#Window Tinting Classes

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ let me blow your mind

pairing: badboy!han jisung x f!reader

genre: one-shot, high school au, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: a lot of marking! ⋆ groping! ⋆ biting!⋆ light!spanking ⋆ experienced!han and inexperienced!reader ⋆ dry humping ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ dirty talking (han has a nasty mouth) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ squirting ⋆ face!cumshot

summary: you noticed him watching you from afar, though it never occurred to you why han jisung, the school��s bad boy, would be watching a shy, nerdy girl like you, but before you can even blink, you are thrown into a world of pleasure and right into his greedy hands

request by @khandzilla

main masterlist

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He thinks you are doing it on purpose. Your teeth nibbling, chewing at your pencil. Pink tinted lips, wrapping around it and staining it — and he just knows that the lip balm you always apply is strawberry flavored. You always sit at the front of the class, like the good student that you are and even from the back of the room, he can see the sweat glistening on your skin. In his opinion schools should not be open at such weather, but he isn’t that against it, because he could see more of your white thigh highs sliding down your yummy thighs. Such a good student — there has never been a day when he hasn’t seen you wearing the school uniform. You always made it look so good and especially when the weather was too much for your luscious skin to handle. The sleeves of your white blouse are rolled up and to his delight few buttons undone at the top, but to his displeasure hair not put up to show off your neck. Everyday he tried to at least catch a glimpse of new skin.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He ignores his friends snickering, the loud noise disturbing his thoughts for a split second. His head falls into his hand, leaning to the side when of the students moves before him and into his view. He is only pulled away from his thoughts when you turn around to look at the teacher. He only at that realized that the teacher is walking around the class to hand out their graded tests. Han doesn’t even have to see it, he knows that he totally blew it. It didn’t matter, l the only good grade that matters is yours.

No, he doesn’t want to say that it’s a crush. To be honest it’s a borderline obsession. He wouldn’t go to school so often if you weren’t there, he doesn’t even care about keeping up his reputation anymore. He had basically memorized your whole schedule — you are always the first person in class, glasses almost falling off your nose as you are always buried in some textbook, you are always eating few pieces of fruit during the third break — strawberries, just like your lip balm, are your favorite, then your are eating lunch at the far corner of the cafeteria where you are looking out of the window and mostly, he memorized how you would always push your skirt down — how your tits would strain against your blouse and how you would apply your lip balm with that cute pout — there’s a individual obsession just with your lips and he wonders if they taste just as sweet as the look…and from what he has seen, you are also super sweet. He doesn’t talk to you, he wants to, but it’s way more fun making you flustered when you catch him staring. He wonders if you like him, because you are shy around literally everyone, however he wants to say that he is the one. He didn’t talk to you, just observed you, waiting for the golden opportunity to arrive and when the teacher goes to hand him his test he sees it.

Han notices the teacher’s frown before even seeing his score. “Do something about it, buddy…” Sighs out Mr. Lee, his tone almost sounding fatherly. Pity is the last thing Han wants, and he knows his friends won’t offer it anyway. They laugh at his score, loudly cheering when one of them matches it. Zero, in bold red and circled, just as he expected. He’s never been good at this sort of thing — put him in an English class and he will score the highest, when it comes to a physics test, only one person can do that.

Han looks up from the paper, eyes going back to the front and he has to hide a small smile appearing on his face, when he sees you already looking at him. Just from the corner of your eye, subtly, masking it as if you are looking at the teacher who happens to reach your desk at that moment. You tried to be sneaky, but when you met his eyes, you instantly look away, almost giving yourself a whiplash. “Good job, Y/N.” Says the teacher and you flash him a small smile of gratitude, putting your 100% marked test on your desk. And then Han sees it.

Maybe it’s easier than he thought.

────

You already sprayed the entire capsule of your portable perfume on yourself. You are sweating from head to toe and you for the first time wished that you were wearing anything other than your uniform right now. Even if your tie is loose, it feels like it’s choking you, scratching at your neck. You also hope no one, especially him, can smell your nerves. You feel like you died a little when you caught him staring again and you know, you can’t possibly face him anymore. You are already in rush you want to say, few hours of classes still ahead of you, so when you dash out the door that’s your excuse. Though can’t help, but wonder if he will ever talk to you and just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear someone call out to you.

