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aleksatia · 1 month ago

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Possession, Obsession, Devotion: A Study in Five Men

Nope, I haven’t vanished. Super grateful for all your messages and the sweet support — seriously, thank you. Just swamped with work right now, so writing’s slowed down a bit. Still working on your requests, I promise! And I’m knee-deep in a pretty massive, emotionally wrecking angst based on a Songfic prompt. While that one’s cooking, I thought I’d drop another batch of my random writer notes — all bundled up in one chaotic little post.

CW/TW: Headcanons, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Toxic Romance, Red Flags Treated as Romance, Intimacy with Control Undertones, Emotional Manipulation (Mild), Dubious Coping Mechanisms, Intense Emotional Dependency, Suggestive Themes, Mild Sexual Content, Unhealthy Attachment Framed as Devotion Genre: Romance-Infused, Erotically-Charged Drabbles with a Generous Side of Fluff Words Count: 8.6K

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Caleb’s Obsessed With You

1. You call another man “handsome” — even as a joke. You were teasing. Flirting, in that harmless, breezy way of yours. Caleb laughed. Then immediately kissed you like he needed to reassert territorial dominance with tongue and body weight. Funny how your jokes always end with your back against the wall and his hand on your throat. Lovingly.

2. You go to someone else for help instead of him. You needed tech support. A charger. Help moving the couch. And instead of calling your six-foot-two, military-trained, emotionally unstable boyfriend — you asked Xavier. Caleb didn’t say anything. Just stood in the doorway, watching, calculating how long it would take to move the entire solar system to make sure you never do that again.

3. You don’t sit on his lap when there’s clearly space.You chose the chair. Next to him. Not on him. He’s not mad. No, no. He's just questioning the entire fabric of your connection and whether you’ve lost all sense of instinct. And when you finally realize and climb into his lap? He sighs like a man being restored to life.

4. You post a photo where you're not touching him.Nice shot. Great lighting. Cute outfit. But why is he two feet away and not glued to your side like a shadow with military clearance? His arm belongs around your waist. His hand belongs on your thigh. And your caption? Should’ve been his name, followed by a possessive noun.

5. You forget to wear his dog tags. He left them for you. Carefully. On your nightstand. The same tags he’s worn through hell. And you? Walked out the door wearing a cute sweater and nothing that says “belonging to Colonel Caleb.” He’ll never say a word. He’ll just strip you slow the second you get home and fasten them back around your neck himself. With teeth.

5 Lies Caleb Tells Himself About You

1. “I don’t care that she uses my toothbrush.”You could take a fresh one. You don’t. You reach for his, same as always — like that handle belongs to you more than to him. He mutters something about germs. Then watches you rinse with that smug little smile. And later, when you're asleep, he moves it back to your side of the sink. Right where you like it.

2. “She can wear whatever she wants.”And you do. His shirt. His flight jacket. That tiny black top you swear is “practical.” He acts unbothered. Says nothing. But the second someone else looks too long? He stands behind you. One hand on your waist. That casual kind of possessive that feels like a warning wrapped in warmth.

3. “I don’t need her to text me when she gets home.”You’re a grown woman. A Hunter. You’ve neutralized things with more teeth than common sense. You say “Don’t wait up.” He says “Sure.” Then checks his phone every ten minutes like it's a heartbeat monitor and he's waiting to hear yours again.

4. “It’s fine if she flirts. I know it’s harmless.”You’re charming. It’s part of who you are. You wink. Smile. Lean in a little too close. Caleb plays it cool. Says, “She’s always like that.” Then grabs your waist in front of everyone and whispers: “Try that again, and I’ll fuck you so hard next time you won’t remember anyone else’s name.”

5. “She doesn’t need to say she loves me every day.”You say it once. In passing. A low little “love you” as you walk away, like it’s nothing. But he hears it like an oath. And that night? He holds your hand a little tighter. Pulls your body a little closer. Not because he needs to hear it again. But because if he doesn’t touch you, he might forget how to breathe.

5 Things That Make Him Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. Your hair falls in his face. Leaning over him. Stretching across the couch. Just close enough that it brushes his cheek like it has rights. You don’t even notice. But he does. Every time. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just breathes in and lets the world narrow to that one soft, smug part of you.

2. You chew on your thumb when you’re thinking. Not seductively. Not even consciously. Just a tiny bite to the edge of your nail while you’re mid-rant about your latest recon or trying to remember the name of a street vendor. It’s nothing. Stupid. Barely a gesture. And yet — he stares. Tracks it like a countdown. Fists flexing slow. Jaw tight. Because that mouth should never look that innocent.

3. You interrupt him when he’s cooking. He’s focused. Knife in hand. Half-distracted by heat and oil. And then you slide in behind him. Touch his lower back. Squeeze something you shouldn’t. Say “Smells good, chef,” with a grin that makes his whole spine forget how to hold. He curses. Tries to shoo you off. You lick something off his finger. And now dinner’s going to burn.

4. You try on his Fleet cap like it’s a joke. You lift it off the rack. Set it crooked on your head. Salute with two fingers and that smile that once made him fall off a training tower. “Colonel,” you say. And he’s gone. He should laugh. He doesn’t. He walks over, takes it off you slow, and kisses your temple like he’s reassigning you to a very different kind of mission.

5. You say “I’m yours”. Not in bed. Not in public. Just… casually. In passing. In that low voice you only use when something’s real. “I’m yours.”He looks at you like you just disarmed a bomb with your bare hands. And then he ruins you for saying it so lightly.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You’re the only one allowed to fly with him in his military jet.Clearance denied. Protocol says no. Regulations triple-confirm it. And yet — you’re in the co-pilot seat, boots up, fingers tracing buttons you’re not supposed to touch. He doesn’t stop you. Someone once asked why you get to ride with him when no one else does. He looked up from the cockpit and said, “She’s my gravity.” End of discussion.

2. You only need to place your hand on his to calm him down.No words. No pleading. No strategic de-escalation. Just your fingers, settling lightly over his, when something in him starts to coil too tight. And just like that — his spine eases. The heat in his eyes lowers by a degree. People have seen him end arguments with three words. They’ve never seen him go silent for anyone but you.

3. You’re the only person he’ll interrupt a briefing for.He’s mid-sentence. Room full of officers. Tactical projections glowing on the wall. His phone buzzes. He glances down, sees your name — and pauses. “Give me five,” he says. And walks out without waiting for permission. Someone once asked who it was. He said, “The only priority higher than this fleet.” No one asked again.

4. You walk in on his arm at the Farspace Fleet annual gala.He’s in dress whites. You’re in black. And the room — full of admirals, envoys, diplomats — parts like mist when you enter. He doesn’t introduce you. He doesn’t need to. You’re not just his date. You’re the one who makes him dangerous in silence. And everyone knows it.

5. You don’t need words to communicate.One glance. A tilt of your head. A tiny shift in posture across the room. He’s already moving. Already reading you like mission data. To others, it looks like magic. Intuition. Maybe telepathy. But for you two? It’s just muscle memory — built from years of almosts, nevers, and finallys.

5 Times Caleb Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He pulled the full personnel file on a man you once smiled at.You were being polite. Friendly. The guy asked something harmless, you laughed. By morning, Caleb had his record open on a secure datapad, scrolling like he wasn’t reading a life — just calculating the risk factor. You asked what he was doing. He said, “I like knowing who wants what’s mine.” And then kissed you like he hoped you never asked him to stop.

2. He showed up at your door at 02:03 AM. Soaking wet. Furious. Silent.You missed one message. One. He waited. Thirty minutes. An hour. And then something in him snapped. No threats. No drama. Just the sound of his knock like a warning shot. You opened the door. He didn’t speak. Just stared. And then pulled you in with a grip like survival wasn’t optional anymore.

3. He scared the hell out of a junior pilot for asking your name.The kid was fresh. Eager. Smiled a little too long. Said, “Hey, what should I call you?” You started to answer. Then turned — and saw Caleb across the room. Expression calm. Stance neutral. Eyes loaded. The pilot apologized before you even said a word.

4. He slammed his hand on the table when you joked about breaking up.Just a joke. A throwaway line. Something stupid like “Guess I’ll go find someone less intense.” And his hand hit the surface before the words fully left your mouth. Not loud. Not violent. Just final. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. Just looked at you like you’d put a knife in his ribs and smiled about it. You never made that joke again.

5. He called you “dangerous” — and meant it like a vow.It was late. You were arguing. You said something sharp. He caught your wrist and said it low, almost reverent: “You’re dangerous.” But not like an accusation. Like awe. Like worship. Like he’d already decided to stay, even if you wrecked him completely. Even if he’d have to protect the world from you. Or protect you from himself.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Zayne’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone else bandaged your scratch. Just a graze. A stupid piece of shrapnel across your forearm. A colleague wrapped it up. No big deal. You came home smiling. Told him it barely hurt. He nodded. Quiet. Then excused himself to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with antiseptic, clean gauze, and the words: “Take it off. I’m doing it properly.” You didn’t argue. Neither did he. 2. Someone at work lent you their umbrella. A man. It was raining. You forgot yours. He offered. You accepted. Zayne didn’t say a thing when you mentioned it over dinner. Just hummed. Neutral. The next morning, you found a new umbrella in your bag. Carbon fiber. Windproof. Labeled discreetly with your initials. You didn’t ask how he knew the exact weight your bag could carry without straining your shoulder. 3. You asked the waiter to recommend a wine. It was harmless. Polite. You were curious. But Zayne was sitting right there. He didn’t blink. Just looked at the waiter, then at you. Then took the list back. “Actually,” he said, calm as glass, “she prefers reds with less acidity. I’ll order.” You nodded. The waiter nodded. And somewhere between the clink of glasses, you realized that wasn't about wine at all. 4. You didn’t invite him to your morning training. He’d had a night shift. Surgery ran late. You wanted him to rest. So you left quietly. He woke up to an empty bed, your gym bag missing, and a silence that felt like a closed door. You came back to find his routine disrupted, his pulse still too fast — and a protein shake mixed just how you like it, chilled and waiting on the table. He never mentioned it. But now, if you decide to “let him rest” again… your training starts later. And doesn’t involve clothes. 5. You called another man “smart.” It was a game show. Trivia night. Some stranger on-screen made a clever move. You smiled. “Wow. That was actually really smart.” Zayne didn’t look up from his tablet. Didn’t even shift. But ten minutes later, you found yourself in a very precise debate about probability, strategy, and why that move wasn’t that brilliant after all. You didn’t argue. You just leaned closer. He didn’t smirk, but you felt it anyway.

5 Lies Zayne Tells Himself About You

1. "I’m just your cardiologist during exams." It’s clinical. Professional. Necessary. He listens to your heartbeat, takes your vitals, asks you to breathe deeper — deeper. You unbutton your shirt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t feel anything. Except for the part where he adjusts his gloves a little too tightly. And maybe takes one extra second to remove the stethoscope from your skin. 2. "Lunch tastes the same without you." He orders the same thing. Same café. Same tea. But the pastry tastes off. The space feels louder. The table — emptier. He tells himself it’s fine. Then brings the leftovers back to his office. Doesn’t touch them. Just leaves the box where your hand might find it later. 3. "I don’t need to pick you up." It’s logical. You’re a professional. Your job runs over sometimes. So does his. But your message was short. The streetlights are on. The buses are unreliable. He checks traffic cams. Weather. Public transit delays. Then sits very still, staring at his phone, wondering how to offer you a ride without making it sound like panic. 4. "I’m not checking. I’m sleeping." You once left while he was asleep. You thought it was kinder. Quieter. Now he says he “needed water” or “had a dream.” But every night, at 3 AM, his hand reaches. Just to feel your back. Your wrist. The smallest proof that you haven’t disappeared again. 5. "Short skirts are inefficient." He says they’re impractical. Not suited for cold weather. Definitely not for terrain with hostile wanderer activity. You raise a brow. He adds, “You’re not seventeen. Dress like it.” But the second no one’s watching, his hand is already sliding up your thigh under the table. And when you raise a brow at him, he just says, flat: “Checking for circulation.” You’re not fooled. He’s already failed the mission.

5 Things That Make Zayne Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You straighten his tie. You’re not thinking about it. Just reaching out, adjusting the knot, smoothing the line down his chest like it’s second nature. He stays still. Breath held. Eyes on your face. You step back. He doesn’t. Because now all he can think about is using that same tie to bind your wrists to the chair in his office — and how many minutes he can steal between appointments without compromising your breathing. 2. You dip your finger into the frosting of his pastry. You don’t ask. Just lean in, collect a bit of cream with your fingertip — and taste it. Oblivious. Innocent. Distracted by something else. He watches. Silently. And now the fork in his hand feels criminally unnecessary, because his mouth is dry, his mind’s gone blank, and he’s halfway to pulling you into his lap just to return the favor — with interest. 3. You take off your bra without removing your shirt. It’s casual. Automatic. You’re talking about your day, laughing, and then — One arm out. Then the other. The strap slides through the sleeve and vanishes into your laundry bag like it never existed. His brain glitches. His hands twitch. And he will absolutely spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen while picturing every technical step of reversing that maneuver with his teeth. 4. You imitate him. Badly. You’re wearing his lab coat. His glasses. Sitting at his desk, brows drawn, lips pressed tight. Your impression is awful. He should be annoyed. But instead — he watches. Sharp. Quiet. And when you finally laugh and start to take it off, he gets up. Takes the coat from your shoulders himself. And tells you, too evenly, “You forgot the gloves.” 5. You trace lazy shapes on his wrist while talking about something unrelated. You’re saying something about your neighbor’s cat. Something trivial. But your fingers are moving in a slow, absent pattern across his skin. And Zayne — who has operated on live hearts under pressure, who has held lives in one hand and death in the other — is currently struggling not to grab your wrist and drag you onto the desk. Because apparently, nothing in this galaxy has the precision impact of your fingertip.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You have a keycard to his office.Not a guest pass. Not a shared access code. A permanent, personalized, high-level card to a room most staff can’t even knock on without permission. You walked in one day mid-shift, casual, spinning the card between your fingers like it was a hairpin. Three nurses saw. One dropped her tablet. Rumors started before you even closed the door. Zayne didn’t correct them.

2. When he received a prestigious award, the first person he thanked was you.Best cardiothoracic surgeon of the year. Cameras flashing. Applause rising. Everyone expected a speech about innovation and responsibility. Instead, he said: “I’d like to thank the one person who keeps me alive enough to do this work. My partner. My favorite interruption.”Then he looked straight at you. The auditorium melted.

3. You’re both dressed like weapons. And everyone notices.He wears tailored coats, precision-cut collars, charcoal palettes like a tactical signature.You? Heels like blades. A suit that redefines “combat-ready.” And when you walk together — sharp, silent, side by side — people stop talking. Someone once tried to photograph you. The headline read: Unknown dignitaries arrive. Security does not comment.

4. You don’t argue. You duet.Someone crossed a line. Loud, drunk, smug. Zayne responded first — clean, cold, just one sentence long. The man blinked. Started to retort. You finished it for him. Elegant, sharp, no profanity required. He left. Fast. And you turned back to Zayne like nothing happened — while everyone else tried to recover from what could only be described as a linguistic orgasm.

5. He opens doors, buttons coats, and moves chairs like it’s instinct.Not performative. Not flashy. Just… precise. He adjusts your sleeve without thinking. Helps you into the car like it’s always been his hand. You barely register it. But the woman across the street? The one who saw it all from behind her coffee cup? She’s still texting her group chat about “the man in the long coat and the woman who ruined my standards.”

5 Times Zayne Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He gets live data from your heart monitor.Your Hunter’s Watch sends updates to the cloud. Zayne rerouted the feed to his private tablet. “Just in case,” he said. Now he knows when your pulse spikes. When you’re injured. When you don’t sleep. You never gave him access. You never had to. The first time he called mid-mission to say “slow your breathing” — you realized he wasn’t tracking. He was watching over.

2. He absolutely hates when you drive. Always.You're capable. Fast. Efficient. And yet — every time you take the wheel, something in him shuts down. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t protest. Just goes silent. And stares at the road like it personally offended him. He says, “It’s fine.” But he holds the dashboard too tightly for that to be true.

3. He freezes every time you say “I can handle it.”You mean well. You’re strong. You are capable. But when you brush him off with a casual “I’ve got this,” he doesn’t nod. Doesn’t smile. He just stops. Eyes unreadable. Hands still. And when you come back later — even fine — there’s already a backup plan on your datapad. Three versions. In color.

4. He never replies to emotional messages right away.You send: “I miss you. A lot.” His read receipt appears. Then… nothing. For two hours. And just when you start to spiral — he sends a photo. Of your favorite pastry. Waiting on his table. With one word: “Soon.” You hate how well it works.

5. He spoke to the man flirting with you like he was reviewing his autopsy.It was harmless. A drink. A joke. A compliment. You laughed. Zayne didn’t. He stepped in, shook the man’s hand, and said: "Tell me, has anyone ever checked your prefrontal lobe for impulse control irregularities?"The man left. Quickly. You rolled your eyes. Zayne didn’t apologize. He just took your hand. And changed the subject. Completely calm. Fully satisfied.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Rafayel’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone comments “🔥” under your photo — and you like it.He sees it. Of course he does. He sees everything. You think it’s harmless. He thinks it’s appalling that someone dared mark your beauty with an emoji better suited to grilled meat. He says nothing. But that night, you get a charcoal sketch of yourself in your favorite pose, signed with a tiny flame in the corner. When you ask about it, he hums. “Oh, just honoring your admirers’ creative input.”

2. You linger too long in front of another artist’s painting.Not just glance. Linger. Eyes soft. Head tilted. That thoughtful little breath you take when something moves you. He stands beside you, perfectly still. Smiling. Then leans in and whispers, “Cutie, if you start weeping, I may need to challenge the gallery owner to a duel.” You're not sure if he’s joking. You’re also not sure you want him to be.

3. You talk about a beautiful place you visited… without him.You’re glowing. Describing the light, the air, the view. He listens, nods, even asks questions. Then: “And did the sun taste the same without me there?” You pause. He smiles, all charm and cheekbones. “I’m just wondering how it dared rise, knowing we weren’t together.”

4. You send him a photo — and there’s someone else’s hand in the frame.You didn’t notice it. He did. He stares at the image like it’s a crime scene. Zooms in. Later, he replies: “Beautiful composition. Fascinating use of background tension. Would love to discuss the symbolism of that wrist — whose is it?” You laugh. He doesn’t.

5. You say some actor is “exactly your type.”He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just goes very still, then casually asks, “Before or after makeup?” Later, you find your datapad background changed. It’s him. In perfect lighting. Shirt unbuttoned just so. The caption reads: “Still unsure who your type is? Look into my eyes. You’ll remember.”

5 Lies Rafayel Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t paint you. It’s just resemblance.”He insists it’s a study of emotion. A symbol. A face from memory. But the tilt of the head, the mouth, the birthmark near the collarbone — they’re all yours. You ask, teasing: “Is that me?” He blinks. Smiles slowly. “Cutie,” he says, “I wouldn’t paint you without permission.” And then changes the subject. Very deliberately.

2. “I don't reread your old messages.”He’s far too elegant for that. Far too composed. Except on quiet nights. On long flights. In museums where the silence scratches at his skin. Then he opens the archive. Just for the rhythm of your words. The accidental poetry. The way you once wrote “come home soon” like it meant more than time and place. He says it’s for “emotional reference.” He lies beautifully.

3. “I don't watch your mouth when you talk.”He’s an artist. A visual thinker. Of course he looks at faces. But not like that. Not at yours. Not like he’s memorizing the shape of every syllable just to feel them later against his throat. Not like he’s fantasizing mid-conversation about shutting you up with his tongue and tasting the sentence off your lips. No. Never. He’s listening.

4. “I haven’t memorized your scent through every season.”He claims not to notice. But he knows the spring version of you — soft rain, citrus skin, the aftershock of lilac. He knows the winter version — leather gloves, cinnamon breath, quiet wool. He doesn’t name them. Doesn’t chase the memory. But when you walk past — his eyes close. Briefly. Automatically. Like he’s gathering air before going under.

5. “I don't imagine your name with mine.”He’s not that romantic. Puh-lease. Marriage is a construct, surnames are politics, and love is beyond paperwork. He says all that with a flourish. And yet — there’s a notebook. Tucked under his mattress. Full of signatures. Yours. His. Just to see how it would look. Just in case.

