped the paper in front of him. "This is..." He trailed off. He didn't know how to explain how overwhelming this is.

"A set of contingencies for dealing with me if I should ever turn evil, yes," agreed Phantom. Calmly. Easily. As if he wasn't creating upheaval in Tim's mind.

Tim stared at Phantom. Phantom was still interested in his office. Well. In Red Robin's office. "Why are you giving this to me?" he asked. "Everyone knows that Batman's the one who has contingencies on everyone."

Phantom nodded, still not meeting Tim's gaze. "True," he acknowledged. "Everyone knows." Those bright green eyes turned to Tim. "But I don't trust Batman."

Tim opened his mouth to argue. To point out how everyone trusted Batman, even after a villain stole his plans and tried to wipe out the League. Everyone looked up to Batman.

Phantom's next words froze Tim's throat. "I trust you."