“Y/N—“ The well known voice sings out your name. You feel your heart jumping, stopping in the packed hallway. You feel so many eyes on you right now, the cheerleaders few feet away from you, glaring daggers at you. You are already feeling hot, but now you are sweating just from the way he said your name. To be honest you thought he didn’t even know you which is kind of stupid — you always catch him looking at you, but you want to say that it is just a coincidence every single time. You slowly turn around and you breathe out shakily when he literally jumps right in front of you.

Han breathes heavily, chest rising up and down and you can’t look at him when his shirt is so open that you think he should be dress coded. Your eyes fall onto his tie instead, hanging low on his neck, but you still see the bright smile on his face. You don’t even want to think about how you two look next to each other. You — hugging your textbooks close to your chest as much as possible to calm your racing heart, hair sticking to your sweaty skin and him — shining brighter than a star, effortlessly gorgeous and confident in his stance.

He pushes his hair back, eyes wide to get a full look at you. You are slouching a little to appear smaller and he almost coos at how cute you look, however his eyes go a little lower and not in innocent manner. No one can judge him for looking down your blouse when your tits are perfectly smashed together and thinking about licking your salty sweat off them. His nose is hit with a big whiff of your perfume and it’s so intoxicating that he almost doubles over. When you push your glasses up on your nose, it pulls him out of the magic spell your perfume held him in. “Are you free after school?” He should’ve said it differently, but the look on your face was definitely worth it.

Your lips parted, finally glancing up at him. You can’t believe those words left his mouth. You feel your heart pounding, ears ringing. However when you give a small glance your eyes drift behind him instead. “Ehm…” Your eyes fall on his friends, leaning on the lockers and staring right at the two of you. They have their lips turned up into smiles and you hope it’s not what you think it is. This can’t be just some kind of joke, because when your eyes drift back to Han his eyes are shinning with hope. “Why?” You ask, quietly not being able to look at him fully from how intensely his stare is.

“Well—“ Han notices your attention drifting off, eyes going back and forth between him and something behind him. He frowns, turning around to look back and when he sees his friends he almost screams. They are visible making you uncomfortable and even if their smiles were nothing, but teasing, he doesn’t want you looking anywhere else than him. With the first word still on the tip of his mouth, he blocks your view with his body, resulting in him standing right in front of you. “You’re really good at Mr. Lee’s class.” Han could have gotten to the point a long time ago, but he purposely makes this small conversation last longer, just to shake you up a bit more.

You feel heat traveling to your face, eyes glaring at his tie, but now he is way closer. The fact he is not afraid to walk into your personal bubble should make you uncomfortable and it in some point does, but it also awakens butterflies in your stomach. You become giddy inside and you can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it quickly fell at his intense look. “Thank you.” You whisper in question, perfectly done eyebrows rising to your forehead at disbelief. Han bites his lips, just like you are doing right now, completely unknowingly and he swears he can taste the strawberries on your mouth from here.

“Will you tutor me?” He asks and you have to step back a little to glance at him better, because you can’t breathe from how close he keeps getting. You pause at the ‘will’, he already knows that you won’t say no. “I suck so bad at physics and if I don’t do good at the next exam, I’m done. Mr. Lee said you are the only one who can safe me.” He says, exaggerating with his big expressions. He huffs, frowns and mostly looks at you with big puppy eyes.

Han drowns in your bashful state when he says the last sentence, you trying not to melt at his feet from the tone of his voice. You are just so overly taken back by this interaction that it is kind of hard to fully take it all in. You are already shocked that he walked up to you, talked to you and now he wants — no, needs your help? You don’t know if you can take it. “I-I—“ Your mouth is open, words at the tip of your tongue. However your mind is empty as you are not even sure what to say to him. Your mind goes back to his smirking friends and then to those jealous cheerleaders whose glares you still feel on your back. So much attention at once and mostly from him. Han waits, hands in his pockets, but both of you already know what you are going to say next. “I-I guess, I can—“

Han claps, the sound startling you, but he doesn’t see it as he looks at ceiling in greatfulness, though you don’t know it is mostly because of something else. “Thank you, Y/N! You’re a savior!” You shrink back at his loud voice, few people passing by you whispering to themselves. You feel hot, ready to pass out. You didn’t say yes, but also not no, you are not really sure what you wanted more — to go home after school or tutor him, well, he seems to know the answer for you. “Meet me before the school after?” Han says, already jumping back to walk back to his friends.

Your shuttering is cute, glasses fogging up at the bottom from your heavy sigh. “Oh, yeah!” Your voice breaks at the end and you want the floor to swallow you whole, but he only flashes you one of his dazzling smiles at the sound.