5 Things That Make Rafayel Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. When you eat something juicy. Fruit. Fingers. With zero awareness.You bite into it slowly, distracted. Something sweet. Ripe. Juice glides over your lower lip, and your tongue follows without thinking. He watches, motionless. Not breathing. Not blinking. You glance at him. He tilts his head. Smiles. Says lightly: "That peach is about to become my personal enemy." You laugh. He doesn’t. He’s too busy wondering how it’s possible to be jealous of the fruit.

2. When you kiss his hand instead of his mouth. He leans in, expecting lips. Contact. Heat. And instead — you take his hand. Press a kiss into his palm. Soft. Deliberate. His breath catches. His throat tightens. Because that wasn’t affection. That was submission. And now he’s wondering just how far you’d let him take it. 3. When you tease him with your voice. Not the words. The tone. The whisper. You say his name like silk sliding over glass. You ask “You think so?” like it means “prove it.” You laugh — not loudly, but just enough to make his chest hurt. He could diagram it, break it into sound waves, prove the seduction in math. But instead, he just steps closer. And says, low: "Say that again. Slower." 4. When you sit on the floor, barefoot, flipping through his sketches — looking like you belong there. You’re humming something. Knees tucked up. No shoes. No guard. You tilt your head, study a piece, murmur: “I like this one.” He doesn’t even remember drawing it. He just remembers the way your hair spills over your shoulder and how the studio feels suddenly too small for how much he wants you. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He just watches like a starving thing. Memorizing the moment in case he dies of it later. 5. When you say “more.” In any context. “More sugar.” “More time.” “More.” That’s all it takes. One syllable. One open door. You never mean it the way he hears it — but he takes it as a promise. Like permission. Like a match tossed onto something already too dry to survive. And the next time he touches you? He makes damn sure you say it again.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. He painted a self-portrait — with you reflected in his pupils. Not your full form. Not a shared composition. Just his face. Direct gaze. And in both eyes: you. Looking at him. Always. When the painting debuted in the gallery’s main hall, critics called it “a study in obsession.” He called it accurate. 2. In an interview, he said you’re the only one who gets his sketches. The host asked who his work goes to first — gallery, agent, press. He smiled lazily and answered, “Her.” The room stilled. “The raw ones. The incomplete. The brutal drafts no one else deserves to see.” He didn’t say your name. He didn’t have to. The moment he said it, you were already trending. 3. He delayed his own exhibition opening because you weren’t there yet. The venue was full. Lights ready. Guests murmuring. But he stood at the entrance, fingers laced behind his back, perfectly calm. “She’s on the way,” he said. “She had a prior engagement.” No one questioned him. Later, when you finally arrived — graceful, composed, in a deep sapphire gown that matched the evening — only he noticed the tiny scratch on your knuckle. The faintest shadow of something darker, just beneath the perfume. You smiled. He took your hand. And the doors opened like they’d been waiting for you all along. 4. Someone flirted with him. He looked at you. Then said: “I’m already spoken for. Permanently.” It was charming. Playful. Someone touched his wrist, laughed softly, leaned a little too close. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t react. Just turned his head toward you. Found your eyes. Then said it — quietly, cleanly, like a closing signature on a finished masterpiece. 5. At a charity auction, he sold a painting titled: “Painted Between Her Breathing and Mine.” The crowd didn’t know what to do with that. Some laughed nervously. Some applauded. The bidding started high and ended astronomical. But as the winning guest walked past you, holding the canvas with reverent hands — he still glanced back. At you. As if to say: That canvas holds the image. But I keep the original.

5 Times Rafayel Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He can disappear for three days and return with, “I just needed to stop being jealous.” No warning. No calls. Just silence, like he fell off the planet. You panic. Rage. Rehearse five speeches. And then he walks in — composed, scented like night air and oil paint. “Sorry,” he says softly. “I was being irrational. Had to… recalibrate.” You want to scream. Instead, you breathe him in like he’s home. 2. He destroyed the career of a critic who called your photo “poorly lit.” It wasn’t even a real insult. Just a throwaway line in a blog. But Raf read it. Once. And within a week, that critic was blacklisted from three galleries, publicly corrected by five curators, and accidentally misquoted in a viral controversy. You found out much later. He just looked at you and said, “No one calls shadow a flaw when it falls across you.” 3. He faked an illness so you wouldn’t leave for a mission. Nothing dramatic. Just a cough. A warm forehead. You hesitated. Postponed. Stayed. The next morning, he was radiant. Healthy. Annoyingly smug. You narrowed your eyes. He only shrugged, kissed your wrist, and whispered, “I needed one more night. Forgive the performance.” You did. Of course you did. The guilt felt almost like foreplay. 4. He left your clothes wet in the wash so you’d wear his shirt instead. Accident, he claimed. Timing. Cycles. But somehow, your entire outfit was still in the machine — cold, damp, and useless — while his favorite linen shirt lay folded neatly on the bed. You put it on. He watched you button it. And smiled like he'd won a silent war no one else even knew was happening. 5. He reads your messages without asking. Calmly. You know it. He knows you know. He doesn’t deny it. Just traces your jaw one evening and says, “You don’t hide anything from me. That’s why it doesn’t count as intrusion.” And the worst part? He’s right. You stopped hiding a long time ago.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Xavier’s Obsessed With You

1. You nap on the wrong side of the bed.You nap on the wrong side of the bed. Not wrong, exactly. Just… not his. You’re curled up in the late-afternoon light, peaceful, quiet, unaware. He doesn’t wake you. Doesn’t move you. But when you stir, there’s a weight in the silence. His side of the bed is untouched. Pillow perfectly aligned. No warmth. No scent. And your blanket — tucked just a little tighter — like a quiet reminder that even when you’re here, something’s missing. Something he’s not sure how to ask for without sounding ridiculous. Like: your perfume. On his pillow. Where it should be.

2. You tell him about a dream. Someone else was in it.You describe it absently. A mission. A flash of danger. And a man — not him — at your side. He listens. Nods. Doesn’t blink. But that night, when he kisses you, his hand stays on the back of your neck longer than usual. And his mouth says I want you, but his grip says: you don’t forget me, even in sleep.

3. You keep something old, worn, unnamed.A keychain. A patch. A folded slip of paper. Nothing dramatic. But it’s always near. He asks, once: “What is that?” You smile. “Just something from a long time ago.” He nods. Never brings it up again. But two days later, he leaves something else beside it. Not to replace. Just to match the weight.

4. You let the barista choose your drink instead of him.You smiled. Said “sure, why not.” Took the new coffee without hesitation. He was beside you. Holding your usual. You didn’t notice. But when you left the café, his own drink sat untouched. And he walked a little faster. A little quieter. As if recalibrating the fact that maybe someone else knows your taste. Even if it’s just in coffee.

5. You close your laptop too fast when he walks in.“Just a movie,” you say. Too quickly. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t tilt his head. Just nods and sets his gloves on the table like he didn’t notice the flicker in your tone. Later, while checking your tabs, he sees the paused frame — teeth on skin, hands holding wrists, someone begging. Silently. His breath doesn’t change. His expression stays neutral. But when he finds you, hours later, he doesn’t speak. Just pins your arms above your head and kisses you until you can’t remember what the scene looked like — only what it felt like when it became real.

5 Lies Xavier Tells Himself About You

1. “I’m not jealous of whoever taught you how to fight like that.”He knows it doesn’t matter. It’s skill. It’s history. Efficiency passed from one warrior to another. He tells himself it’s irrelevant. But when he watches you move — precise, lethal, beautiful — something coils in his chest. Not because of the technique. But because someone else saw you become this version of yourself. And he didn’t.

2. “It’s logical to sleep apart sometimes.” You need rest. Space. Post-mission decompression. He understands. It’s healthy. Statistically sound. But the first night you say “I’ll sleep in my own apartment,” the bed feels wrong. His internal balance off by degrees he can’t quantify. He tells himself it’s fine. Then stares at the ceiling for hours, heart syncing to a rhythm that isn’t there.

3. “It doesn’t bother me when you keep things to yourself.” You’re independent. He respects that. Boundaries are natural. But you say “I’m fine” with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, and he catalogs ten micro-expressions that say otherwise. Still, he nods. Doesn’t push. Then replays your words in his head for the next three days, trying to solve you like a puzzle that refuses to open.

4. "I could walk away, if it ever came to that." He tells himself he’s rational. Detached. If you chose something else — someone else — he would adapt. But deep down, he knows: he’s already memorized your weight in his arms, the way your name fits inside his silence. If it ever came to leaving… he wouldn’t walk. He’d stay exactly where you left him. Quiet. Waiting. Ruined.

5. "You wouldn’t lie to protect me. Would you?" You say “it was nothing,” “I’m just tired,” “I handled it.” And he accepts it. On the surface. But his mind starts building alternate versions. Safer ones. Worse ones. Ones where you bled and said nothing. He tells himself you’d never hide real danger. But he still checks your vitals in the logs. Every time.

5 Things That Make Xavier Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You walk in wearing a bright yellow duck kigurumi. Absurd. Fuzzy. Zipped up wrong. You yawn, mumble something about tea, and pad across the room like comfort incarnate. He looks up. Blinks once. And forgets what he was doing. The beak hood. The bare ankles. The way you scratch your neck, half-asleep. None of it should be seductive. But now he can’t look away. His gaze tracks you like threat assessment — only it's not danger he’s calculating. It’s proximity. Access. How long he can pretend he's unaffected… before you end up against the wall. Still wearing the duck. For now.

2. You adjust the chest plate of his armor. No rush. Just fingertips over matte metal, sliding a buckle, pressing a clasp. Your hands linger longer than they need to. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. But he does. He’s counting your seconds, your pressure, the exact placement of your thumb. If anyone asks why his next shot missed the center by half an inch, it’s because you touched him like a secret no one else was allowed to see. 3. You peel off your combat gloves with your teeth. It’s efficient. Quick. Practical. But the way your mouth closes around the strap and your fingers flex once, twice, before they’re bare — He’s staring before he knows he is. Processing nothing but the curve of your jaw and the memory of that same mouth around his length. The second glove doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does he, honestly. 4. You wear a thin black choker. No explanation. No warning. It’s not part of your gear. Has no field utility. But it’s there, snug against your throat like a promise no one else knows about. He sees it once and looks away. Sees it again and swallows too hard. The third time, he doesn’t look at all — he just shifts in his seat like everything in his world needs immediate recalibration. 5. You say “later” when he leans in. Just a little. Enough to feel the pull. And you smile, soft, apologetic, not teasing — just... not now. He nods, like he understands. He always does. But from that second forward, every calculation, every breath, every cell in his body becomes attuned to the moment you say now. And when you finally do — he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He just takes, like patience was never part of the equation to begin with.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You moved in perfect sync — without saying a single word. In the training hall, you didn’t say a word — but moved like a mirrored code. You shifted, he adjusted. You reached, he passed. No signals, no commands. Just two bodies in absolute sync. Someone watching whispered, “Do they rehearse this?” Someone else muttered, “No. That’s just them.” And suddenly, no one wanted to spar with either of you. 2. Someone called him “too quiet.” You didn’t let it slide. It was a throwaway comment —“He’s so silent, it’s weird.” You didn’t even look up from your drink. “Then you’ve never heard him breathe next to you.” The room went still. Xavier didn’t react. But you felt it — how he went still too, the way his attention locked fully on you. As if your words changed the temperature. 3. He braided your hair for three weeks while your wrist healed. At your desk. Between reports. No comments. No hesitation. Just practiced hands and quiet efficiency, like it belonged in the schedule. And maybe it wasn’t romantic. Or loud. But after that, no one ever looked at you the same way — because somehow, without trying, the two of you had redefined what closeness looked like. 4. You didn’t ask for his jacket. You didn’t have to. A shift in the wind. Goosebumps on your arms. No complaint, no drama. He just stepped behind you, slid his cardigan onto your shoulders like it belonged there, and said nothing. The couple walking by paused. Stared. You didn’t. You were already reaching for his hand. 5. There’s a photo of you on his desk. Just you, caught mid-laugh, in natural light. Among tactical reports and encrypted drives. He never explains it. Never acknowledges it. But everyone who enters that room sees it. And no one ever asks if he's serious about you. They already know.

5 Times Xavier Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He monitors your meals like it’s a clinical trial. “You didn’t eat enough protein today.” “That pastry had no nutritional value.” “Are you hydrating?” He says it softly. Calmly. Like a doctor. Like someone who cares. And yet — you’ve seen him survive three days on black coffee and whatever snack bar was closest to his hand. You mention this once. He pauses. Then says, “That’s different. I’m used to operating under stress. You’re not.” End of discussion.

2. He didn’t argue. He made the argument disappear. You disagreed about something small. Nothing dramatic. Just opposing views. He didn’t push back. Just nodded, quiet. Said, “If that’s what you think.” Later, you realized the entire issue — schedule, person, condition — was gone. Resolved. Removed. Replaced. No apology. No discussion. Just silence... and a solution that left you with nothing to win.

3. He never asked where you’d been.Not once. Not even after you were late. Not even when your message came hours too late. He didn’t accuse. Didn’t guess. He already knew. Tracked your path, logged your signal drift, checked your pulse history. All without a word. And still held the door open when you arrived.

4. He always calls via video when you’re in another city.He never misses a day. Never just texts. Always video. He says he likes seeing your face. That it “grounds him.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe. But every time the screen lights up, you notice how carefully his eyes scan the room behind you. How his voice sounds different if there’s movement. How he never quite hangs up until you say, “I’m alone. It’s quiet here.” Only then does he relax. A little. Maybe.

5. You told him, “Sometimes, you scare me.” He said, “Good.”It slipped out. Low. Uncertain. Not a joke, not an accusation — just the truth. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t soften. Just met your eyes and said, calm as ever, “Good. Then you’ll stay alert.” And for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was warning you… or protecting you from something only he could see coming.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Sylus’s Obsessed With You

1. You didn’t tag him. He made sure the world knew anyway.You posted a photo. Cute. Stylish. Perfect lighting. But no mention of him. No tag. No trace. He reposted it within minutes. Same photo. New caption: “Correction: mine.” It got five times the reach. And suddenly, everyone knew better.

2. Someone else made you laugh. Sylus didn’t.The waiter was charming. A little too witty. You laughed — loud, unfiltered. Sylus just raised a brow, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man $2000. “For your last night in customer service,” he said. He smiled. You choked on your wine. The waiter never came back.

3. You called some man a friend. Sylus ran a background check.“He’s just a friend,” you said. Lightly. Barely thinking. Sylus smiled. Tilted his head. “I’m just a man with access to his tax history.”And that was the end of that conversation.

4. You said another man had a nice voice. Sylus gave you no air.It was innocent. Harmless. “His voice is kind of nice.” Sylus said nothing. Just waited. That night, he read you poetry in three languages, one line at a time — mouth against your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs — until you begged him to stop. Not because you wanted him to. Because you physically couldn’t take more.

5. You forgot to wear his ring. He didn’t forget anything.It wasn’t intentional. You were rushing. Distracted. But he noticed. Of course he did. He said nothing all day. Then, that night — when you were breathless, undone, on your knees — he took your hand, kissed your finger, and slid the ring back into place. Slowly. Deliberately. Like sealing a deal you forgot you signed.

5 Lies Sylus Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t pick your outfit to match mine. Must’ve been the stylist.”It was just coincidence. That your lipstick matched his cufflinks. That your dress followed the same line as his collarbones. That when you walked in together, people paused — like royalty had arrived. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at you once. And didn’t look away for the rest of the night.

2. “I’m not furious that I wasn’t your first.”He says it doesn’t matter. Shrugs. “I’m not a teenager.” And yet, the thought of someone else touching you before him? It coils in his chest like smoke that won’t clear. He tells himself you chose him now — and that’s what counts. But the next time you moan his name, he fucks you hard enough to make sure no one else’s ever mattered.

3. “I don’t answer your messages instantly. I’m just always holding the phone.”He just… saw it. Right away. Just happened to be holding his phone. Just happened to pause mid-meeting, mid-deal, mid-war — to write: “Be safe.” You tease him for how fast he replies. He teases back. And never mentions the part where your name makes him drop everything.

4. “I’m not obsessed with the way you say my name when you’re annoyed.”You do it without thinking. That exact tone. That breath. That syllable dipped in heat. He rolls his eyes. Says, “What now, kitten?” But every time it happens — he shifts closer. Hears it again later in his head. And stores it next to the version you whisper when you want him most.

5. “I wouldn’t beg. If it came to that. …But only for you. And only once.”He’s not that man. He doesn’t plead. Doesn’t bend. But when he thinks of you leaving — really leaving — something dark and fragile coils behind his ribs. He tells himself he’d let you go. That he wouldn’t chase. But even in the lie… he’s already halfway down the hallway.

5 Things That Make Sylus Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You ask him to zip your dress. Then don’t wear anything underneath. It’s casual. Innocent. “Help me?” You turn your back, lift your hair, and wait. He moves slow — almost reverent. But when his fingers meet bare skin where silk should be… he doesn’t finish the zip. He turns you around, steps in close, and says, “You came dressed for trouble. Good. So did I.” 2. You say “don’t be gentle” with a smile that promises you’ll say it again, louder. He always controls the pace. The heat. The rhythm. But when you lean in, lips brushing his ear, and whisper those words — something in him fractures. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He doesn’t give you time to change your mind. He just obeys. And makes sure you feel the echo for days. 3. You use his tie to pull him into a kiss. He likes power. Centered, composed. Collar straight, voice cool. But when you grab that perfect silk tie, wrap it around your fingers, and yank — he stumbles into you like a man starved. You kiss him once. He kisses you back like vengeance. 4. You say “yes, sir” in a tone that means the opposite. You drawl it. Sweet. Defiant. Like you know exactly what it does to him. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t smile. Just leans in, voice low against your throat, and says, “Keep using that tone, kitten. Let’s see how long you last when I take it seriously.” You don’t last long. Not that night. 5. You put on his ring and ask, “So what does this buy me?” It’s a joke. Almost. You twirl it on your finger, playful, reckless. He watches. Then smiles slow, wicked. “That?” he says, stepping closer. “That buys you a night where I don’t stop until you forget your own name.” And just like that, you do.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. The earring incident at the casino. You dropped it. Somewhere between the blackjack table and the bar. Nothing dramatic — until your face shifted. That quiet flicker of loss. Sylus didn’t sigh. Didn’t scold. Just raised a brow. And a dozen seasoned criminals began crawling across the velvet floor. They found it in twenty minutes. You wore it for the rest of the night. He wore the look of a man who’d moved the world back into place. 2. The arrivals are always his favorite part. You come back from missions — tired, sore, alive. And there it is: his sportscar. Engine humming. He’s waiting with a bouquet of roses so rare you don’t recognize half the species. The entire terminal watches. You don’t. You’re too busy smiling. He says, “Welcome home.” And just like that, the war disappears from your shoulders. 3. The seat at the head of the table. It was a high-stakes meeting. Old money. Dangerous names. Sylus led you in by the hand — then pulled out his chair. You blinked. He said nothing. And while you sat at the head, calm and poised, he stood behind you like a king who knows exactly where real power sits. No one even dared raise a brow. 4. The auction. Your hand. His silence. He gave you the paddle. Not instructions. You bid on instinct — numbers rising, tension thick. The item? A rare protocore with blackout-level clearance. Sylus didn’t flinch. Not once. And when the gavel dropped — he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “You can spend my money however you want, kitten. Just make sure they see you doing it.” 5. The moment the room lost him to you. It was mid-negotiation. Tense. Crucial. Every word counted. But across the table, your fingers tapped. Your eyes glazed. You were bored. Sylus watched. Then stood. “Deal’s done,” he said. “You’ll take our terms.” And somehow, they did. Because the only person in the room whose attention he wanted — was already drifting.

5 Times Sylus Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He knows what’s in your delivery before you do. No one told him. But every time you order something — clothes, tech, vitamins — it’s re-screened. Not stopped. Not blocked. Just… “verified.” You only noticed when your favorite moisturizer showed up improved. New formula. Better scent. Hand-selected. Of course. 2. He said he’d put you on IV if you skip another meal. You were busy. Distracted. He asked what you’d eaten. You said, “Does coffee count?” He laughed. Once. And muttered something about installing a medical station in your apartment. He was “joking.” Until you saw the discreet courier bring an IV stand the next day. Just in case. 3. He took you to dinner at a place you hadn’t been since Academy. You didn’t realize where you were — until you saw your ex across the room. The one who cheated. Sylus just smiled. You were in a dress that made people stop breathing. He ordered champagne. Lobster. Left a four-digit tip. And made sure your ex saw everything. Including the way you kissed Sylus on the way out. 4. He froze your accounts. Just to prove a point. You said you didn’t need his money. You insisted on “independence.” So he waited until your card declined at the pharmacy. Then texted: “You have my black card. Use it. Or stay home.” You gave in. He sent flowers. 5. He apologized like a storm front. You fought. It was ugly. The next day, a gift arrived at HQ. Then another. Then six more. By day four, your car was full. You marched to his door, furious. He opened it, leaned against the frame, and said, “Took you long enough. Come yell at me. I’ll pour the wine.”

6K notes · View notes

a-mint-bear · 5 months ago

Text

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 / 3 ]

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that.

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet.

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore.

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options.

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room.

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit.

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself.

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower.

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options.

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing.

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy.

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment.

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon.

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing…

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him.

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear.

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention.

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit.

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance.

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way.

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did.

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him.

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep.

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder.

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer.

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat.

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp.

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless.

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck.

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part.

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad.

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint.

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

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gracieheartspedro · 8 months ago

Text

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep.

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you.

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar.

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos.

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot.

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you.

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often.

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance.

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification.

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again.

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel.

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome.

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not.

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic.

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed.

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked.

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do.

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you.

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in.

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year.

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left.

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him.

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing.

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection.

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you.

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you.

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night.

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now.

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed.

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified.

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town.

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.”

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms.

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle.

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter.

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy.

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across.

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..."

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him.

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you.

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you.

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly.

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful.

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him.

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him.

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.”

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it.

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him.

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over.

“Whatever, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live.

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them.

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen.

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move.

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer.

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time.

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor.

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond.

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking.

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard.

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning.

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word.

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here.

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him.

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt.

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals.

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom.

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off.

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water.

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud.

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest.

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore.

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point?

His body was on fire, thinking about you.

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you.

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud.

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!”

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy.

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?”

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing.

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates.

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences.

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you.

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies.

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first.

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful.

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back.

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time.

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way.

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans.

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body.

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance.

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then.

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan.

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter.

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core.

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself.

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming.

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you.

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress.

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance.

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his.

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight.

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming.

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes.

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half.

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile.

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring.

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself.

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking.

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to.

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose.

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #tlou au #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #fic: for cryin’ out loud #the last of us smut #gracieheartspedro

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

#spilled ink #warm up #4/10 #loved this interaction with them tho i have to be honest.

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jincapableoflove · 4 months ago

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A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 10.2K+

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

MOODBOARD

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

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

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

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

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

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

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

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

Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The box was almost full now.

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

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

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

His eyes smile before his lips do.

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

I love him.

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

Especially not Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped. "What?"

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

Silence.

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

"You WHAT?!"

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

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

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

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

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

Empty.

It was gone.

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

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people… Jungkook.

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

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

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

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

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

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

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

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

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

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

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

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

But you swallowed them down.

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

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

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

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

That was the plan.

It had to work.

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

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

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

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

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

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

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

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

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

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

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

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

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

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

Oh. Oh no.

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

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

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

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

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

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

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

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

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

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

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

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

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

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

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

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

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

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

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

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

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

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

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

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

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

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

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

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

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

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

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

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

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

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

Your stomach twisted.

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

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

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

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

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

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

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

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

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

The thought makes your chest ache.

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

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

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

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

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

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

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

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

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

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

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence settled between you both.

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches in your throat.

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

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

You’ve already been replaced.

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

It isn’t.

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

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

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

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

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

You wait for him after class.

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

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

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

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

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

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

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

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

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

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

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

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

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

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

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

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

And then you sense someone else's presence.

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

Jungkook.

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

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

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

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

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

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

Just like that.

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

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

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

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

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

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

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

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

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

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

February 10th. Your birthday.

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

Surely.

So you wait.

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

Not even a single text.

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

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

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

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

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

It’s from your parents.

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

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

There was still time.

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

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

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

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

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

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

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

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

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

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

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

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

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

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

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

Great. Just great.

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

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

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

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

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

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

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

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

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

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

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

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

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

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

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

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

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

You have to move on.

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

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

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

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

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

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

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

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

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

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

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

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

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

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

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

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

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

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

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

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

You miss it.

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

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

Then the doorbell rings.

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

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

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

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

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

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

Where have you seen something like this before?

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

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

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

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

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

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

Your mind starts spiraling.

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

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

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

With bated breath, you pull one out.

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

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

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

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

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

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

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

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

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

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

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

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

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

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

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

"I lied."

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

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

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

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

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

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

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

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

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

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

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

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

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

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

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

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

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

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

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

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

And that terrified him.

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

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

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

The library.

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

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

A jar.

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

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

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

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

He had been writing to you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, you finally know.

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

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

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

Your chest tightens.

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

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you see him.

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

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

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

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

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

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

Then, barely above a whisper, “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Because I was a coward."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Say it now," you whisper.

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

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

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

"Y/N…"

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

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

"I love you."

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

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shiftingas if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

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

It had been another perfect night one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar, the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

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buckiverse · 5 months ago

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☆ warnings: mdni, this is literally just a cock analysis for sylus, zayne, and caleb

☆ a/n: SYLUS HOLD MY HAND—CALEB IS ABOUT TO DRAG ME AWAY!

rafayel and xavier ver.

S8GSBTV - #b0685a

As we all know, Sylus is tall, with a broad, muscular frame and an imposing set of shoulders. He’s strong—insanely strong. The man boxes, for god’s sake. I would hate to take a liver shot from him; he might accidentally send me straight to the afterlife. He’s in phenomenal shape, with stamina to match—because, of course, it’s a requirement for his sport.

And his cock? Well, it follows suit. A solid eight inches (20.32 cm), and yes, he’s a shower. I mean, have you seen that perfect print in his pants??? He doesn’t even know where to put all that. It’s big—long, thick, girthy. No wonder he has a size kink. And let’s be real, so do you. The stretch is delicious, always leaving you working to take him all the way.

The head? A deep, rich brown (go look at the hex code <3). His pubic hair? Trimmed, but left a little longer—just how he likes it. And side note? He loves when you do the same. Says he wants to "explore the jungle." Oh, and let’s not forget: it’s straight and a slightly darker gray than his hair. Perfection.

And the veins—the veins. His cock is thick with them, pulsing, prominent. The most sensitive part? That sweet little slit. Run your tongue along it, and he will hiss, grip your hair, and growl something like, “Don’t do that unless you want me to come in your mouth, kitten.”

And, of course, you’ll keep doing it anyway. Hehehe.

Z7LSLCGBPLT - #9C524F

As we all know, Zayne is tall, with a lean yet well-built frame and broad shoulders. He’s strong—moderately muscular—but more refined in his strength. Being a doctor, he has a natural responsibility to stay in shape and take excellent care of himself.

And his cock? It follows suit. A solid seven point three inches (18.542 cm), and he’s a grower. The print in his pants might be deceiving at first, but don’t be fooled—it’s big. Not just long, but with an ideal girth. The best part? It leans slightly to the left, and when he’s inside you, he knows how to move his hips just right, angling to hit that perfect, sensitive spot.

The head? A beautiful brownish pink. His pubic hair? Trimmed low—because he understands the importance of keeping some. He’ll never go completely bare, and honestly? He prefers when you don’t either. And yes, it’s perfectly straight.

Unlike some, his cock isn’t overly veined—but what it lacks in texture, it more than makes up for in sensitivity. The head? Insanely responsive. Pull back his foreskin, drag your tongue along his frenulum, and just like that, he might lose control—maybe even come all over your face.

C7GGPTV - #DF9796

As we all know, Caleb is tall, with a lean yet powerfully built frame. He’s easily the most muscular of the bunch—his body honed to perfection. Being a fighter pilot demands peak physical fitness, not just for endurance but for absolute control in the cockpit.

And his cock? It follows suit. A solid seven inches (17.78 cm), and he’s a grower. The print in his pants might not always give it away, but trust—it’s big. Long, with just a bit more girth than average, making every inch of it something to savor.

The head? A gorgeous pink. His pubic hair? Trimmed low for convenience, though he’ll go completely bare if that’s what you prefer. Naturally, though, he keeps it neat, with a slight, loose curl to it.

And let’s talk about that vein. A single, prominent one that runs up the length of his pretty shaft—one he loves when you trace with your tongue. Oh, and let’s be clear—he’s uncut. Don’t care, won’t argue on that point <33

☆

btw this is what the codes mean (excuse my behavior because now that I actually typed it out i realize how crazy i look rn):

S8GSBTV: sylus-8inch-girthy-shower-brown-trimed-veiny

Z7LSLCGBPLT: zayne-7inch-left slant-long cock-grower-brownish pink-light trim

C7GGPTV: caleb-7inch-grithy-grower-pink-trimed-veiny

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dollyyun · 5 months ago

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BACK TO YOU ✧ L.HS

SYNOPSIS ✧ interesting things happen ever since the guys came back from the tour that leads to you finding out a possessive side to your boyfriend, but it doesn’t bother you the way his relentless teasing does, practically edging you. yet, you know that it is only a matter of time until he caves in to his temptation, but will you be able to take everything what he promised you during your video call two nights ago?

PAIRING ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader GENRE ✧ idol au, dynamic between characters (with enha members), fluffs, soft and sappy moments, soft love, loverboy heeseung, little (no) plot WARNINGS ✧ reader is needy, (are we even surprised), reader whines and whimpers a lot (same), jealous-possessive!heeseung, softdom!hee, meandom!hee, sub!reader, unprotected sex(no!), rough sex, pure filth at some point (i hope), eventual love making, dirty talks, praise kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, degradation, spittings, hair pulling, making out, lots of kissing, dry humping, fingering, choking, pussy and tit slapping, oral (f&m rec.), cum eating, clit stimulations, nipple play, bondage (uses of restraint), creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, aftercare, heeseung is so fucking in love WORD COUNT ✧ 24.9K (my bad)

A/N ✧ no actual serious plot but lots of yapping and badly written smut, idc either fw it like i do or don’t. also i fear idol bf!hee agenda is becoming a serious business for me….anyway may or may not have pt 3 with bf! heeseung and redacted.

PREV PART | SERIES MASTERLIST

Your knuckles are taut with tension as you grip the paper bag tighter, waiting anxiously for the elevator to reach the correct level of their dorm. Your heart palpitates as soon as the elevator chimes open, leaving you no choice but to advance while your eyes are fixated on the familiar matte black door, but your steps remain tentative, as if you are nervous of meeting them for the very first time.

This is stupid, you think as you mentally berate yourself for this abrupt reluctance of yours. It isn’t that you didn’t wish to meet them when you were the one who zealously accepted your boyfriend’s offer earlier to have dinner with him and the guys, but you feel this odd sense of jitters all over your nerves, probably because it has been quite some time since you were in the presence of your boyfriend’s teammates. You admit that sometimes you feel intimidated by some of them, but the butterflies in your tummy are unmistakable at the thought of your very attractive boyfriend to the point where you feel the urge to throw up.

“Woah, down girl.” You mutter to yourself, or rather, to your excited pussy that is fluttering just by the thought of him as you look down, biting back a groan at the sensation of your clit throbbing faintly.

You huff lightly, finally stopping in front of the door, but instead of pressing on the doorbell, you decide to do another check on your appearance, hoping that you look decent enough since you were in a hurry when you were making your way back home from work, adorned in a cute long-sleeved ruched lace top that complements the beige jacket hanging on your frame and a pair of flare denim jeans that accentuate your upper curves.

As it turns out, the guys finally touched down earlier today in the morning instead of nighttime, according to your boyfriend, who immediately called you to check in with you, like he always does whenever he comes back from a tour or any event. You couldn’t lie about the tiny disappointment you felt when he told you that he would be returning to his shared dorm with Jay, Sunghoon, and Riki. As for the other guys, they’re sharing another dorm, which is located below the other members’, and it is the one you are currently at.

The living arrangement with Heeseung isn’t that complicated — as your relationship progressed over the years, he began living with you at your apartment often, but during comeback season, he would stay at his shared dorm with the guys since it would be more convenient. You grew accustomed to his absence, of course, since you understood that it was part of his job and that it’s the reality of dating an idol, but each absence eventually formed a hole in your heart.

You sigh softly. shaking your head lightly at the sudden melancholia. You decide to press on to the doorbell, only to realise that the door is ajar, and so you slowly push open the door, a wave of familiarity hitting you as you enter the shared apartment of Jake, Sunoo, and Jungwon, since dinner will be held at their place instead. You bend down to remove your shoes.

Just as you take steps forward, your eyes are latched onto a passing tall figure who instantly stops in his tracks, his once-stoic face beaming with recognition and delight, which brings a smile to your lips. You can barely utter a greeting to him when he takes one long stride and engulfs you into a warm, friendly hug with his long limbs.

“You’re here!” Riki exclaims, still locking you in a bear-crushing hug that has you wheezing lightly, but nevertheless you reciprocate with equal eagerness, missing the younger one whom you’ve always seen and treating him like your brother. It takes a tap on his back from you to be conscious of his strength, causing him to release you. “Oops, sorry. I forget how tiny and fragile you actually are.”

You feign taking offence at his remark with a disbelieving gasp, your eyes shooting glares at his cheeky yet smirking countenance playfully. “I most certainly am not tiny. You’re just too tall!” You retort, huffing lightly when he sticks his tongue out at you in return. “Anyway, I bought you guys some desserts, if that’s alright.” You inform as you show the brown paper bag in your grasp.

Earlier, you decided to make a quick detour at the bakery since you didn’t want to come empty-handed despite Heeseung telling you that they would be ordering in. Plus, you know that the guys are huge foodies.

Riki’s eyes light up like a kid receiving presents on a Christmas morning. “It’s more than alright. Thank you, shorty.” He pats your head as he grabs the paper bag from you before dodging your attack quickly just when you are about to smack him.

But your attention is soon drawn to another familiar face that greets you with a dimpled smile as he ambles towards you. “You’re right on time. The food arrived minutes ago before you came.” Jungwon tells you before he welcomes you with a hug, squeezing you lightly.

“We missed you!” Sunoo exclaims behind you before joining in the hug, eliciting a groan from you at the impact of being sandwiched between them. But you reciprocate the hug from them anyway, having grown accustomed to their clinginess to you.

“I missed you guys too. Now let me breathe.” You say breathlessly, earning mutters of ‘sorry’ from them before they release you. You look at them with a fond smile, examining the lines of exhaustion on their faces despite their smiles. “How was the tour?”

“It was fun, but we’re so glad to be back home.” Sunoo informs you, watching you as you busily remove your jacket, to which he offers to hang it at the side rack, and you give him a smile of gratitude in return.

“Hyung is in the living room.” Jungwon informs you just as you follow them to the route of their kitchen, but his words never register in your head as your attention is now directed to the three guys who you share the same age with, prompting you to halt your steps.

The amiable atmosphere is replaced by something foreign this time, your senses being on high alert for some reason, as though your instinct is able to detect potential dangers in charming disguises ahead of you.

Jay is leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, a lazy smirk etched on his countenance. Sunghoon is next to him, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other is occupied with his phone as he stops scrolling midway, his cold demeanour unreadable. Jake is leaning against the kitchen island with a wolfish grin on his lips. Their eyes fixated on you with an enigmatic but unmistakable intent.

You offer them a smile, ignoring the sudden awkward tension that feels palpable enough for you to be cautious of your next move. Despite knowing them for three years, you still find it hard to get along with them. Not saying that there is any bad blood between you and them or that you have never gotten along with them at all. It’s just that there is a lack of a close bond compared to the bond you have with the maknae line.

However, this time, you notice how their eyes seem to be examining you with indecipherable emotions, but at the same time, looking as if they know something you don’t, and you have no idea exactly what, or maybe you are just reading into it deeply. Still, you can’t shake off the feeling as though they caught you committing a blasphemous act.

A movement of another figure, the one you had keenly anticipated, captures your attention. Your eyes easily meet his dark ones that slowly drink you in, eliciting a reaction from your pussy that flutters and your clit throbs on instinct, but you hold back from pressing your thighs together to suppress the arousal. You decide to distract yourself to quickly scan his appearance, adorned in a black leather jacket that covers his white top, and when your eyes linger on his belt, you imagine yourself pulling him to you by the belt before kissing him hard on the lips, and his hair, God, he looks so good in a mullet.

When you return to meet his gaze again, you nearly melt into a puddle just by the intensity of his dark eyes alone, a soft smirk unfurling on his pink, kissable lips as he notices the familiar hunger glinting in your dreamy eyes. Good, because he feels the same way too — the primitive need to devour you as you look deliciously gorgeous, most especially the predatory urge to claim you in front of three specific individuals who are still eyeing you like a bunch of ravenous wolves studying their innocent, bunny prey.

“Hey, baby.” Heeseung greets you with a familiar affection that makes you feel giddy on the inside, but he gives you no opportunity to return his greeting when he pulls you by the arm and engulfs you in a hug — a very much-needed hug that you eagerly reciprocate, your arms latching around his broad back.

You blink back the tears that begin to accumulate in your waterline, feeling immensely relieved and happy that your lover has returned to you. You decide to pour your pent-up emotions into the hug, your arms tightening around him with such desperation, as though you fear he would disappear again. Heeseung smiles softly, hearing the not-so-discreet sniffles from you while your body trembles in the security of his hold.

You don’t mean to be melodramatic, but you really can’t help it. “You’re back. You’re really back.” You croak out, your hushed voice breaking in between your utterance that mirrors the way his heart breaks at the raw vulnerability you let slip between the cracks of your strong facade. You desperately cling onto him, and you can’t even bring yourself to care that you are still in the presence of his teammates, only focusing on him and his warmth that envelops you like a safety blanket.

“I’m back, sweetheart.” Heeseung affirms, his tone an addicting mellow that you want to listen to all day and night. His arms tighten around your body, being careful not to suffocate you but firm enough to ground you to this delicate moment. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry for leaving you again, sweetheart.” He continues to whisper in your ear affectionately, his voice remaining a steady lull while his hand cradles your head with his fingers massaging your scalp tenderly.

You continue to bask in his warmth with your face pressed into the nook of his neck, inhaling his familiar cologne that makes your head dizzy in a good way. Eventually, the tension in your nerves dissipates, and you begin to go lax in his arms, practically melting into him and enjoying how secure you feel being in his dependent arms. You hear him inhaling sharply when the tip of your nose grazes lightly against his skin.

“Let me take a look at your pretty face.” Heeseung murmurs, his hands go cradling your face and forcing you to meet his eyes. Your breath hitches at the closeness between your faces, being hyperaware of his teammates in your presence, but he spares no concern to them as he continues to look at you as if you’re his whole universe, completely enamoured by you. “My pretty baby. The prettiest girl ever, and she’s mine.”

You are taken aback by something dark that shadows his once soft countenance, as though he is possessed by an alter ego you have no idea existed, and the dark undertone of possessiveness in the way he speaks is not lost on you. “Hee—”

Your word is barely a whisper when Heeseung slams his lips into yours, wasting no time in claiming your lips that he had always dreamed of kissing every night on the bed alone, and he can’t even give a fuck that there are eyes watching this intimate moment between two lovers, knowing that he is doing this on purpose to let them know that he’s the one who you’re kissing so passionately as you reciprocate.

The kiss feels searing, all-encompassing enough to melt any worries from your mind as well as painting the background in a blur, and it hurts so good in the way his lips feel bruising as he kisses you hard, deepening the kiss that sends familiar signals to your now-throbbing clit. In the fiery exchange of your kisses, you loop your arms around his neck while he locks his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him than you already are.

“I’ve *smooch* missed *smooch* you *smooch* so *smooch* fucking *smooch* much.” He mutters in between kisses while the wet noise of his lips smacking against yours is conspicuous. You mewl into the kiss, your brain going mushy at the passion of his kisses as though you are his oxygen. He is ravenous, utterly insatiable, but you can feel the love and affection he’s pouring into the kiss.