You stand there frozen in your spot, looking at him with small disbelief. You are already full of anxiety from just imagining yourself talking to him, he on the other hand only feels delight. He beams brightly, ignoring the remarks from his friends to look back at you for the last time. His eyes fall to the back of your thighs, hand keeping up your right sock up and he just can’t wait to see your skin up close again.

────

You are for the rest of the day on high alert, but at the same time and for the first, you see yourself not paying too much attention to your classes. Your hands are shaking, lip quivering. You don’t see Han anymore till lunch, however your eyes are staring into your book, though not even reading. He watched you the whole time, like usually, but other than lunch he didn’t go near you. You noticed that, but maybe you are just delusional, maybe those other times he actually wasn’t really everywhere near you, just like now. Maybe you are actually reading too much into things.

Han on the other hand really tried hard not to go near you. A lot of people were whispering about how there’s something going on between him and the nerdy, shy girl — well, not yet, he wants to say. He stays away from you to make you even more nervous and after school when he finally will meet up with you, you will be all shaken up, shuttering cutely like you always do.

When you stepped out of the school, the sun was already setting. You felt exhausted, but at the same time not at all, because you know you will not be able to relax because of him. For whatever reason…You stood at the end of the stairs to the main entrance, watching people walk by you, chatting. You kept looking down at your phone, reading the time minute by minute. It was getting really late for you and your heart kept beating faster the longer you stood there.

Han thinks he literally breathes just because of you. He can’t help those feelings and the thoughts running through him when he watches you stand there under the stairs, waiting for him. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, glasses hanging low on your nose and he melts when you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. The way his heart skips a beat when he sees you move to turn around and walk away, breaks him and yet again it pulls him out his thoughts. He can’t let you get away, not when you are already so close, so he runs to catch up with you.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you and you are again startled by a booming voice. “Y/N, wait!” Han yells at you and your ears ring from just how loud he always is. You turn subtly around and he shakes his head at your unusual posture. It looks like you are guarding yourself. “Where are you going?” He asks you, puffing out air.

Shrugging softly, your eyes fall on the lit lamps around you and then the Moon. “Well it’s kind of late…” You are surprised by your leveled voice, but when you turn to look at him your voice dies at the end. You hate when you do that, it’s so embarrassing and even more when infront of him. You are actually surprised he even showed up, because you were really starting to think, it really was a joke after all, but how could you think that? He is so sweet…however, when looking at you, he thinks the exact opposite of himself.

Han is starting to panic a little at your words, walking around you to get a better look at you. “Huh?” He exclaims, glancing at his reflection in your glasses. “You promised to tutor me.” He pouts then, furrowing his eyebrows. You don’t hear the little fake tone in his voice, but his hurt expression melts your guard a little.

You didn’t promise him anything or did you? You can’t even think right now. “The library is closed.” You state softly.

He fights the urge to smirk, smiling only a little. “Yeah, I know.” He definitely knows. “I was thinking about going over to my place…to study of course.” Han drinks up your flustered state, the moment the words left him, you turned away so he wouldn’t see your face of shock. He can taste your shyness on his lips already and he is slowly starting to shake in excitement when you turn back to him.

The thought of going back to his place…it never crossed your mind. You definitely can’t handle being in a basically locked room where there would be just the two of you. On the other hand, you can’t say that the thought isn’t making you curious. “I don’t know…” You mumble, glancing at him briefly.

“Come on—“ He pressed, taking a bold step closer to you. “I won’t keep you up late.” Now there’s that smirk and when you timidly nod, he wants to kneel before you right then and there. The excitement pumping in him almost makes his veins burst, cheeks flushing just by the thought of you sitting on his bed and talking with that cute voice of yours. “Come on then, I won’t bite. It will be just the two of us, don’t worry.” Of course, he didn’t pay his roommate to stay out of their shared flat tonight.

���Yeah, that’s what worries me’, you think. He walks you two back to his place, you keeping a small distance from him and he definitely didn’t like that. He lets you though, he would let you do anything and everything. Walking with you, his steps are quick, just to have more time with you inside his room. He really wants to know what is going on in the little head of yours. He wants to get under your skin, know your biggest likes and dislikes, fears and desires — what makes you shake. Han is acting crazy around you and you don’t even see it. You are so smart, but also such a dummy...He needs to show you, make you feel what you deserve.

The walk is silent, but it doesn’t take long before you two are standing in the elevator, waiting for it to lift you up to the 10th floor. It’s unusually quiet, no parties, no one in your way and he sees it as a blessing. You are not looking at him, even when you finally get into his shared apartment, but he knows he has your attention. He licks his lips, dry and thirsty and his whole head is spinning when he enters his room with you right behind him.

Your eyes go around his room, genuinely surprised by how clean it is. The walls are full of movie posters, musicians — your eyes land on his desk which is messy on the other hand. When you see the known magazine peeking out of the scattered papers, you instantly feel heat rising to your cheeks. You realize that he has been watching you the whole time when you glance at him and you are weakened by his look. His fingers play with the blue tie around his neck, nibbling at the material, loosening it and you breathe out sharply at the sight.

He finally has you in his room, he couldn’t believe it. “Take a seat.” Han says, gesturing to his unmade bed. Your eyes widened a little and his on the other hand close a little when your fingers just barely graze over his duvet.

“Here?” You mumble, playing with the strap of your shoulderbag.

He laughs, he has to. “Don’t act like you have never been in a boy’s room before.” He snickers, pulling out his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t hear anything from you. His heart beats faster and he can’t help, but look somehow excited by your silence. “Fuck…really?” He is in disbelief, looking at you, just as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

He is smiling wide and you thankfully don’t see it, attention on your sock clad feet instead. You are embarrassed to admit it and also too shy to lie. You can’t never lie or say no, it angers you a little, but Han could do that for you if you let him. He could be your voice, yours everything if you let him. Seeing you sitting on his bed, arched back as you fumble inside your bag is not helping him keep his sanity. Your tucked blouse rides up, exposing the skin of your lower back and he has to distract him by going through his playlist.

When you take out your small notebook and your phone, you suddenly hear a soft hum of music from behind you. Turning around, you see Han putting down his speaker which is playing a way too inappropriate song to listen to while studying. The low bass makes you vibrate and the thoughts of doing something completely different fill your mind. Why does he have to keep doing that? He is getting under your skin with his smooth moves and what you want to say, flirting. You don’t even know what it stands for really, maybe playing music while walking to your bed to lay down you means nothing.

“Won’t that be distracting you?” You wonder out loud, eyes still on the speaker even if he goes to sit on the bed with you.

“Not really.” He says, while looking at you. “Just don’t want you to hear my thoughts.” He whispers and you shiver at the tone of his voice, however you masked it well by shuffling a little more up on the bed. His eyes immediately fall down your shirt, watching your tits jump from your moves and he swears he can see the lace of your bra — was it baby pink?

“So what do you need help with?” You cough in your hand not to shutter again and it worked out well for you. You push for glasses up your nose, fanning your skirt so it drapes over your thighs, but from his point of view, he still can thankfully see your skin.

“Everything, honestly.” He laughs shortly.

You nod. “Let’s start with the basics then—“

You swear, he does it on purpose. Pushing his hair back, leaning back on his hands, looking with you with that twinkle in his eyes again and again. You don’t know what it is, you are not sure if you want to know. Every time your mouth would open, his attention drifts away, yet he looks only at you. You can see it in his eyes that he is somewhere else and it definitely reflected in his answers. Every one was incorrect and you don’t want to say that you are starting to get frustrated, but you explained everything to him at least twice, you told him a couple of good ways how to solve the questions, but no.

Also, something else didn’t help you keep your cool either. His room was awfully hot, even worse than a school’s classroom. You want to say it’s the weather, not those fuckboy-like songs — his playlist is vile or the way his also sweaty chest glistened in the city’s lights. The soft night breeze couldn’t reach your skin nor the sounds of cars under his window, you were really starting to drown in yourself. Han kept getting closer and closer, subtly, but after half an hour, it became clear to you. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, like the textbooks, while half of your ass was basically hanging out of the bed. If he gets any closer you think you will start to hyperventilate.

Han of course noticed your behavior. It surely must be because of him, your voice kept going lower, quieter, the more he shuffled closer to you. Your skin was almost drenching with sweat and the way your perfume flooded his whole room, he thinks, he will never open his bedroom window ever again. He can’t say that he also isn’t sweating and you definitely noticed that, because your eyes kept drifting to his naked chest. Maybe he should’ve changed and maybe he should’ve let you borrow something, so he then could cuddle with it later, but it would only ruin his fantasy.