Soon enough, the intensity of your passionate exchange dwindles, followed by an intervention of a grating cough that is loud enough as it slices through the air for Heeseung to grasp self-control. He sighs lowly against your lips while you can feel his annoyance before he pulls away from you, rendering you disappointed as you swallow down a needy whine.

“We’re still here, you know?” Jake’s tone of mischief prompts you to look over to the three men, who remain unmoving from their prior position. A boyish grin smears across Jake’s face as he continues to look at the two of you, but a fleeting look of something passes by his eyes before you can even decipher it.

“Go on. Reek of the living room with your disgusting lovefest.” Jay remarks snidely with sarcasm lacing his tone. Usually, you wouldn’t feel affected by his remark as he has teased you before, but this time, you feel a pang of hurt by his sharp tongue. You don’t even dare to spare a glance at him, feeling his dark gaze penetrating into you that makes you squirm lightly.

When your eyes accidentally meet Sunghoon’s icy ones, a wave of embarrassment washes over you at the realisation that they have been watching your heated lip-lock with your lover for who knows how long. Your face flushes warmly before you choose to bury your face into Heeseung’s chest, instinctively snuggling into him while he strokes the back of your hair tenderly and his other arm remains locked around your waist.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist my girl.” Heeseung sounds anything but apologetic, and you can discern a taunting smirk on his lips in the way he speaks. “You know how much I’ve been missing her and all.”

“Oh, we know that much.” Sunghoon speaks up this time, his icy voice sending involuntary shivers down your spine, but you are sharp enough to catch onto the double meaning of his words, or maybe you’re just reading into it deeply again. “Might want to consider toning down the excessive PDA since we still have kids present.”

You can feel the sudden tension that mounts rapidly between your lover and his teammates, eliciting a confused frown from your lips. The way Heeseung’s arms tighten around you feels taut, as though he is more than pissed off by their remarks. When you slowly lift your head to see your lover, he has his focus directed to them, displaying his handsome side profile to you.

Yup, he’s mad, and you know your man rarely ever gets mad unless it’s some serious shit that is on an astronomical level. His whole facade looks disconcertingly calm, completely tamed, but lethal. You can see the anger in the way a muscle pulses in his jaw as he clenches it, rendering you aroused at the wrong time. Just how fucked up it is when you really want him to be mad at you just like that while he fucks his anger into you.

Yet, you can’t help but wonder what exactly the 02z did to piss Heeseung off when you know it yourself that they would sometimes tease him the way they did earlier. You have a strong inkling that they had done something that felt personal to him.

Before anyone can speak, Sunoo captures their attention, his voice mollifying the palpable tension in the air. “Excuse me? We’re not kids, thank you very much. Mind you that I’ve watched things that are not very kids’ friendly.” He sounds very much offended, but it is enough to draw a soft chuckle out of you.

Their heads, including your lover’s, turn to you simultaneously as soon as the heavenly sound leaves your lips, but instead of being self-conscious of their collective attention on you, the smile on your lips widens, giggling as you watch Sunoo throwing daggers at Sunghoon with his fox-like eyes before giving him his iconic dirty look.

“You’re so fucking adorable.” Heeseung can barely contain the cuteness aggression he has towards you, his fingers gripping your chin firmly to get your attention on him instead. He presses his lips into yours once more as you gasp softly into the kiss, mewling when he faintly bites down on your bottom lip yet in a playful manner. “My gorgeous girl. My angel baby.”

You nearly melt into your lover again when Jungwon intervenes this time, forcing you to break the lip lock. “Alright, lovebirds, enough of that. The food is still warm, so get your asses over to the dining table before it gets cold.”

Heeseung sighs softly in disappointment, but mischief glints in his eye before he leans in to give you a peck on the lips, eliciting another giggle from you. He begins to usher you to the dining table with his hand sliding down to tuck in the back of your jeans so casually as he has you glued to his hip, not that you minded.

“You know, this leader thing of yours doesn’t work on me.” You tell Jungwon rather sassily as you walk past him while the unfamiliarity of your bold cheekiness earns eyebrow raises from some, knowing that this side of you is only reserved for the maknaes.

“But it got you moving.” Jungwon retorts with a smirk on his face while you head towards the table. He makes a face when you stick your tongue out to him. “You act more childishly than I do. Geez, are you sure you’re older than me?”

“Nah, she’s not. She’s also a shorty, remember?” Riki adds as he makes his way to his seat next to Jake, high-fiving Jungwon along the way, his input earning a disbelieving gasp from you.

“Wait till I get my hands on you brats—” You don’t even get to finish off your sentence when Heeseung pulls you down to sit next to him, firm in the way he handles it but careful enough for you not to trip.

Amusement dances in his eye while a smirk twitches on his lips, seeing your sulky countenance with a small pout forming on your kissable lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can teach the kids a lesson or two about treating elders with respect after dinner. I’ll help you.”

“Hyung, you’re supposed to be on our team!” Riki exclaims, feigning hurt and betrayal with a dramatic gasp while you roll your eyes at his usual theatrics.

“And for the last time, we’re not kids!” Sunoo sighs exasperatedly, who is seated next to you, but his whine of disapproval is disregarded by your lover.

“You must be crazy to think that I wouldn’t be on my girlfriend’s team.” Heeseung tells him bluntly, multitasking in filling up your plate with the choices of food of your liking while his natural instinct to provide for you first has you preening silently. “Plus, my girlfriend is always right.” He ends off with an affectionate kiss on your crown, nearly eliciting a satisfied purr from you.

The guys collectively emit sounds that express their derision and disgust, which you know is meant to tease the two of you like they always do, but you can’t help but discern how genuine some specific individuals express. You decide to ignore them and focus on filling your empty stomach.

Throughout the dinner, the guys break into separate conversations while you eat silently, enjoying and savouring the delicious food, until they eventually drift to the same topic regarding the tour concert and their overall experience. Even the tension between Heeseung and 02z has dissipated, as they seem amiable with each other. They also include you in their conversation, sharing and telling you about their experiences enthusiastically, and you give reactions and your input whenever appropriate.

That is until you begin to feel distracted when Heeseung places his hand on your thigh, his fingers being dangerously close to your core that eventually pulsate with need as he occasionally squeezes your thigh. You try not to squirm as you continue to keep up with their conversation, but it gets harder when all you can think about is his fingers going knuckle-deep into your cunt right here and now.

You finally cave in when you press your thighs together, only to be surprised when he uses his hand alone to force your leg part open until the side of your thigh is glued to his. You take a glance at Heeseung, in complete disbelief at how casual he looks as he continues to converse with Jake and Riki.

You narrow your eyes at him as he ignores you, bringing out an annoyed huff from you before you shove another boneless chicken into your mouth, hoping that the delectable garlic flavour is enough to distract you from his hand that remains squeezing your thigh tantalisingly every so often. He’s definitely teasing you, knowing how easily you can get wet because of his hand on your thigh alone, or any part of your body for that matter.

After what feels like an agonising eternity, his hand finally leaves your thigh, allowing you to regulate your uneven breathing by how delirious you were going in your head. You focus on the view in front of you, watching in amusement as the guys engage in a game of rock, paper, scissors. Of course, they would do this since each of them hates doing dishes the most.

“It’s okay. I’ll do the dishes instead.” You interject with a soft chuckle as you slowly rise from your chair, giving in to the pity you have for them, as currently, Jungwon and Sunghoon managed to win against them.

“No!” “It’s fine!” “Sit your pretty ass down!” is all you receive from them in an aggressive manner that elicits another amused chuckle from you, though you don’t miss the last rather flattering remark from Jay.

Just before you can insist again, a yelp leaves your lips when an arm easily locks around your waist to pull you down, finding yourself seated on Heeseung’s lap. Your heart pounds harder in your chest at the closeness between your bodies, and this marks the third time that Heeseung is displaying such intimate affection in front of the guys when he has never shown this much affection to you in their eyes throughout your relationship years, as he is the type to reserve this much affection for you behind closed doors.

“Hee, it’s okay. I can do it.” You tell him, only to feel his arm around your waist tightening in response, depriving you of any means of escape to bestow your generosity to the rest.

“Stay put, baby. You know that you are not included in this stupid game of ours.” Heeseung chides you softly, his tone carrying an undertone of warning that has your clit throbbing. You let out a huff but obey him anyway, though a part of you wants to rebel against him, desiring to find out what would happen afterward.

Eventually, the loser has been chosen, drawing applause and cheers from the other guys while you roll your eyes at their antics, but above all, you manage to wrench yourself out of your lover’s hold and quickly put some distance away in any case he decides to snatch you again, because as much as you love the idea of Heeseung being all touchy with you, your needy pussy is unable to take the prolonged heat any longer.

“I need to use the loo.” You inform him in a rush, not bothering to wait for his response as you bolt for the bathroom in the main hall.

Once you reach inside, you close the door and lock it, making your way over to the hand basin to wash your hands that are trembling just slightly from having to suppress the heat in you. You honestly feel like an animal in heat, desperately needing him to do something to your pussy that is nearly soaked by your own arousal. You look in the mirror to adjust any untidiness in your appearance before mustering the courage to go back out there.

Maybe you can’t completely avoid your lover, but you can definitely evade any of his wits and not indulge him for the sake of your own sanity. Only you know how badly horny you are at the wrong time. Besides, you can’t just go up to him and tell him to fuck you in their dorm here.

You feel like you’re a burglar, your head peeking out of the door to scan the area, noticing the 02z lounging in the living room, whereas Sunoo and Jungwon head into their respective rooms. No sign of Heeseung, suspiciously enough.

You don’t waste time in making your way to the kitchen with the intention to lessen Riki’s burden as you feel pity for him since he must be exhausted from the flight earlier. You instantly spot the giant maknae by the sink with his back facing you. As you get closer, you can hear a string of his grumblings that makes you smile.

“Let me help.” You speak up, startling him before he turns to look at you with hopeful eyes, but at the same time, he seems hesitant.

“It’s okay. Hyung would be mad if he finds out that you’re the one washing the dishes.” He says lightly, his lips forming a small pout.

“It’s really okay, Riks. I can finish washing the dishes fast. Besides, you’re such a slowpoke.” You tease him, wanting to allay any hesitance you can see in his eyes.

Riki breaks into a grin before he quickly washes his hands and dries them off. “You’re the best, you know that?” He gives you another gratitude with a kiss on your crown and a side hug, earning a soft smile from you at the normalcy of his unexpectedly friendly affection for you.

You pull up the sleeves of your top till your forearms before proceeding to handle the leftover dishes effectively. Too focused on completing your task, you fail to heed a certain someone approaching you from behind so stealthily. Just when you finish drying your hands, strong arms snake around your waist before he pulls you to him abruptly, your back hitting his chest.

Your heart palpitates at the sensation of his warm lips pressing into your skin before he leisurely litters soft kisses on the side of your neck. “Why do I feel like you’ve been trying to avoid me?” Heeseung murmurs in between kisses.

“I’m—” You pause, going slightly breathless when his lips on your neck feel sensual, causing your clit to throb familiarly while his arms locking around your waist feel as though you are trapped in his hold, unable to free yourself off him. “I’m not.”

Heeseung smirks against your skin, chuckling softly that sends shivers down your spine. “Who’s the bad liar now, baby?” He nips at your skin gently before pressing his hard-on into your buttcheeks, allowing you to feel his prominent bulge that has you whining softly.

“You’re so mean.” You mutter, but remain lax in his arms as you melt against him, enjoying the closeness more than you intended. “You’ve been teasing me since dinner.”

Heeseung stops assaulting your neck, making you frown at the loss of his addictive lips, only to be taken aback when he turns you around to face him. Your head spins at the escalation, and you barely have time to process when he lifts you by the waist and places you on the countertop. Before you can close your legs, he slots himself in between them, forcing your eyes to meet directly at his eye level.

“How exactly have I been teasing you?” He questions, raising his eyebrow attractively with his dark eyes penetrating into yours that you can’t help but to look away, unable to handle his oozing dominance that he imposes on you. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You whimper, forcing yourself to look at him again and heeding the natural instinct of being submissive to him. He leans into you, his hand placed on the counter right next to you while the other gravitates to your chin to hold it firmly with the padding of his thumb stroking your bottom lip sensually. You part your lips while your eyelids go hooded, feeling breathless at the lack of space between your bodies.

A soft smirk unfurls on his lips, his dark eyes drinking in your every nuance as he is more than aware of how much he is affecting you. “I asked you a question, baby.” His tone sounds deceptively mellow, and you fight off the urge to arch your back needily. “How has daddy been teasing you?”

Oh, fuck me. “You were teasing me with your hand on my thigh throughout dinner.” You tell him in a soft whine, your eyes glistening with unshed tears that derive from your unbearable neediness. “It was mean, daddy. You were mean.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, biting back a groan at how sensually needy you are with your glossy eyes giving him the ‘fuck me’ look, similar to the way you looked just a few nights ago during your video call. “You have to elaborate, sweetheart. Why do you think that was mean?” He hums, his hand travelling to your waist to hold you.

“Because it got me so wet.” You confess in a whimper, watching as his eyes darken at your words. You have no idea what comes over you, but you dart your tongue out and lick the padding of his thumb before biting it down sensually, noticing how primal he looks while his hand on your waist tightens. “Wanted daddy to finger me back there.”

Heeseung doesn’t hold back a lustful groan, shocking you by how gravelly deep his timbre sounds. His thumb falls from your lips, drawing a disappointed whimper from you, only for him to pull you by the waist roughly until your core is being pressed into his bulge that you swear you can feel it growing bigger.

Before you can utter anything, Heeseung presses his lips into yours, kissing you hard while you grind your clothed cunt against his hardened bulge. His hands fall to your hips that are moving sensually under his touch, eliciting a groan from him before he deepens the kiss, pouring his desire and love for you in the way his lips move against yours with urgent passion. Your hands go winding in his hair, tugging at the strands that send him a pleasurable sensation.

“Can’t believe how needy you are for daddy. So fucking needy.” He grunts in between the kisses, getting sensitive with each hard stroke of your clothed cunt on his cock that is raging beneath the slacks. His hand moves to your round bum, giving it a tight squeeze that has you moaning into the kiss. “Getting wet just by daddy’s touch.”

“It’s been too long, daddy.” You mutter against his hungry lips as you arch your body into him, your tits pressing into his chest. “I missed you so much.” You whimper, holding him close to you with his body warmth engulfing you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He utters against your parted lips, allowing you to gasp for air from the intensity of his kisses. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, a juxtaposition to how he was kissing you hungrily. He marvels at your beauty, your lips being nearly swollen and your pretty eyes gazing at him with such desperation. “You’re so pretty, baby. Can’t believe I left my pretty baby all alone.”

Heeseung captures your lips again, swallowing your airy moans as you continue to grind on his bulge with an insatiable need. “I’m never leaving you alone again. Too fucking pretty to be left alone.” He growls in between kisses that resonate deep in your core, prompting your lips to part open for his tongue to invade your hot cavern, licking every inch and meeting your tongue in a dance of intoxicating sensuality.

You feel drunk, falling languid at his encompassing dominance over you, falling dumb despite his cock not being inside of you right now. All you know is the overwhelming desire to be consumed by his kisses, by him. The obscene sound of your lips smacking against each other’s, your tongues lapping each other wetly, the airy moans that escape you, and his very attractive grunts and groans amplify your need for him to take you right here and now despite his present teammates could literally walk in on you at any moment.

Heeseung slides his hands under your top, essentially lifting your top that reveals your skin. The warmth of his palms on your back sends shivers through you as he continues to travel upward, relishing the texture of your skin under his touch. Your clit is throbbing frenziedly as it is being pressured by his bulge pressing directly into it.

“I need more, daddy.” You manage to utter in between the kiss, mewling when he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that hurts so good, springing tears to your eyes. Your fingers find their way to his ears, caressing and fiddling with the metal piercings and loops adorned on his earlobes gently.

Heeseung pulls away from the kiss, rendering you turned on even more when the string of his saliva remains connected to your lips. He can’t resist the way you look, nearly ruined by his lips alone, and kisses you again, his tongue licking the residual of your saliva on your bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the pillowy plumpness.

You moan softly, enjoying the prickling pain of his teeth digging into your plump lip as he tugs and pulls it away just slightly, teasing you as more needy whines and mewls escape your parted lips before he leans forward and thrusts his tongue into your mouth, completely insatiable.

“Daddy will give you more soon, pretty baby.” He murmurs against your wet lips before pulling away to trail his hot, open mouth kisses down your neck. “Fuck, you smell so good.” He rasps against your neck, sending you shivers when the tip of his nose grazes tantalisingly on your skin. “Daddy just wants to eat you up.”

You whimper in response, your head lolling to the back, prompting you to bare your neck to his lips that proceed to litter his kisses and bites all over your skin. Sensing how weakened you are, his palm presses on your back under your top while the other cradles the back of your head, supporting your weakened body caused by his encompassing allure and not wanting you to pull a strained muscle from the way you continue to arch your whole body into him.

Your eyelids flutter closed with mewls and soft moans leaving your lips that go straight to his raging cock as he occasionally grinds into your aching core that has you spreading your legs further apart. The sensation of his lips kissing and sucking your skin, his teeth grazing and biting down on your skin to leave a mark, has your head dizzying while you can feel your pussy now soaking with your arousal.

But you are immediately pulled out of your lustful haze when you spot Sunghoon entering the kitchen as he makes his way to the fridge, not even sparing a glance at the two of you. Getting self-conscious, you attempt to push Heeseung by the shoulders, but he continues to assault your neck, the explicit sound being patent enough that no doubt reaches Sunghoon’s ears.

“H-Heeseung—” You whisper, attempting to push him by the shoulders again, but you receive a disapproving grunt from him before he sinks his teeth into your skin for good measure, eliciting an involuntary mewl from you. You swear you can see how Sunghoon bristles by the sound of yours just as he retrieves a bottle from the fridge.

“Hee, we should stop.” You whisper weakly, only to be silenced by his lips as he kisses you hard, uncaring that his teammate remains lingering in the kitchen as he drinks his water leisurely, or rather, teammates.

“Mine.” Heeseung grunts against your lips, his voice resounding enough that it reaches their ears as they note the unmistakable claim over you in his dark undertone while you remain oblivious to the tension that brews between him and them once more. “All fucking mine, pretty baby.”

“Yours.” You mewl into the kiss, nearly surrendering yourself to his strong allure once more until you are alarmed by a cough, prompting you to pry away from his insatiable lips successfully this time.

You turn your head to the side, feeling dreadful that the three of them are now present in the kitchen. Their demeanour differs from each other — Sunghoon being nonchalant as if he didn't walk in on your heated make-out session, Jay with an unreadable expression on his face as he leans sideways against the wall by the kitchen entryway, Jake with a wolfish grin as though he has been watching from the start. Yet, you don’t miss the way their eyes collectively fall to your swollen, parted lips as you gasp softly for air, and you finally gain full awareness of how your lower body is still being exposed to their eyes by Heeseung’s hands underneath your top.

You try to pull down your top, but his hands remain obstinate, displaying more than a sliver of your skin to his teammates on purpose for reasons beyond your comprehension. You look at Heeseung with diffidence cloaking you, earning you a smirk from him before he leans in to kiss you sensually in front of them.

“You might want to consider taking it to Jake’s room.” Jay speaks up, his tone is anything but friendly, which brings a sense of dread to you as you break the lip lock. “No one wants to see you fucking her in the kitchen.”

“Not my fucking room.” Jake scoffs at Jay in disbelief, but when his eyes flicker to yours, they darken with mischief and an unmistakable lust that sends you a wave of mixed emotions, above all, pure confusion, but maybe you are mistaken. “Oh, don’t stop on our account. We were quite enjoying the free show you put on for us.”

Your face flushes warmly with sheer embarrassment as you quickly look away to focus on your lover, only to be baffled at how Heeseung seems unbothered by the fact that his teammates had been watching the two of you being erotically intimate once more.

“Enough with the teasing. You’re making my girl feel flustered.” Heeseung tells them without tearing his gaze off your shyness as you look down at your hands. You slowly lift your head up when he gently grabs your hand, his features now softening with the familiar affection. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

Your heart warms at the word ‘home,’ but you can’t bring yourself to lift a smile on your lips as your arousal remains pooling in your core from the aftermath of your heated session that was unfortunately interfered with by them. You frown, feeling a bitter resentment in your chest, not satisfied by their interruption even as Heeseung now pulls you with him towards the door.

If Heeseung has noticed how sullen you have become ever since you left their dorm, then he is surely good at feigning indifference, now seated in the passenger seat of your car, whereas you control the wheel and the other functions methodically, driving to your shared apartment with him, but also feeling rather uncomfortable by the slick of arousal staining your pussy folds that you can feel sticking to your panties.

You look at him from the corner of your eye, noticing his collected demeanour, completely different compared to the raw hunger contorting in his features earlier in the kitchen. You grip the steering wheel tight, suppressing the incessant need that is throbbing in your core.

“You were being different earlier.” You speak up, wanting to abate the tension only you can feel, but your tone remains soft, an addicting velvet stroking in his ears. Of course, you decide to bring up the topic that has been lingering in the back of your mind — how oddly possessive he was in front of his own teammates, who are more than aware that you are off-limits.

“How so?” Heeseung asks, and you can’t help but notice how disingenuous he sounds, as though he knows it himself and the ulterior motives he had up his sleeves earlier.

“I just felt that you were being weirdly possessive in front of them.” You mutter, speaking tentatively as if you fear that he might feel offended by your words. You see the way he is looking at you with an unreadable expression. You sigh softly. “What I’m also trying to say is that you have never done anything like that in front of them, Heeseung. Kisses and hugs, yes, but never anything like that.”

You steer the wheel, now entering the parking lot basement where your apartment is situated above it. You receive brief silence from him, leaving you to wonder what goes on in his head. “I’m sorry if my words offended you. I just want to know why—”

“I couldn’t help it. I had to show them, let them know that you’re off limits.” He interjects, his tone remaining mellow but sharp enough for you to note the dark undertone of his jealousy. “I had to remind them that you’re mine.”

Your pussy flutters on instinct, to which you cough lightly as you quickly try to find an empty lot to park your car. “I don’t understand. I’m clearly taken by you, and I thought they knew and respected that.”

You hear him sighing deeply. “They knew what happened two nights ago, when we were on a video call.” He finally reveals the truth, causing you to nearly falter just when you are about to do a reverse parking. “They heard us. They heard you.”

“Oh.” You can only utter, feeling numb by the whirlwind of complicated emotions within you. You don’t even know what to feel — dread? horrified? embarrassed? You look over to Heeseung briefly, who is studying your face carefully, before you skilfully do a reverse parking. “How did they know? I thought you had the room all to yourself?”

“Apparently, the walls were thin, and the room I got had a door that led directly into their room. They were sharing a room while I got a whole room to myself.” He explains, his fingers brushing through his hair in frustration. “I accidentally left the door ajar, and the volume was loud enough for them to hear you.”

“So you’re upset that they heard me, I get that.” You say softly, your hand reaching for his and holding it tenderly while he seeks comfort in your touch. “But I don’t understand why you’re being all jealous. It’s not like they saw me.”

“Didn’t you notice the way they looked at you? They looked like they wanted you, and they were basically eye-fucking you.” He counters with a certain bite in his tone, making you falter as you slowly retract your hand from his, but he is quick enough to grasp your sensitivity as he grabs your hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He sighs before placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s okay.” You reassure him softly, your eyes meeting his, and for the first time, you see how insecurity swirls in his irises. A frown pulls at your lips. “You know that I would never leave you for anyone, Hee.”

“I know, baby.” He murmurs against your skin, continuing to kiss the back of your hand, which makes your heart flutter greatly. “I’m just being stupid, letting my emotions get ahead of me.”

“No, you’re not. I would be the same way if I were in your shoes.” You tell him firmly but soften again when his Bambi eyes meet yours. “I love you, Lee Heeseung. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

“Damn right, you do.” He smirks softly, his usual confidence returning to his once-disheartened spirit. He presses another kiss to your hand. “You’re mine, and mine alone, sweetheart.” And you would love nothing more than to be his forever, to be claimed by him over and over again.

It isn’t long until you finally settle in your shared apartment, waiting for your lover, who is brushing his teeth in the bathroom while you lie on the queen-sized bed. A part of you feels keenly anticipatory for him to continue where you left off, but when he joins you in the bed, you turn pouty as you observe how sleep is taking over him quickly, his features going soft and his muscles relaxing.

You can feel your neglected pussy weeping for attention from him, but nevertheless, you proceed to spoon him, your arms cradling around him while he buries his head into your chest with his hands underneath your nightgown to feel your warmth.

Still, sleep does not come easy the way it does with your lover, your mind reeling from the heated session that happened earlier.

Despite experiencing some difficulty lulling yourself to sleep, you surely did sleep well enough to the point that you couldn’t even feel your lover disappearing from your arms, and for the first time, instead of worrying whether or not you are late for work, you find yourself stricken by a dreadful fear when you wake up to an empty space next to you, as though he doesn’t exist.

The whirlwind of emotions manifests in the unsteady rise and fall in your chest, and your mind is in a disarray of chaos, rendering you incapable of grasping little of the sanity left in you. Your breaths are coming out short and breathless while your chest tightens painfully from a profound anxiety.

Tears prick in your eyes. Maybe you are being melodramatic, but you fear that whatever happened last night was your imagination and that your boyfriend is still having a tour in another country, miles apart from you. Or maybe he left you to fulfil his duty again.

Without thinking twice, you wrench the duvet from covering your legs and abandon the bed before bolting for the door and swinging it open, completely blinded by the intensity of your emotions going haywire while you feel an incoming downpour of your emotions within you.

“Hee?!” You call for him, your tone lacing with such desperation and your eyes darting everywhere as you search for him in any room, any corner. You choke back a sob as you stumble into the empty living room. “Heeseung!”

“Sweetheart?”

You have never turned around to the sound of his voice as fast as you do now, your frantic eyes meeting his sweet ones as they scan your distressed countenance, bordering on hysteria. At once, a wave of assurance washes over you, allaying your frazzled emotions, but there is a niggling fear at the back of your mind that makes you doubt whether or not your boyfriend is indeed real.

Heeseung, who has been observing you worriedly despite the confusion, takes quick strides forward, gravitating towards you as the pain contorting in your face alarms him. “Hey, hey, I’m here.” His mellow voice is carefully measured.

Shaky breaths leave your quivering lips, your chest tightening painfully with anxiety. “Oh my God, I thought that you—“ You feel out of breath, as though something is wrapped around your throat, constricting you from articulating your tangled emotions.

Heeseung places both hands on your shoulders, his warmth compelling you to meet his firm yet encouraging eyes. “I need you to breathe for me, baby.” He instructs, and you do so, trying your best to regulate your emotions that have been reigning over your breathing pace while your eyes never leave his.

Once you feel calm enough to be coherent, you finally allow the tears to spring up in your eyes, your vision blurring with each blink. “I thought you left me again.” You reveal your worst nightmare to him, your voice breaking as you lack the resolve to remain strong in his eyes. “I thought last night was a dream.”

You must sound stupid, acting as if you’re a child who had just woken up from a terrible nightmare, but you fear the possibility of him leaving you. Not only the thought of him leaving you for work abroad dreads you, but also the fact that he’s a popular rising star with many golden opportunities being offered to him, including being surrounded by very attractive people, and you fear him losing interest in you since compared to his idol-like peers, you are just an ordinary woman and have nothing special to offer him.

Insecurity begins to creep up on you, but it vanishes as soon as Heeseung cradles your face tenderly with the warmth of his palms, offering you a familiar comfort. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here, and I’m very much real.” He says so gently that it brings out a sob from you.

Alas, the tears cascade down your face like a waterfall despite trying to hold yourself back from breaking down in front of him for the second time. You try to pull away from him, not wanting him to look at your pathetic state, but he remains unyielding before embracing you with his arms and tucking your head in the nook of his neck.

Just like that, you melt against him, leaning dependently into him as you continue to pour out the emotions that imploded within you. “I’m sorry.” You manage to utter in between sobs as you hug him tighter, needing to feel his warmth deeper to ground yourself in the moment and know that he is real.

“You have nothing to apologise for, remember?” He reminds you gently as he coaxes you with his hand cradling the back of your head and his fingers massaging your scalp affectionately. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Instead of responding, you continue to weep, prompting him to embrace you tighter while kissing your crown and whispering sweet words to you. Eventually, your cries dwindle with hiccups occasionally leaving your lips, eliciting an inaudible whine of embarrassment from you as you bury your face into his shoulder.

Heeseung finds himself lifting a smile at how adorable you actually are despite the immense guilt tugging at his heartstrings. Seeing how you easily break down due to finding him missing from the bed, it worries him to a higher degree now as your attachment to him goes deeper than he thought, and he wonders how you would handle his absence the next time. Still, he is determined to figure things out on his end that may or may not involve the management for the sake of you.

“I gave you quite a scare, didn’t I? I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He says softly in your ear, receiving a feeble head nod from you before he plants a kiss on your temple. “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but since you’re awake now, I guess I’ll have to surprise you some other time.”

Your ears perk up at his words, and you slowly pull your head away from his shoulder to look at him. “Since when do you do the cooking?” You ask, sniffling as you do so, earning a smile of adoration from him.

“Since I decided that I want to provide for my girl more often now.” He confesses as he cups your cheek while the other remains embracing you, his thumb wiping the tears on your cheeks tenderly. “You’re good?”

You hum in response, but you briefly look away from him when you are hit by the waves of embarrassment over the fact that you broke down again for something that is actually trivial in the others’ eyes. “This is embarrassing. And I still look like a mess.” You mutter as you are more than aware of your probably rumpled morning hair and how you can feel the puffiness on your face from all the crying.

“Nonsense. All I see right now is my beautiful girl.” Heeseung, being the ever-so-flatterer, and yet the genuine sincerity in his remark awakens butterflies in your tummy. Above all, you feel more than grateful that he doesn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed by your breaking down, and instead, he continues to provide you comfort as he holds you in his arms.

“I want to take a shower.” You tell him meekly, your fingers fiddling together as you look at him tentatively. Compared to his fresh appearance, you look like a damn mess, and you feel kind of icky.

“Go ahead. I’ll set up the table for us.” He places an affectionate kiss on your forehead, a gesture that feels more intimate than a kiss on the lips, intensifying the flutters inside you.

You hold back a whimper at the loss of his warmth and touch as he parts from you. You remain glued to the floor, your eyes watching his broad figure retreating into the kitchen, but he stops midway as he senses your presence behind. He turns around with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “Baby?”

You probably look like an idiot standing there with your puffy eyes gazing at him, but you feel the need to blurt out, “I love you, Heeseung.”

Unbeknownst to you, your declaration sends a wave of emotions over him despite his collected demeanour. Sometimes, he feels like he is undeserving of your love, how good you always are to him, and how many times he has taken you for granted, be it intentionally or unintentionally. He hides his pain behind a warm smile. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Soon enough, time passes by like a blur as you eventually step out of the bedroom, all freshened up with dampened hair. You decide to settle with a simple white tank top and a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low below your waistline, allowing a sliver of skin that teases him.

As soon as you enter the kitchen, his eyes immediately latch on to your gorgeous figure, and he nearly chokes on his saliva at the irresistible allure emanating from you. Gorgeous is not even enough to describe you right now, because fuck, how can you pull off such a simple, homey look that strongly tempts him to pounce on you like an untamed animal.

His eyes shamelessly scan your every contour while you remain oblivious to his hunger, your attention being fixated on the food meticulously displayed on the island. The white tank top reveals your skin rather generously, particularly your luscious cleavage that makes his mouth water, and he instantly gets hard at the visual of his marks on your delicate skin in his head.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greets you, his voice cracking at the end, to which he quickly covers up with a cough. You beam with a small smile in response, easing the remnants of his worries for you as you look better than earlier. “Feel better now?”

You nod your head shyly, and it takes every strength in him to resist smooching you relentlessly with his kisses. “Thank you for making breakfast. You didn’t have to.” You utter your gratitude softly, your lips jutting into a pout as the guilt dawns on you. “You just came back from the tour, and you’re already tiring yourself out more by doing this.”

“I’m never tired when it comes to you, sweetheart.” He charms you with a boyish grin that displays his perfect pearly teeth. “Besides, seeing your beautiful face is enough to energise me.”

Your heart pounds harder, and the butterflies in your tummy are impossible to tame at the effect of his charms that are working more than effectively. “Gosh, you’re being cheesy again.” You huff, feigning annoyance, but your cheeks feel warmer in the way he gazes at you lovingly.

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference. “It’s the effect of being in love with my girlfriend, I guess.” He says in a very attractive drawl, his lips curving into a smirk as he is very much amused at how easily flustered you are.

You roll your eyes at him, but your lips twitch into an involuntary smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

The smirk on his lips is replaced by a wide-stretched grin. “But you love me anyway.”

“That, I do.” You say, finding yourself softened up again as you gaze at him with unadulterated adoration. “I love you, Hee.”

The way you gaze at him feels as though he is your whole world, and it doesn't help with his emotions that are in disarray, torn between wanting to kiss the fuck out of you or simply make love to you. “Don’t look at me like that, baby.”

You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, and he swears he can hear his cock groaning beneath his briefs. “Like what?”

“Come here, you.” He grunts, taking long strides forward before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him, his fingers tingling from making contact with your skin. His other hand goes cradling your face, tilting your head up until his nose brushes lightly against yours. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your soft chuckles sound melodious to his ears. “And you’re so handsome.” You purr, smiling lazily as though you are drunk on whatever spell he is casting on you. Your eyes drink in his every feature, marvelling at how he has been perfectly sculpted. Your finger absentmindedly traces along his jawline, sending shivers through him. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

He so badly wants to hear those words from you again, needing you to claim what is rightfully yours. “That’s right, pretty baby. I’m yours.” His voice is a low rumble that resonates deep in your core, and you recognise the familiar possessiveness glinting in his eye.

You smile at him before tilting your head to a perfect angle and pressing your lips into his, kissing him sweetly while he eagerly reciprocates. The kiss starts off soft and slow, your lips moving in perfect tandem, but eventually, a familiar hunger rouses within you as you deepen the kiss with your hands sliding underneath his black top, feeling up the prominent ridges of his abdominal muscles as they faintly flex beneath your touch.

Heeseung can feel his cock hardening with each passing second, and it feels nearly impossible to resist your allure that calls for him as you continue to ravage him with your lips and hands. He groans against your lips when you teasingly slide your fingers under the waistband of his briefs, moving lower and lower.

Heeseung forces himself to pull away from your addicting lips, his breathing ragged due to suppressing his own desires. “We should stop, sweetheart, or else I might get tempted to take you right here and now.” He tells you honestly, but his tone carries an underlying warning that tempts you to go against it.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You counter cheekily, gazing at him sensually as you slowly turn around, only for a startled squeal to leave your lips when he slaps your ass with a resounding smack. “Heeseung! That hurts.” You tell him, pouting your lips as you rub the spot where he smacked you.

“Eat, or you’ll get more spanking.” He says firmly, his tone and his eyes feel intimidating enough for you to rethink your choices just when the second option resonates with you more.

“Fine, daddy.” You decide to be mischievously petulant, huffing and showing him attitude as you walk away from him with a purposeful sway of your hips, feeling his eyes fixated on you.

His eyes watching you with dark intent, groaning quietly as his cock gets excited at the mere word of ‘daddy’ leaving your kissable lips. He sighs softly and shakes his head. By you, he is forever undone.

“So, what is your schedule for today?” You ask as you settle across from him on the island, seated on the high stool. You preen when he pours the syrup on your French toast but instantly falters when you realise that he might head over to the company after this. “Do you have anything on at work?”

“I’m free for today, and I might also be free for a whole week.” He informs, chuckling softly as he sees the way your eyes light up like fireworks. “So I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

“Really?” You ask again, receiving a confirmation from him as he nods his head. An idea pops into your mind, an idea that is definitely more than suggestive. A sly smile spreads across your lips. “So we can do whatever we want?”

The familiar hunger and lust swirling in your irises is not lost on him as he smirks lightly, feeling greatly amused at how awfully needy you are, but it won’t hurt for him to tease and edge you for a little longer. “Whatever my gorgeous girl wants.”

It isn’t that you are being ungrateful for the opportunity that was given to you that allows you to spend more time with your lover. Sure, the day is spent with cosy domesticity — heading over to the supermarket to buy some groceries, baking brownies together, and he even entertained you by joining you to colour your colouring book. But something is missing, and you know that it has to do with the fact that he is playing dumb to your overt display of need.

Oh, you know that he’s teasing you, edging you. You tried to seduce him under such pretences, hoping that he would get the damn hint that you wanted him to fuck you, but he didn’t indulge you, simply overlooking your patent desire and being nonchalant about it. You even enticed him with the way your hands roamed around his muscles and how you poured your need into the kisses you shared with him in between those moments. Yet, he never went beyond those kisses and touches, impressively enough, because you know that your boyfriend has an interesting level of libido.

It is more than obvious that he’s playing around at something with you, and it’s fucking infuriating because you need him after he left you high and dry last night, after being apart from him for more than a week. Hence, you remain pouting with your arms folded below your chest, curling yourself in the corner of the sofa, and being all sulky towards your boyfriend, who is comfortably settled just a few spaces away from you.

Little do you know that Heeseung has been taking great delight in the way you are getting antsy and restless, completely deprived of the type of intimacy you desperately crave. Still, he knows that he eventually needs to give in to the pity since his girl can get quite sensitive, even if it’s merely a harmless teasing.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, finally breaking the ice that formed ever since you turned sullen. He looks away from the animated television, his eyes settling on your face.

You want to ignore him, but one look at his handsome face is enough for your resolve to crumble. “I’m bored, and this show is boring me.” You tell him in a grumble, and technically, it isn’t entirely a lie, but there is no way you would let him know the exact truth. “Can we do something else?” Your eyes sparkle with hope as you look at him.

“What exactly do you want to do?” He asks slyly, wearing a mask of genuine curiosity that elicits a disbelieving scoff from you.

You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion at the way he bats his eyes at you innocently. “You know what, Hee.” You deadpan, running out of patience.

His mask fades at the moment a smirk unfurls on his lips. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” He drawls, and that’s all it takes for you to crawl towards him, his eyes darting down at the teasing visual of your luscious cleavage.

You lack any shame as you throw your folded leg on the other side of his thigh, now straddling him with your hands gripping his shoulders. “Heeseung, please.” You whine softly, your bravado slipping and revealing unadulterated neediness, and yet he can see how shy you are with your face flushing with diffidence.

Heeseung is enjoying this view more than he intended, his eyes practically fucking you, which makes your pussy flutter and your clit throb, impelling you to grind on him slowly. “Use your big girl words, baby.” He demands huskily, fighting off the urge to touch any part of your curves as his hands remain lax to his sides.

“I want daddy to fuck me with his cock. I need daddy to fulfil his promises to me from two nights ago.” You keen as you continue to hump on his very prominent bulge that you can distinctly feel the shape protruding in his sweatpants. You return your needy gaze to him, tears glistening in your eyes that he can’t help but soften at. “I missed daddy so much.”

“I know, baby.” He says so gently, but the intensity of his primal hunger that shadows his countenance remains unyielding. He finally caves in as he reaches for your face, his thumb stroking your cheek affectionately. “My pretty baby has been feeling lonely for more than a week.”

“Want daddy to be close to me.” You sob softly, your eyes remain glistening with unshed tears as you allow your emotions to take over you, which has you faltering in your momentum of humping on him. “Want you to never let go of me.”

“Daddy’s here, baby. I’m here.” He reassures you in a soft lull, now leaning his body slightly forward with one hand pressing on your back to prevent you from falling backward while the other remains stroking your cheek as he continues to whisper sweet, assuring words that elicit a mewl from you. “You won’t feel lonely anymore.”

Soon enough, you become distracted by the intimate contact between your warm bodies and how mesmerised you are by his handsomeness up close, your eyes gazing at him with both desire and adoration before you slowly find yourself grinding your clothed cunt into his hardened bulge that feels rock solid.

“That’s it, pretty baby. Grind on my cock just like that.” He whispers amorously, his dark eyes drinking in your delicate features that slowly contort into pleasure as your clit begins to feel stimulated. His eyes fall to your luscious lips that go parted with whines and silent moans. “Wanna give daddy a kiss?”

You nod your head feebly before leaning in with your head tilted to an angle for your lips to mould perfectly with his. He kisses you softly and delicately, as if you are made out of glass, a juxtaposition to the way his hips buck up to meet your every move as you grind on him with such desperation.

But your hunger for your lover is insatiable, propelling you to deepen the kiss as you press your lips into his hard while your hips stutter against him, losing the momentum as you lose yourself in the passion of your shared kisses, your hands cupping his cheeks while his arms lock around your waist.

“You don’t have to rush, baby. We can take our time.” He manages to mumble in between the kisses, and you force yourself to control your insatiable need, whimpering against his parted lips when his hands grip your hips to guide your movements. “Nice and slow, just as daddy likes it.”

Heeseung is completely enamoured by you and the sheer pleasure contorting in your face, your lips going parted with a dulcet tone of your needy whines and airy moans while you arch your body into him as you rock against him. His eyes fall to your exposed chest that your tank top can barely cover up, compelling him to pepper feathery kisses on the expanse of your chest.

Your head is going delirious just by grinding on his cock alone, going back and forth in a continuous motion that rouses your cunt to sensitivity, allowing you to distinctly feel the shape and girth of his cock hidden under the material of his sweatpants.

“You feel so big.” You moan out softly in his ear, your breath tickling his earlobe while the sound alone is enough for him to cease his feathery assault on your chest. “Can’t wait for daddy to fuck me and be mean to me.”

Heeseung groans lowly at the lewd words coming out of your pretty mouth, his hands on your hips tightening from the sheer restraint of the ravenous beast within him. “My pretty baby is so fucking desperate, yeah?” He rasps against the column of your throat before nipping at it with his teeth.

You whimper at the prickling sensation of his teeth sinking into your delicate skin, but it only impels you to rock against him harder. “Only for you, daddy.” You whisper in his ear, such innocence in the way you speak but dripping with sensuality.

Something inside of him snaps, and all inhibitions are thrown out of the window, allowing his inner demons to consume you wholly now. “Fuck, come here.” He nearly growls out his words, shocking you at the gravelly timbre in his voice, barely giving you the time to process when he captures your lips in a searing kiss.

Heeseung kisses you roughly, even more so with an avid passion that intensifies the familiar heat in your core, drawing languid moans from you as you part your lips for him to thrust his tongue into you, exchanging saliva with you and licking every inch of your wet cavern. His hands manoeuvre underneath your tank top, feeling your skin underneath his touch before he deftly unclasps your strapless bra with one hand.

Heeseung masters such adroitness when he successfully removes your bra and tosses it aside without breaking the heated lip lock. A whine leaves you when he pulls away from your chasing lips; the string of saliva remaining connected between your lips and his is a testament to your co-equal desires.

Your cunt clenches as soon as he leans down and envelops your nipple with his lips, sucking on it despite the material of your tank top remaining a barrier. You arch your back at the sensational pleasure in your nipple as he continues to suck it while his other hand is occupied in palming your once-neglected tit.

“Hee—” You moan out, and you swear you are about to come undone just by getting your tits manipulated by his mouth and hand. You look down, only to feel more turned on at the sight of him now licking your nipple languidly, staining your tank top with his saliva before he bites it down gently and does the same to the other nipple. But you can’t take the unbearable heat in your core anymore. “I need you now.”

Heeseung decides to give in to your needy request as he catches on to the palpable tremor in your voice, but not before giving your perky nipple a hard lick with his tongue as well as squeezing your other tit for good measure.

“Hold on tight to me, baby.” He demands as his hand moves under your ass cheek to support you while you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He proceeds to rise from the sofa and makes his way to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with ease.

Lacking self-control, you decide to cave in to the temptation and press your lips into his skin, sending shivers down his spine at the sensation of your warm, wet lips. He clenches his jaw as you continue to distract him with kitten kisses all over his neck, knowing how sensitive he actually is, particularly when you lick his Adam's apple sensually.

“Fuck, sweetheart, if you keep doing that—” He groans deeply when you nip at his Adam’s apple hard, his cock twitching because of it. He squeezes your ass tight while his steps become disconcertingly stringent. “You’re so gonna get it.”

You continue to lick and kiss his neck, even as he finally enters your shared bedroom. He stops by the vanity table to retrieve something he had prepared earlier without your knowledge while the other hand continues to carry you with ease before taking long strides to your bed.

In a blink of an eye, Heeseung manoeuvres you to the bed, your back hitting the mattress that springs up and down from the impact, but you quickly recover as you raise your upper body with the support of your elbows pressing down on the bedding. Your eyes feast shamelessly on how attractive he looks in a simple black top with the silver necklace adding to his allure, and his bulge is prominent against his sweatpants, but what highly intrigues you is the pink silk restraints in his grasp.

You meet his eyes, only to bite down your lip in an attempt to suppress your arousal as you notice how pissed off he looks, reminding you of those concert clips of him that you practically get off to. You squeeze your thighs together.

“You naughty little minx.” His husky voice is laden with lust despite the anger dripping from his tone, and that alone excites you unlike any other. His dark eyes penetrate into you condescendingly. “Is this what you want? You really want daddy to be pissed off at you so he could teach you a lesson?”

“Want it so much.” You purr, arching your back purposely to make your perky nipples prominent against the thin material more than they already are while your gaze remains sultry. “Want daddy to fuck me mean.”

His dark eyes drink you greedily, how sinfully divine you look so pliant on the bed with your white tank top being wetly tainted by his saliva and how your nipples get perkier, your chest heaving up and down from the tension dawning in your bedroom. “Take off your top, baby.” He orders gruffly, taking steps forward towards you.

You do as he says so, raising your upper body to balance yourself as you remain in a sitting position before grabbing the hem of your top and pulling it over your head. The cool air immediately causes your nipples to harden.

Just as you toss aside your top, your heart lurches in your chest when he slams your body back onto the mattress, his fingers curling around your neck firmly while he has you pinned underneath him helplessly. You gasp softly from the sudden impact before flickering your eyes to his dark ones, rendering you awed and tense by the smouldering intensity in his eyes.

“What? Scared of daddy now?” He asks mockingly, his knee pressing into the mattress that is situated in between your legs, and it takes every strength for you to avoid grinding your clothed cunt on his thigh as you can feel him pressing into you.

“N-No.” You stutter, feeling both nervous and excited at the unknown of his plans as well as the unpredictability of his behaviour that you have always found incredibly hot.

He scoffs with the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk, and fuck, he’s so hot that it makes your pussy weep. “Daddy wants to do many things to you; you have no idea.” He says lowly, his fingers curling around your neck, loosening just a fraction. “But first, what’s the safe word, sweetheart?”

As much as he wants to ruin you till you’re a sobbing mess, he needs another reassurance from you, an additional consent sort of, as he worries that he might go too far on you. “Pink.” You tell him softly.

Heeseung scans your face, searching for any hesitation, but all he sees is the unadulterated need of your salacious craving for him, drawing a smirk on his lips. “You’ve done it, sweetheart. You get mean Heeseung now.”

You gasp into his mouth when he captures your lips in a breathtaking kiss, stealing your every breath, which leaves you panting into his mouth, but he uses the opportunity to thrust his tongue into you, licking and tasting you, never getting enough of you. Your hands fist at his shirt, panting and mewling against him, but he captures your hands and raises them above your head.

Heeseung bites down on your bottom lip so hard that you swear it is bruising enough to draw blood, eliciting a whimper from you, but you feel highly aroused at his roughness. He pulls away from your lips, allowing you to gasp for air. You attempt to gain control of your hands, but he grips them tight, prompting you to look at him with confusion, only to watch as he deftly binds your wrists together with the pink silk restraint.

Heeseung is unsparing as he proceeds to trace an ardent path with his lips on your skin, kissing you down your neck until he reaches the expanse of your bare chest. You whimper as he roughly palms your tits before taking one nipple in his hot mouth.

You moan at the wet sensation of his tongue swirling and licking your nipple before he does the same to the other nipple while multitasking in palming and squeezing the flesh of your tits. You grind your throbbing cunt on his thigh. “Nngh! Hee—“ Your lips part open in a silent scream at the stinging pain in your tit that is smacked by his palm.

“Fucking missed these tits. Made to be sucked.” He groans as he pushes your tits together hard with his thumbs pressing down on your nipples before sucking them again, loving how the pearls hardened in his mouth. Your cunt clenches uncontrollably at your tits getting manipulated by his relentless hands and mouth.

But he releases them, only to slap one tit as he watches it jiggle, eliciting a painful cry from you, but you arch your body with your tits pushed out. “You love getting your tits slapped? Nasty slut.” He does it again, each slap to your tits amplifying your pleasure and sensitivity that has you moving your hips to rub your clothed cunt on his thigh. “That turns you on, yeah?”

If anything, his degradation turns you on more than it should, finding it incredibly hot that your sweet, gentle boyfriend is uttering such degrading words to you and how there isn’t any usual gentleness in the way he torments you with pleasure right now. He slaps your tit hard once more, drawing a sob from you before he leans down to lick your abused nipples and peppers kisses on the spots where he slapped you.

By the time he’s done, your nipples are glistening with his saliva, a barrier that provides you warmth against the cold temperature of the room. He trails open-mouth kisses down the plane of your stomach with his fingers tucking underneath the waistband of your sweatpants before swiftly pulling it down, now revealing your baby pink underwear that bears a noticeable spot of your arousal.

“Dirty, naughty girl. Getting wet from getting your tits slapped and played with?” He teases you, causing your face to flush warmly. He proceeds to pull down your underwear, only to press it into his nose as he smells it. “Fuck, baby. You smell so good.” He nearly moans out his words while you are left flabbergasted.

“Heeseung!” You blurt out, feeling embarrassed that he continues to smell your stained underwear as though it is his salvation. At the exclamation of his name from you, he stops smelling your underwear and directs his glare to your face.

“Wrong.” He says coldly, and before you know it, your thigh stings painfully at the impact of his palm. You whine in response and try to close your legs, but he forcefully slots himself in between your legs and lands a smack on your other thigh, harder this time. “What should you address me as?”

You sob out softly, your eyes glistening with unshed tears that bring a smirk to his lips, because he’s not even done with you and yet you’re already on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry, daddy.” You whimper out your apology, earning yourself a kiss from him on your waxed mount.

Heeseung brings himself to the eye level of your pussy while his hands press on your inner thighs, forcing your legs to spread. “Daddy’s home, princess.” He coos, reminding you of the video call where he spoke to your pussy as if it were a person. Your breath hitches in your throat when he uses his fingers to spread your wet folds apart lewdly. “Look at you, princess. Already dripping wet because of me?”

You can feel your pussy preening under his attention and the way the padding of his fingers is stroking along your folds absentmindedly. “Missed you so fucking much, princess.” He places a wet kiss on your swollen clit that throbs intensely, prompting you to buck up your hips at the sensitivity. “Daddy thought of you every night, got me imagining how good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.”

A concoction of lust and yearning laces in his tone, and when you look down at him, his eyes are heavily fixated on your preening pussy before he leans in to place another sensual kiss on your clit. “Seungie—“ You clamp your lips shut as soon as his dark eyes flicker to yours with a disapproving glare.

He sighs against your pussy, his hot breath fanning on your folds. “But as much as daddy missed you, you need to be taught a lesson.” He brings his palm down to your pussy, tearing a cry from you at the painful impact, but he spares you no mercy as he does it again, causing your hips to buck up to meet his slaps instinctively despite the pain. “My princess has been missing so much that she easily gets wet even when daddy is slapping her.”

Another slap to your pussy sounds lewdly wet with your arousal as it echoes in your room, causing your hips to buck up again, and you lose track of how long he goes on until you can’t handle the fiery sensitivity. “Daddy, please.” You whimper, your lips quivering with need while a single tear rolls down your cheek.

This time, the padding of his fingers lands on your clit hard, eliciting another cry from you, but he leans down and silences you with a chaste kiss. “Shhh, shhh, baby.” He shushes you, his lips grazing your parted ones with his breath mingling with yours. He is being deceptively soft, his features softening as he gazes into your glossy eyes, but his fingers around your neck remain unabating. “Take what daddy gives you like a good fucking slut you are.”

You whimper as you bare your neck to him with your head tilted up, feeling the instinctive need to submit to him, which earns you a pleased smirk from him before you find yourself being rewarded with a rub on your clit, only for a moment until he lands a sharp slap on your pussy again. You hold back from letting out another cry as he does it again, his dark eyes locking with yours as though challenging you to look away.

Tears accumulating in your waterline at how merciless your lover is being, giving you both pleasure and pain, but mostly denying you the pleasure. You give him a doe-eyed look that you know he would never be able to resist, and the effect seems to be working when he falters before wrapping it up with one hard smack to your pussy.

You release the waterfall as they flow freely, your eyelids fluttering close when he presses a kiss on your forehead, nearly purring at the affection. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says as you look at him, butterflies swarming in your tummy at the smirk on his handsome face. “Now daddy will reward his princess.”

Your heart races in anticipation when he brings his thumb to his tongue and licks it, his eyes never leaving yours as he does so, before finding your clit and rubbing it slowly yet effectively as you feel the bundle of nerves being stimulated.

His dark eyes watch you intently in the way pleasure contorts in your features as you flutter your eyes closed with soft moans leaving your lips. “Daddy loves how sensitive you are just by getting your clit played.” He remarks, chuckling darkly as your hips begin to move back and forth sensually as though you are being fucked by his cock. “You’re that desperate, it’s so pathetic, princess.”

Heeseung knows that you revel in the degradation he bestows on you, and that itself makes him harder than he already was. “Feels good. Missed your fingers so much.” You utter breathlessly, feeling your abdomen flexing at the building pleasure.

“Princess wants my fingers in her?” He hums, his fingers sliding along your wet folds teasingly while his question earns a needy whine from you.

Before you know it, his two long fingers slide into your wet hole, relentlessly plunging deeper, which has you gasping brokenly at the resistance of your walls being stretched just by his fingers alone, and yet you need his fingers to boost your pleasure to a higher degree.

“More.” You tell him needily as he begins to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, delving rhythmically without losing momentum in the way he rubs your clit unrelentingly. “Please, daddy. I need more.”

He lets out a condescending scoff, his eyes leering at you. “Greedy baby. I never taught you to be greedy.” He admonishes, but he increases the intensity in his deft fingers, fucking you to the point you can hear your own wetness that sounds obnoxious. “I’ll give you more, alright. I’ll fucking ruin your pretty pussy. Wanna see if I can make you squirt.”

You are not confident that you can since you have never squirted before, but with the way his fingers are fucking into you skilfully while each thrust hits harder than the previous, maybe you might be proven wrong. You close your eyes, nearly choking when he squeezes your neck while your hips meet every thrust avidly. You can feel the knot in your tummy forming tighter and tighter while something feels different this time.

“Right there!” You moan out as soon as his fingers hit that spot before he curls them, drawing out something more impactful from you as he becomes dangerously relentless. Your arms twitch while your hips stutter midway from meeting his thrust, feeling the inevitable release. “Daddy—”

“Come on, squirt for me, princess. Make a fucking mess over my fingers.” He grits his teeth, sheer determination painting his handsome face as he drives you closer to the edge of pleasure that feels intense, and before you know it, the knot in your tummy unravels as you explode with clear fluid gushing out of your cunt while your thighs quiver.

Though you have come undone, he doesn’t stop thrusting his fingers into you, overstimulating your every sense that has you whimpering for reprieve, only to earn a wet slap on your pussy that makes your hips twitch from the impact. You try to close your legs, unable to handle the sensitivity as he rubs your clit with maddening precision, but he smacks you in the ass.

“Who said you could close your legs?” He nearly growls out, now positioning himself where he is on the same eye level as the explicit view of your pussy. His arms go hooking around your thighs, preventing you from closing your legs again. “Daddy hasn't even gotten a taste of his slutty princess yet.”

You open your mouth to retort, but a breathy moan comes out instead when his tongue licks a broad stripe of your pussy. He presses his tongue into your clit, feeling it throb faintly before licking it like it’s a lollipop. He stops and rears back, only to spit out a glob of his saliva as it lands on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in sheer pleasure. You arch your back, moaning as his tongue goes lathering his saliva on your clit messily before skilfully stimulating it.

“Princess tastes so fucking delicious. I could never get enough of you.” He mumbles against your pussy, nearly moaning out at the taste of you, before flattening his tongue to drag it in an up-and-down motion in between your wet folds while the tip of his nose hits your clit that is aching tremendously. “Been hungry for this sweet pussy for too long..”

You want to grab onto his hair, but the restraint binding your wrists is a hindrance. You feel his long tongue now fucking into your wet hole, moaning at the taste of you while it sends a vibration through your sensitive cunt. Your body writhes under his firm hold as he eats you out vigorously like a madman, and your abdomen trembles with the familiar knot coiling tighter.

“Daddy, please! I can’t!” You sob out, lacking the endurance of your sensitivity as tears spring in your eyes, but he continues to eat you out, his tongue delving deeper that allows you to feel the wet muscle grazing your walls.

You can only produce pleasurable moans and whines of protest as you struggle in his vice-like grip. He must’ve felt bad hearing the occasional sobs leaving your lips as his hand finds home to your tit, palming it softly and twiddling with your nipple, but the action only intensifies your pleasure.

“Give me one more, baby.” He speaks to you from below, his voice sounding attractively husky before his tongue goes attached to your budding clit while his fingers plunge into your sopping cunt.

The dual sensation overstimulates you unlike anything else, eliciting higher-pitched moans from you as you arch your back in pure ecstasy while your thighs quiver from the sensitivity. Your lower abdomen feels tight with tension, and you know it won’t be long till you come undone again. With a hard flick of his tongue on your clit, your body convulses as your orgasm comes crashing down on you like tidal waves.

“Heeseung—” You utter his name weakly as he laps up your nectar with his tongue before finding strength to correct yourself again. “Daddy, I need a break, please.” Your voice trembles the same way your thighs do, shivering when his tongue licks a long stripe along your soaked pussy.

Heeseung finally halts before hovering on top of you with his eyes darkening with something predatory. He grips your chin firmly while his thumb presses down on your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth, and you do so without question, only to be highly aroused when he spits a glob of his saliva and your cum into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

A crazed lust glints in his eyes as he watches you swallow with delight, finishing it off with a moan before he smashes his lips into yours in a frenzied hunger, kissing you messily that involves tongues and teeth clashing, nothing like the way your kisses with him were.

Heeseung breaks the messy lip lock and leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily while his eyes search for yours, seeing how adorably dazed you are. “Hope you’re still with me, baby. Daddy needs your mouth to satisfy his cock.”

You know that your oral fixation for his cock is avid when you find yourself salivating at the vivid image of his cock that you and your pussy have dearly missed. You watch as he leans away from you before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up with ease. You attempt to make a move to get out of the bed, eager to kneel for him, but he stops you before your foot can touch the floor.

“No, baby. I won’t have you hurting yourself by kneeling for me on the floor.” He tells you firmly, and for a moment, confusion flickers in your gaze. “Just stay on the bed and sit on your knees.”

Your heart swells with love at his thoughtfulness amidst the prevalent lustful haze in the room. With your slightly aching thighs, you unsteadily change your position, but his hand remains gripping your arm firmly to support you. Once you are seated on your knees politely with your restrained wrists pressed to your chest, he releases you.

Realising that you are directly at the eye level of his cock, your face flushes warmly while you notice how his bulge becomes more prominent before slowly lifting your head to look at him. The fact that he is towering over you right now makes your pussy flutter, and it isn’t helping that he is smirking down at you while he lazily unties the string with one hand to loosen his sweatpants before pulling them down until they fall to the floor.

“Hope you’re hungry, baby, because daddy needs your mouth to take his cock for as long as he wants.” He says darkly, his hand pulling his grey boxers down until his cock manages to spring free, going completely erect as it is pointing towards you.

You nearly purr in satisfaction at the delicious visual of his cock that you had dreamed of on nights without him. He steps closer, enjoying the way your eyes are hungrily staring at his cock.

“Wanna be good for you, daddy.” You say softly, leaning into his touch as he cradles your face with his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. His heart palpitates when you look up at him with the prettiest doe-eyed look on your face, such innocence despite kneeling for him in sheer nudity. “Wanna be your good girl.”

“You’re already my good girl, baby.” He hums softly, his other hand grabbing the base to guide it to your face, only for him to slap his heavy cock to the side of your face a few times that arouses you before teasing himself in the way he slides the swollen tip on your cheek while you wait in anticipation. He grabs your chin firmly. “Open your mouth for me, sweet girl.”

You open your mouth wide open, taking the initiative to stick your tongue out that allows him to slide his cock on your wet muscle back and forth, allowing you a taste of his arousal that leaks from the tip, before he slowly pushes his cock into your mouth. You envelop your lips around his girth and proceed to take him with your head bobbing while your tongue manipulates around his tip that feels engorged.

“Fuck, baby. You’re taking my cock good.” He moans breathily, feeling his pleasure mounting from your skilful mouth and tongue. His hand reaches for your hair and grabs it in a makeshift ponytail to assert control over you. “But need you to take daddy’s cock deeper.”

You nearly gag when he lodges his cock deeper until the head is pressed into the back of your throat, and you display your struggle as his girth constricts your airways, prompting you to nudge your bound wrists to his abdomen while your breathing goes erratic.

Heeseung tilts your head to meet your glossy eyes, his face remaining stringent, but there is a softness of concern in his eye. “Don’t panic. You’ll only make it worse. I need you to regulate your breathing for me. I know you can, baby.” He instructs, his tone encouraging enough for you to gain determination. “Breathe through your nose.”

You do so, now breathing normally through your nose while the panic in your chest dissipates. He slowly releases your hair, allowing you to set the pace as you proceed to fuck him with your hungry mouth. The salty taste of his arousal leaking from his tip makes you moan while he can feel the vibration of your muffled moan from the back of your throat, intensifying his sensitivity as he throws his head back, letting out a low, guttural moan that goes straight into your cunt.

“My eager cockslut.” His husky voice is laden with lust and a familiar derogatory that elicits a needy whine from you, but it is muffled by his cock that is lodged deeper in your throat. “You missed daddy’s cock so much, hm? Look at how eagerly you’re taking me with that slutty mouth.”

You hum in response, your eyes tearing up from the way his cock brutally breaches your throat that hurts so good. The sound is utterly lewd in the way you take the entirety of him into your mouth as it echoes off the walls of your shared bedroom while the corners of your lips are dripping with your drool.

You love the way his handsome face contorts into pure gratification with a moan leaving his lips when your tongue swirls and licks his engorging tip that you fear will explode. You daringly use your teeth to graze his thrusting cock, earning yourself a glaring hunger in his eyes when he looks down at you, but you know that he’s into it when he makes no remarks, only emitting attractive sounds of his groans and breathy moans.

Eventually, Heeseung reaches the heights of his pleasure, blood rushing and pumping in his cock while he is on the verge of release. He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail again, but this time, with roughness that elicits another moan from you despite the pain in your scalp. “I’m gonna come, baby, and you’re gonna swallow every drop like a good cockslut you are for me.”

You choke and gag on his cock, but he doesn’t spare you any concern as he gets lost in the sea of pleasure, using your mouth as his cocksleeve and driving himself to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel his rhythm going erratic and how his bulbous tip is practically pulsating on your tongue. In just a few seconds, he lodges his cock deeper in your throat and goes still as he releases viscous streams of his heavy, sticky release that you are forced to swallow.

“That’s a good girl, taking every drop.” He praises you in a low rumble that has you preening before you eagerly swallow for more with your tongue circling around his girth, your mouth now painted white with his cum.

Heeseung finally pulls his cock from your mouth, allowing you to gasp for air while your jaw aches from the exertion. He grabs you by the chin firmly, asserting dominance again that has you meeting his eyes in pure submission. “Stick your tongue out for me, baby. Let daddy see the mess he made in your mouth.”

Your cunt clenches at his words while you stick your tongue out with your mouth wide open again, showing him the remnants of his white sticky release on your wet muscle. Heat pools in your core once more when he throws a wad of spit into your mouth before he closes your mouth for you, forcing you to swallow, and you do so, enjoying the union of his spit and cum trickling down your throat.

Heeseung proceeds to untie the pink silk restraint around your wrists, giving you the impression of regaining your freedom until he quickly proves you wrong when he deftly manoeuvres you into a position where your face is pressed into the mattress.

“D-Daddy?” You stutter nervously as he forcefully takes both your arms and folds them together, pressing them into your back before tying the same pink silk restraint around your arms in a firm knot.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby. I’m gonna break you since that’s what you wanted, yeah?” His voice sounds raw with a primal hunger while his breathing sounds heavier, and you can only visualise in your head how hot he looks as you are unable to look over your shoulder. He has you on your knees still as they are pressed into the mattress, leaving your back to arch for him and the explicit visual of your two holes displayed in his eyes. “Daddy’s been missing his princess a little too much.”

“Need you so bad, daddy.” You whimper when he taps the bulbous head of his cock on your wet folds, impelling you to spread your knees further apart and your back arching deeper.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll be fucking all night.” He says smugly as he eyes down at your gaping hole that has been assaulted by him earlier. With one last tap of his cock to your pussy, his powerful hips surge forward as he thrusts his cock into your awaiting cunt, gritting his teeth at the resistance of your walls around his girth. “Damn, baby. No matter how many times I fuck you, you’ll always feel tight around me.”

You can only moan, instantly going dumb just by another push of his cock as he begins to fuck you in slow, deeper strokes, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein in his sheer girth that has your head going delirious.

“I fucking missed this sweet pussy. Princess was made to take my cock. Gonna ruin your pussy for anyone else.” He lets out a guttural moan as he thrusts into you roughly, his muscular hips snapping against your buttcheeks with resounding smacks. “Pretty baby being a good cocksleeve for me. So fucking good to me. Need to be buried in you all night.”

Your clit feels neglected despite your pussy being fucked good by his cock. You whimper, turning your head to the other side with your cheeks pressing into the mattress. “Daddy.” You whine needily, earning yourself a sharp smack on your ass that springs tears to your eyes.

Heeseung grabs you by the hair and pulls you up just slightly while the other hand grips your waist to support your upper body from falling forward. “What more does my greedy baby want?”

“Want your finger to rub my clit.” You keen, desperation dripping from your tone. You moan out when he slams his cock into you unforgivingly, causing your whole body to shake from the impact.

“Greedy fucking slut. Just my cock alone is not enough for you.” He growls out, his tone is absent of any usual loving or softness, just rough with relentless degradation that is driven by his primitive hunger for you.

Still, Heeseung caves in to your request, but he pulls you up until your body is upraised while you remain standing on your knees. He releases your hair and wraps his arm around your chest while the other travels down to your aching clit. He rubs it hard and fast with maddening precision, stimulating your clit effectively with the pleasurable knot forming in your tummy.

With the dual sensation of his cock ruthlessly bullying in your cunt and his fingers rubbing your clit relentlessly, your eyes nearly go white as you throw your head back in pure ecstasy, your mouth gaping with pornographic moans that spur him further.

“Keep making those pretty fucking sounds, baby. Want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” He growls in your ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He places a chaste kiss on your earlobe while he never falters in his momentum of fucking you deliriously. “You’re making daddy very happy.”

“Daddy.” You whine, your voice lacing with pure need for his affection. You turn your head to meet his glaring eyes. “Please kiss me.” You request softly, to which he grants it, dipping his head down and capturing your lips in a kiss that sates your need.

You moan against his parted lips, your cunt clenching hard around him as the knot in your tummy tightens at an alarming rate. “I’m gonna come, daddy.” You whisper sweetly, your tongue darting out to lick the seams of his lips. “Want you to come with me.”

“Whatever my gorgeous girl wants.” He kisses you once more before pulling away from you while you lean the back of your head on his shoulder, completely surrendering yourself to the imminent release as the knot in your tummy threatens to snap. “Here it comes, baby.”

You moan and whine uncontrollably at the intense stimulation of his fingers rubbing your clit hard and rapid while your tits jiggle from the way he slams his hips into you, his cock battering your cunt and delving deeper that you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

With another guttural moan from him, his orgasm crashes down on him in a torrent of ecstasy at the same time your orgasmic release hits you, and his hips go still against yours as he dumps his cum into your cunt. He groans as he bites down on your shoulder, feeling your cunt milking him greedily, as though it has been eager to be filled by his cum.

Your body feels weak as you remain leaning into him dependently, but he gently lowers your body till you go lax on the mattress before untying the restraint around your arms. Your mushy brain can barely process anything when he turns you around and pins both of your wrists above your head to tie the pink silk restraint around them once more.

“No, Hee—” You protest weakly as he rears back, towering over your pliant figure. Your pussy flutters as you watch him pulling his black top off his body and tossing it aside, revealing his lean body with toned muscles that entice you to feel them under your touch. “Untie me, please?”

But Heeseung disregards your polite request as he simply casts you a charming smirk, now moving on the bed and pulling you close to him by the legs. “You’re the one who said that you wanted to be tied down while I fucked you, so I’m giving you what you want.”

You watch in lustful anticipation as he grabs the base of his cock and aims it at your pussy. He taps the red tip on your clit repeatedly with such intensity that it stimulates your bundle of nerves once more, drawing whines from you as you squirm at the high sensitivity.

“I’m still sensitive!” You whine loudly as your hips stutter, trying your best to avoid him, but he pins you by the waist and continues to tap the tip angrily on your clit before sliding it up and down in between your folds. “No more!”

“Don’t be ungrateful. Daddy is giving you more than what you asked for.” He admonishes, his husky voice sounding rough. His eyes flicker to your glossy ones, and he adorns a taunting smirk on his lips. “Like I said before, it’s daddy’s job to spoil his princess, and I’m spoiling you with my cock since you’ve been busy fucking around with that damn dildo.”

Heeseung groans as he tilts his head up, feeling his own sensitivity as his tip feels good pressing into your clit while you marvel at his attractiveness, particularly the way his Adam’s apple is bobbing. “It’s about time I remind you that only my cock can satisfy your needy pussy the way you want.”

You are about to counterattack with the reminder of him who bought that dildo for you as a gift of an apology before he went for another tour, only to gasp at the sheer girth of his cock breaching your pussy without any warning.

His chest rumbles as he lets out a growl that sounds borderline animalistic, relishing the way your walls stretch divinely around him. “Fuck, feels just as good as the first time.” He remarks gruffly, now hovering above you with both hands pressing down into the sheets on the sides of your head. “This pussy is mine, and you’re mine.” He snarls possessively, sending pleasurable shockwaves through your body.

With another thrust into you, Heeseung proceeds to fuck you in hard, deep strokes that have you nearly seeing stars in your vision. His hands fist the sheets, watching in both amusement and desire as your mouth is gaping with airy moans while your glossy eyes look dazed as they zoom into his. His cock practically twitches at the way you look adorably dumb just by his cock bullying your insides the second time.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. Can’t have you going dumb on my cock too soon.” He chuckles breathily above you, the sound itself sending flutters to your heart. You blink your eyes, watching as his pendant necklace dangles in the air right above you, getting even more turned on at the mere sight that causes your cunt to clench around him hard.

“Fuck, baby. You’re trying to vacuum my cock or something?” He groans loudly, nearly faltering in his steady momentum as your walls hug him tighter. He forces himself to push his cock deeper into you, eliciting another pretty moan from you while he basks in the wet warmth in your cunt.

“You’re so hot, daddy.” You utter in a drunk slur, smiling lazily at him despite the intensity of his dark gaze making your insides purr loudly. “Want you to fuck me angrily like how you looked in those concert clips I watched.” You babble, your mind knowing nothing but him and his cock alone.

Deja vu hits him like whiplash before he recalls the same words you spoke two nights ago during that video call. He scoffs, smirking meanly at you, and has your walls fluttering around his cock in excitement. “You’re such a dirty, horny slut, princess.”

You hum in agreement, mewling when his fingers caress your face that feels deceptive. “I’m your slut.” You state proudly, moaning when he hits the spot that has you throwing your head back, his cock angling deeper that hits your g-spot.

“Yeah, you are.” He growls as he fucks his cock into you with an unyielding force that causes your tits to jiggle, enticing him to grab a handful of it while the other remains supporting his weight from pressing down on you. “You’re daddy’s slut only. My gorgeous slut with the perfect pussy.”

You preen under him, almost forgetting that your wrists are bound by the restraint just when you are about to run your fingers through his hair. His hand goes gripping on the bed frame behind you, allowing you the delicious view of his bicep muscle flexing with every forceful thrust he delivers to your sopping cunt.

“H-Harder.” You utter shakily, finding yourself slipping into the heady mix of lust as each thrust of his cock into you rouses the building pleasure to greater heights.

Heeseung complies, thrusting into you harder with a profound impact that knocks the breath out of you. Sweats begin to glisten on his skin as you spot trails of sweat dripping down his sideburns while his jaw is taut with tension and his dark eyes are full of concentration, wanting to bestow sheer pleasure on you.

You have no idea how long he has been fucking into you harder and rougher, but long enough for you to discern the sound of your bed creaking from the impact, and your mind is reduced into nothing, with only moans, gasps, and whines being coherent. You feel your cheeks wet before realising that they’re your own tears.

“You look so pretty when you cry, baby.” He comments, his voice ladening with raw hunger and lust as he drinks in the pain and pleasure twisting in your delicate features while you remain helpless with your wrists bound. “Daddy's gonna make you cry more.”

Heeseung hoists both legs up till your kneecaps are pressed into your shoulders, shocking you with your flexibility that you have no idea you are capable of. In this position, his cock feels deeper in you to the point where you feel overstimulated despite the knot in your tummy having yet to unravel.

“Heeseung!” You scream, unable to handle the intensity of his momentum as he fucks you with reckless abandon, battering your walls ruthlessly while depriving you of the ability to writhe or squirm. It hurts so good to the point where you are torn between enjoying the painful pleasure that feels addictive or uttering the safe word that hangs at the tip of your tongue.

“Take it, baby. Fucking take it all!” He growls, his face contorting into pure madness that you can’t help but to find him unbearably hot, causing your nearly battered pussy to flutter. “I’m going to dump my cum in your cunt. I’m gonna breed you with my seeds, knock you up with my baby. You’d look so hot with a pregnant belly.”

A broken moan leaves your lips as your mind is reeling at his words, but soon enough, the knot in your tummy is close to snapping. “I’m close, daddy!” You announce in a cry as tears continue to spill from your eyes.

“Come for me, baby.” On his demand, you are slammed by a shuddering release that has your body convulsing beneath him while he encircles his hand around your ankle and places a soft kiss above your ankle as you continue to bathe his relentless cock with your sticky essence.

Heeseung pushes on your orgasm a little longer, his cock coating with your thick, creamy arousal while furiously pumping into your weeping cunt before his own imminent climax hits him as he tumbles over the edge of ecstasy, spilling his cum into your cunt and filling you to the brim as this time, his cum feels more loaded than the previous. He groans, feeling your cunt spasming around him as he lodges his cock deep, ensuring that your hole is taking all of it.

But when he looks down at your conjoined sexes, he spots the union of his cum with yours leaking from your hole. He clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction before withdrawing his cock from your battered pussy and allowing your weary legs to settle down.

Just when you think he is done, your once-heavy eyelids snap wide open at the sensation of his tongue lapping up your pussy lips. “Heeseung!” You whine, squirming away from him, but he releases a grunt and holds your inner thighs down firmly, depriving you of any means of escape until he’s done with you.

“I can’t! It’s too much!” You sob out, feeling overstimulated to the point where your emotions are going haywire, but the way your hips buck up to meet his tongue betrays you.

Heeseung continues to lick your messy pussy and pushes the leaking cum into your hole despite your body attempting to thrash around in his vice-like hold. His tongue scoops the remnants of your cum before he hovers above you and grabs you by the throat, forcing you to open your mouth.

You watch with glossy eyes as he transfers a wad of your cum with his into your mouth, moaning involuntarily when it hits the back of your throat. He leans in to kiss you hard, bruising your lips again with how ravenous he is. He pulls away from you while the string of your saliva is prevalent until he cuts it off with a lick along the seam of his lip.

Your lips quiver with a soft whine of protest when the bulbous head of his cock slides between your wet pussy lips, your glossy eyes meeting your lover’s face as he looks down at your nearly conjoined sexes. “No more, daddy, please.” You protest weakly, finding the strength to look down at his erection going hard for you once more.

“One more, baby. You can give me one more, yeah?” He rasps, pressing his lips into your cheek as he enters your weeping hole with an obscene squelch, your walls accommodating to the familiarity of his sheer girth and feeling as though they have been moulded to the shape of his cock.

“You said that earlier too.” You whimper shakily as he begins to thrust into you slowly, taking his time to relish the way your walls envelop around him like they never want to let go.

“I know, baby, but I can’t get enough of you and your sweet pussy.” He murmurs, his tone a familiar mellow, while his mean demeanour melts into the sweet and gentle lover. His thumb strokes your clit tenderly, eliciting a mewl from you. “I promise I’ll try to be gentle this time.”

“Can you untie me, please? I wanna hold you.” You plead tearfully, feeling utterly desperate to hold your lover and seek comfort in his warmth.

He kisses your cheek in response before planting his hand next to your head while the other skilfully unties the restraint without faltering in his thrusts. Once your wrists are freed from the restraint, you are quick to lower your aching arms and run your fingers through his tousled hair while your lips manage to find him, kissing him faintly.

“Still sensitive, daddy.” You cry softly, your indecisive hips squirming and meeting his thrusts while he amplifies your sensitivity by rubbing your clit in measured precision. You mewl at his overflowing affection as he peppers kisses all over your face with one arm snaking around your arched back.

“You’ll feel better with daddy’s cock soon.” He says so gently despite his austere demeanour, which remains unyielding enough for you to surrender to him. He presses his lips on the corner of your lips, biting back a groan when your walls vacuum his girth. “Thought you wanna be my good girl.”

“I do.” You keen as you attempt to meet his slow yet powerful thrusts, but his hips keep pressing down on you, making you feel his cock at deeper heights. “I love being your good girl.”

Heeseung kisses you as a reward before rearing back just slightly for him to look down at your tummy. “Look, baby. My cock is deep inside of you.” He says smugly with a soft smirk on his lips, prompting you to glance down, only to moan at the sight of your lower tummy bulging with each thrust of his cock. He presses down his palm on your bulging tummy, adding more pressure. “Feel that?”

You nod your head numbly, getting lost in the abyss of pure pleasure. “M-more.” You manage to enunciate your words despite your mind being reduced to nothing coherent except the sheer need of him and his cock. “Want you to breed me again, daddy.”

“I love you.” His sweet declaration strikes a chord deep in you amidst the heady mix of lust, and his eyes gazing into yours are a reflection of the sentiments that your heart harbours for him. “You’re so perfect for me, like you’re made just for me. My perfect girl.”

You moan softly, your cunt squeezing him at his praise. The overstimulation is slowly replaced by an incandescent pleasure that feels searing and all-consuming as you meet his thrusts with a renewed vigour. His thumb remains stroking and rubbing your clit, which amplifies the familiar knot in your tummy.

“Feels so good.” Your eyes go white as you throw your head back in pure ecstasy while the hypnotising arch of your back entices him to take a nipple in his mouth in the way your tits are being pushed out.

“Yeah, you do.” He rasps against your tit, giving it another sloppy kiss before hovering his face above yours and positioning his lips to your parted ones, your bated breaths mingling together.

Your heart flutters at the mere gesture of his fingers intertwined with yours in a loving yet tight grip before pinning your entwined fingers next to your head. You squeeze his hand as soon as you feel the familiar yet profound release that you know will be a messy gushing release.

“I’m close, Hee.” You inform him in a weak moan as the intensity of his thumb rubbing your clit sends you hurtling to the edge and his thrusts become unyielding and forceful, bordering on intoxication, making you arch your body into him.

He can feel his own pleasure teetering as he squeezes your hand. “Let it go for me anytime, baby. Daddy’s got you.” He whispers affectionately in your ear, his hips snapping into yours as his cock lodges deeper to the hilt.

You hook one arm around his neck, needing him close to you as you are teetering on the edge of sheer pleasure. The sounds of your whiny moans and mewls go straight to his cock as it twitches inside of you, on the verge of release. With one last push, his own orgasm washes over him violently at the same time your release gushes out in an uncontrollable fluid while your body convulses beneath him, soaking him and the sheets entirely, finally attaining the pinnacle of your pleasures.

Still rubbing your slick clit to prolong your delicious orgasm, he looks at you, feeling the insatiable beast within him growling for more of you as he watches your delicate features twisting in pure pleasure with silent moans leaving your parted lips while you continue to bathe him with your gushing essence.

Heeseung can’t resist capturing your swollen lips, his hips faltering while his cock remains inside of your cunt that is brimmed with the union of your releases. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue roaming around your hot cavern lazily and licking the seams of your lips before devouring you again.

You remain rocking your hips despite him pressing his hips into yours. Your fingers go tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands that bring him pleasure as he groans lowly into your mouth. You continue to make out with him, basking in the post-orgasmic release while the exertion begins to dawn in your limbs.

“I missed you so much.” You mewl into the kiss, tears welling behind your closed eyelids as he kisses you sweetly yet softly that flutters your heart. You pull his body closer to you with your legs wrapped around his thigh, craving this much-needed intimacy that you have been craving for ever since his long absence.

“I missed you more, baby.” He murmurs against your parted lips, allowing you to gasp for air. He begins to litter his kisses down on your neck. “I love you.” He utters, his voice laced with affection that feels profound, while his chest blooms at the realisation that he is finally back in your arms, back to you.

You cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I love you more.” You tell him, your voice trembling with emotions as you gaze at him tearfully, unbelieving at the fact that someone like him is your lover.

His eyes soften at the tears rolling down your stained cheeks freely once more. “Not more than I do.” He whispers, dipping his head down and kissing you deeply on the lips, pouring every bit of his emotions into the way he kisses you.

Heeseung pulls away from you while you whimper at the loss of his warmth on your body, only to find yourself being lifted by him as he rolls you on top of him, your lower abdomen pressing into his cock that slowly renews with vigour.

“Heeseung.” You whine, feeling both amazement and shock at the fact that he manages to get hard again in a short span of time. You force yourself to raise your upper body with your palms on his pectoral muscles for support.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He grunts as soon as your walls envelop him, his hands pressing you down by the hips while you slowly sink onto his cock with a broken moan. “Want you to ride my cock.”

Just like that, the two of you succumb to the abyss of sheer pleasure once more, losing yourselves in the heady mix of sweat, lust, and love. You even lose track of time for the hours ever since he started fucking you, and he fucks you in every position that is accessible for him to seek your lips in a kiss occasionally.

By the time Heeseung decides to fuck you for the last time, your pussy is leaking with the union of your insatiable release so much that it stains your sheet to the point where it practically collects a pool of white sticky cum.

You begin to feel the need to let go again for the last time as your legs are shaking tremendously from the unrelenting overstimulation, finding yourself in a position that is similar to a mating press with your knees being folded and your legs spread widely for him. You feel more exposed compared to any position, your battered pussy being spread open by his thrusting cock.

“I need to come.” You hope you sound coherent enough after the incapability of enunciating anything other than a litany of moans, whines, and whimpers. Your glossy eyes scan his face again, admiring how he manages to maintain his hotness in the way his dark eyes penetrate into yours with the strands of his hair falling over his forehead that are soaked with his sweat.

“Me too, baby.” He says, his voice sounding rough at the edges as he delivers one impactful thrust that triggers both of your orgasms that have been teetering on the same edge, his cum filling your used, battered cunt to the brim.

As the last echoes of ecstasy wane in the air, you allow your spent body to fall limp with your terribly aching legs remaining trembling from the countless orgasms he coaxed from you. Though your need is fully sated, you feel an overwhelming need to break down with the whirlpool of emotions unabating within you.

Before you know it, a loud cry escapes you while your chest feels oddly tightened. The waterfalls come down uncontrollably despite your efforts to curb this unexplainable feeling inside of you. All you know is the need to let out those tears.

But Heeseung shows no sign of panic, as if he knows that this would happen. Instead, he positions himself next to you and cradles your trembling body close to him. He tucks your face in the nook of his neck while you continue to sob out profusely, your hands blindly seeking his warmth and skin as they roam around his torso before hugging him tight.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” He whispers in your ear with an overflowing affection that only seems to bring out more sobs from you. With one arm around the expanse of your shoulders, he places the other on your lower back and draws soothing circles on your skin, grounding you to the moment as he pulls you closer to him. “You did amazing, my sweet girl. Daddy is so proud of you.”

Amidst the relentless downpour of your emotions, you silently preen at his praise. He continues to whisper sweet words softly in your ear, his arms holding you like you’re his prized possession, never letting you go. He presses butterfly kisses all over your face as soon as your cries and sobs abate, leaving only occasional hiccups from you that sound adorable to his ears.

A soft whine emits from the back of your throat as the pain, the aches, and the overall exertion dawn on your wrecked body profoundly while your eyes burn from the aftermath of shedding incessant tears. “I know, I know.” He says in a soft hush, his lips pressing on your hairline as he continues to coax you. “Let me take care of you now.”

Something inside of you snaps painfully when your lover pulls away from you, leaving your still-trembling body alone on the bed as he stands on his feet further from you. “Don’t leave me.” You whimper in pain, your chest heaving erratically as you can feel sobs coming up to your throat.

Heeseung looks at you with the softest and gentlest gaze that provides you a minuscule bit of comfort for your distressed mind. “I won’t. I’m just going to fill up the bathtub, but I’ll come back to you soon.” He tells you assuringly before turning his back on you and making his way to the bathroom quickly, because seeing your heartbroken eyes seems to hurt his heart.

His hands work methodically as he prepares everything that is needed while waiting for the bathtub to be filled up with the right temperature, but his mind is not in the present as it drifts to you, needing to be by your side as soon as possible. Once he’s done, he wastes no time in returning to you, finding you all curled up on your side with sniffles leaving you.

Heeseung bends down next to the bed until he meets your glossy eyes. “We’re going to take a bath together, alright, baby?” He says as he strokes your wet cheek tenderly.

“Okay.” You utter weakly, sniffling for another time before you attempt to raise your body, only for him to slide his arms underneath you and lift you up with ease. You want to let him know that you can walk on your own since you know that he must feel exhausted too, but even uttering a word feels like a heavy chore.

So you lean into him with your head resting on his shoulder, your eyelids feeling heavier by each passing second. You squirm lightly in his hold when he submerges into the filled bathtub with you before he positions you carefully where you find yourself seated in between his legs with your back pressing into his chest. Eventually, your body goes completely lax as you allow the warm temperature of the water to seep into your aching muscles.

The low groan of relief rumbling from his chest behind you sends you the shivers as the bath soothes his spent body, but you relax again as you lean into him with his arms around your waist. Comfortable silence wraps around the two of you as you bask in this much-needed intimacy while he occasionally gives you kisses on your crown and forehead.

Seeing how languid you are, Heeseung is determined to take extra care of your well-being — washing your hair and massaging your scalp, lathering soap on your body while you mindlessly follow his gentle instruction for him to rinse every part of you. He is being expertly careful with practiced patience, knowing that you are still sensitive from the aftermath.

And you notice it; even the little actions he does, you really do. It makes your heart swell with emotions as you can feel his love in the way he takes care of you. You want to reciprocate, but you are not in the right headspace just yet.

“How are you feeling right now, baby?” Heeseung murmurs against your hair while he strokes your bare arm tenderly, now holding you close to him with his arm around your waist and soaking yourselves in the bathtub for a little longer.

“Sore.” You mumble numbly as you turn your head to look at him with glossy eyes before snuggling into his solid, dependent body. “Want you to hold me close like this.” You whine, curling your body into him as you position his arms a little higher and closer to you.

His breathy chuckles awaken the butterflies in your tummy. “I would like nothing more.”

Time eventually passes by where you are now seated on the edge of your stained and ruined bed, adorned in Heeseung’s oversized shirt and underwear, not bothering to put on any pants. The sound of his footsteps draws your attention as you slowly lift your head, watching him put on a white shirt that sadly conceals his toned physique.

Heeseung stares at the ruined bed with a frown, his eyes narrowing in slight disgust at the sight of the soaked bed sheets, some parts of which are pooled with white sticky cum, but there is a sense of pride at the fact that he managed to make that much of a mess out of you. He exhales through his nose as he runs his fingers through his damp hair. It looks like he’ll do the laundry tomorrow instead, or rather later since the time has struck five in the morning.

When his eyes search for yours, his frown deepens as your cheeks shine with crystalline tears that cascade down silently. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, his mellow tone lacing with a sense of urgency.

Heeseung already expected you to cry from the intensity of your shared passion earlier, but seeing you crying silently right now hits him in the guts, rendering him panicked at the thought of his action or word hurting your feelings.

“I’m fine. I just need—“ You pause, allowing yourself to release a soft sob while you languidly wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. “I just need some time to calm down properly.”

But Heeseung is not convinced, prompting him to kneel in front of you. Despite your blurry vision, you can see the pain contorting in his handsome features. His jaw clenches as you continue to cry silently. “Shit. Was I too rough on you?” He asks, anger rousing within him at himself, but the devastation is prominent in the way he speaks to you. “Was I too much? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby—“

“No, you didn’t.” You cut him off quickly, but the dubiety in his eyes remains. You sniffle and look away from him, your face flushing warmly. “You could even go rougher on me next time.” You mutter shakily.

Heeseung feels genuine confusion, uncertain whether or not to believe your declaration when tears continue to cascade down your beautiful face. “If so, then why are you still crying?”

“I have no idea, but I just feel the need to let it out.” You tell him honestly, sniffling for the last time before feeling the warmth of his palm on your cheek. You lean into his touch as he wipes your tears away. “It’s probably because the sex was too good.”

For a moment, there is silence, but it is shattered by his melodious chuckles. Your heart pounds harder when he embraces you into a comforting hug as you bask in his scent. “Baby, you got me so worried because I thought I did hurt you.” He says, his fingers stroking the back of your head.

“You could never hurt me, Hee.” You utter as you slowly pull away from the hug, and you are hit by a familiar melancholia that derives from the reflection and sentiment you kept hidden for a long time. “You’re a good man, and you’re too good for someone like me.”

Heeseung feels his face drop the same way his heart slowly sinks as he notices the raw vulnerability in your glistening eyes and how there is a palpable tremor in your voice. “No, baby, we don’t do that kind of talking, alright?” He doesn’t mean to sound so stern, but he fears to hear the next words that come out of your mouth.

“I’ve been feeling insecure, Hee.” You finally reveal your deepest insecurity, whimpering as you hug yourself. You continue to pour out your feelings without looking at him because you know that you’d only break down again. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been going on tours more often for months, but there were moments where I questioned myself: what did I have to offer to someone like you?”

You hear him sighing softly, but you don’t grant him any opportunity to intervene. “You’re a popular rising k-idol, and you’re incredibly extraordinary with talents other than your handsomeness.” A weak chuckle leaves your lips, but then comes the heart-wrenching feeling that twists painfully inside you. “But I realised that I’m not in the same league as you.”

“Baby—“

“Your line of work often requires you to be surrounded by attractive people in the same league as you, and they have more to offer than I ever will.” Your voice breaks at the thought of him losing interest in you, and of course he might since you’re bland compared to someone like him. You recoil from him, as though he’s hurting you. “I don’t deserve you, Heeseung.”

“Sweetheart, stop.” He forces himself to sound assertively stern, eliciting a whimper from you. He rises from the floor, only to take a seat next to you without any space in between. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his sorrowful eyes. “If these things have been constantly plaguing your mind, then I have failed as your boyfriend.”

“What? No, you have not, and you have never!” You exclaim with vehemence, surprised at how strong your voice comes out, but the words that leave from your sweet, loving boyfriend’s mouth ignite something akin to anger. Your eyes reflect your self-resentment and bitterness as you look at him. “I’m the one who failed as your girlfriend! I let my emotions and insecurities get the best of me, and I’m bothering you with such trivial matters.”

“Listen to me, please?” He pleads softly as he cups your cheeks, and you clamp your quivering lips shut, your eyes searching for his, noticing the raw vulnerability that reflects your own. “You may find it hard to believe me, but I’ve been having similar thoughts to yours. I've been feeling the same insecurity too.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning, because why would your confident boyfriend, who is a popular rising star and who also happens to be very attractive, be insecure?

“Sometimes I feel like I’m undeserving of you and your love. I often wondered if I was the right man for you because honestly, sweetheart, you deserve so much better.” He confesses, his voice trembling with emotions despite his collected demeanour. He leans his forehead against yours without letting go of your face. “I took you for granted, be it intentionally or unintentionally.”

You shake your head lightly. “But you have never—“

“You told me that I’m too good for you, but it’s actually the opposite.” He smiles weakly as he strokes your soft cheek with his thumbs, gazing into your eyes. “I relied on you a lot for emotional support despite you having to deal with your own emotional baggage, but you’re always so good to me, and you always made it look so easy. It is one of the reasons why I fell for you. Your resilience and compassion. It’s truly admirable — you are admirable.”

You want to spill the tears teetering in your waterline, but your chest blooms delightfully at his kind, genuine words that move you so deeply, and so you continue to listen to him while offering comfort as you place your palms on top of his hands.

“And whenever I had to leave for tours, where I’d be miles apart from you, my heart broke each time at the reality of being apart from the woman I would always need.” The yearning in his deliverance tears a soft sob from you. A warm smile spreads across his lips before he leans in to kiss your wet cheek. “You’re the pillar of my strength, sweetheart, and I would want to spend the rest of my life with someone as beautiful and amazing as you."

Heeseung drops his hands and leans away from you while you watch him with curiosity as he seems to be retrieving something from the pocket of his pants. “Which is why I bought you this.”

There is an emotional lump in your throat when he opens the small blue velvety box that contains two similar platinum rings. “Heeseung.” You utter his name weakly, uncertain which emotions you want to express.

Heeseung adorns a boyish grin that makes you fall in love with him all over again. “I did promise you during that video call that I’d be buying you a ring.” He says as he grabs one of the rings and holds your hand before sliding it onto your ringless finger with ease as it fits around you perfectly.

“Now your turn.” He encourages you to take the ring from the box before you do the same to his ring finger while your insides remain a jittering mess.

“You even got my size perfectly.” You murmur as you examine the ring on your finger with sparkling eyes, feeling incredibly touched despite wondering how he even managed to.

“Well, I might or might not have stolen one of your rings and carry it with me wherever I go.” He confesses, smirking at you mischievously, and that earns him a playful scowl from you, but in all honesty, there is nothing more romantic than him confessing that he carries your ring wherever he goes.

Instead of admiring his own ring, Heeseung watches you with pure adoration as you keep examining yours like it is now the most meaningful thing to you. “Technically, we could be engaged now. Plus, I did say that I intend on marrying you someday.”

Your heart flutters while he wipes the leftover tear stains on your cheeks. You look at him with a smile that hits Cupid's arrow to his heart. “So is this like a promise ring?” You ask shyly.

“Something like that, but the most important thing about our rings is that it will serve as a reminder to us.” He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Your heart pounds harder when he places a kiss on the ring itself. His eyes soften when he looks at you again. “A reminder that we would always go back to each other when we’re apart.”

You can’t seem to articulate your feelings, but your eyes speak volumes of the love you have for him, an unconditional kind of love. “I still have to figure things out on how to make you stay by my side even when I need to attend to my idol-work responsibilities.” He sighs softly, but the firm determination in his eyes provides more than just an assurance to you, dispelling any insecurities you once had. “But for now, if I ever have to leave you again, I hope that when you look at this ring, you’ll remember that I’ll go back to you, like I always have.”

“I love you, Lee Heeseung.” You utter, your voice softening as you cradle his face tenderly. “I love you so, so much.”

He smiles softly before grabbing your hand and placing a deep kiss on your palm. “I love you more than you love me.” He declares in between the kisses while his eyes remain gazing at you with pure love and affection. “No one could ever come close to my heart that belongs to you since day one.”

“Since the day you had a crush on me?” You ask cheekily while you gaze at him like a lovesick fool, a lazy smile stretching across your lips.

“Damn right.” He smirks at you before leaning forward to lift you up, eliciting a playful squeal from you as he settles you on top of him, sitting sideways. His nose brushes against yours delicately, tenderly. “You had my heart first back then, even before I realised it.”

With that you close the distance as you lean into him, your lips colliding with his in a shared tenderness, kissing him sweetly while the world fades into insignificance.

The room is cold, but his body provides the warmth you need as you are spooned by him, and the bed the two of you chose to sleep in is situated in the guest room, considering that the bed in your shared room with him is ruined.

Your leg is thrown over his, hugging him as though he’s your bolster. Your arms are wrapped around his torso, and your head is tucked against his chest, allowing you to hear his steady heartbeat that has become your lullaby. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are already staring into yours, awakening butterflies in your tummy.

“Why are you not asleep?” You ask in a hushed tone, your lips turning down into a frown.

He raises his eyebrow at you, and you can see mischief in the way his lips twitch into a smirk. “Because I couldn’t sleep?”

You roll your eyes at him and huff. “Isn’t that the obvious.”

“Can I ask you something?” He speaks up after contemplating ever since he tucked you into bed with him.

“What is it?” You ask as you adjust your position where your chin is resting on his chest, your eyes sparkling with interest that brings out a chuckle from him.

“Do you really get turned on whenever you watch me perform?” He runs his fingers along your bare thigh absentmindedly. Oh, he has been thinking about this for a while now, ever since your confession during that video call.

“I do, but just certain songs that you perform.” You reaffirm with a sheepish smile, ignoring the goosebumps on your skin at the sensation of his fingers caressing your thigh. “Besides, who wouldn’t get turned on to see her hot boyfriend going wild on stage?”

He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “I go wild on stage?” The question itself elicits a scoff from you because there is no way he doesn’t realise it.

“Yeah, you do. Not that I’m complaining. Got your fans going crazy most of the time.” You chuckle but pout instantly at the familiar bitterness in your chest. “But it got me feeling quite jealous too with how you were so into it, showing all that to other people.”

“Sweetheart, you know I only have eyes for you.” He says softly, distracting you when he squeezes the flesh of your thigh that has your breath hitching. “And you’re the only woman I get turned on over for.”

“Heeseung.” Your face flushes warmer than it did before.

He grins deviously as he sees how flustered you look. “Did you forget that I also promised that we’d be fucking every day once I came back?”

You scoff out a chuckle. “Good luck with that, because I’m sore everywhere right now, and I’d probably wake up late.” You say, attempting to retract your limbs from your dangerous lover, who looks like he is about to pounce on you anytime now.

But he has you in a firm grip. His hand moves to your round bum and squeezes it. “But baby….”

Shaky breaths leave your lips as you struggle to compose yourself. “Gosh, your sex drive is insane.” You mutter breathlessly, but your heart pounds harder while your clit tingles familiarly.

“Can’t help it when you’re the woman I’m in love with.” He smirks lazily as he dips his head down to kiss you on the lips, and you find yourself reciprocating eagerly. He pulls away, his breath mingling with yours. “Plus, I get turned on by you even when you breathe.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And hot.” He adds while the smirk on his lips never falters.

You can practically hear your pussy purring in agreement. You hum, adorning a lazy smile on your kissable lips that he can’t help but to kiss again. “The hottest ever.” You mumble against his lips.

The comfortable silence returns, but it doesn’t last long when he calls for you again. “Sweetheart?” You hum sleepily in response as the weight in your eyelids gets heavier.

A couple beats of silence. “Do you ever want to ride your pretty pussy on my face? Because I’m into that.” He blurts out rather bluntly, and just like that, you are rendered fully awake in disbelief.

“Baby, no.” You tell him with a frown, but a part of you feels enticed by the idea.

“Come on. It’d be hot with you sitting on top of me and making a mess all over my face.” He reasons with you that you find ridiculous, and yet your mind proceeds to produce such lewd images that faintly ignite a desire in you. “Maybe I’d get you to rub your clit on my throat since I know you have a thing for my Adam's apple.”

You groan into his chest. “Heeseung, sleep.”

But your lover is relentless, even when he’s teasing, or perhaps he’s not at the moment. “I’m definitely making you ride my face.” He says confidently with a smirk when you shoot him a glare, now raising your upper body to look at his face better.

“I’ll shut you up with my pussy if you don’t stop talking.” You say the words that come to your mind instantly without realising they seem to spur him further.

In a blink of an eye, he flips you over, pinning you on the bed with one hand planted next to your head. You can feel your chest purring as he tilts your chin with his fingers while his thumb goes stroking along your jawline.

His eyes darken dangerously, but you know that he still has control over his desire. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.”

Maybe you should threaten him with a good time more often now.