He smiles again at your cute frown of frustration, it’s nice seeing something different on your face. Your pretty voice starts to melt more into the song, the more he looks at you. Never had been in a boys room…huh, he wonders if you have ever been with anyone before. One side is telling him yes, because — fuck, look at you. The school’s uniform looks on you way more sinful that it should and also your plush body, pink lips and pretty eyes hidden behind your glasses. Also you are a sweet person! Why does he keep forgetting about that? You are way more than your looks, you have brains and also charm that you don’t even know about. He wants to do more with you than just this, way more, but his filthy thoughts win over. On the other hand, you are just so shy, has someone ever tasted you? Suck at your pretty neck and tits, grabbed a handful of your ass? Tongue fucked you? Pulled your hair? Choked you? Bit you, mark you up…

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” He cuts you off, not even realizing it, till your lips press into thin line. “Loosen up a little.”

You sigh, putting down your notebook to pull at your tie. “It’s just so hot…” You feel sweat dripping down your back a little, inner thighs glued together, because you didn’t change your position once in fear you would flash him. ‘Pity’, he thinks, staring at you while pulling off your tie with your painted nails — baby pink, just like your lips.

You literally have him wrapped around your finger, how can you not see it? Maybe if you would for once look at him in the eyes for long enough than you would see it. His eyes like to always drift lower and he just can’t help it when you look like that. Why do you? And why do you not see it yourself? Fuck, he wants to show you how pretty you are…He can’t go any longer, his mind is already all over the place and when he sees a glimpse of your bra, he has to fist his pants. Baby pink, like he imagined — he wonders if it matches.

“Yeah, that blouse is…tight.” Han almost moans out loud, but he thankfully bites down his on lip just in time, silencing that sound. Your own eyes drift to your blouse and then back at him. “You can take it off—“ He voices out his thoughts.

You are bewildered, in disbelief from what he just said. He doesn’t even seemed a little bit moved by his own words, leaning back on his hands, eyes fully on you. Did he look into your textbook at least once? Why didn’t you realize that it was on the same page the whole time? Maybe you were too occupied with trying to sound cool and collected and his nonstop staring didn’t help at all. “I don’t think you are even paying attention.” You sigh, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“How so?” He asks, eyes going over your body and trying to memorize how it looks in the softly lit room.

“Well, you didn’t answer any of my questions right…” Which doesn’t mean, he was not paying attention, but his eyes tell you that you are right. In your state of pushing up your glasses again, you jump slightly in your seat when he sifts his weight to lean closer to you. “Why are you so close?” You ask, lump forming at the back of your throat.

Han stops moving, sitting right infront of you and trying to have a better look at eyes, but there is only the reflection of your phone screen in your glasses, preventing him from doing so. “Ask me again and if I answer correctly, I’ll get a treat.”

You frown. “Why?” You ask him.

“Motivation.”

There is short silence, the only noise being the music coming from his speaker. You take a small look around his room, squirming in your seat. “What do you mean by a treat? I don’t have any sweets…” You say, confused.

He wonders if you are truly so innocent and oblivious or if you are just playing with him. The sincere tone of your voice though told him everything he needed to know. A treat…he bets your lips taste like one. Han moves even closer, moving away your textbooks and you watch him with careful eyes. “I meant you.” He says smoothly with a cheeky smile and you are smacked across the face with his words.

He surprises you way too much and each time it’s a bigger surprise. You almost choke on your own spit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh! Oh, I-I…” And you are shuttering again, like always, but he never seems to mind. You are definitely not capable of talking right now, no words running through your mind, only him. Your hand grasping your phone is shaking and he at that points down at it.

“Ask me.”

You take a deep breath, a couple actually, because it’s seems like you can’t find it. Han’s stare is hard, unmoving from your eyes and you have to look down at your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen, asking yourself if you should keep going. You are already feeling goosebumps on your sweaty skin, just from the thought of him doing something to you, but…what if he doesn’t answer correctly? Han can’t be serious right now…With your heart hammering against your chest, you scroll down the list of questions, trying to find the hardest one, because you don’t know what you would do if he answers it correctly. You don’t know if you want him to, you don’t know what you want. What does he want? You can’t help, but be curious and scared at the same time.

Han can see your internal struggle, but nothing about your body language is telling him, you don’t actually want him. “When a police officer uses a radar gun to measure a vehicle’s speed, what type of speed is measured? “ You ask, blinking at him in the lightly lit room, voice small. You actually think that this question is not even that hard, but seeing him having trouble with the other ones, you are curious what his answer will be.

Han fights to not smirk, while staring at you and he likes how your breath hitches when he confidently pushes all the things on the bed to the floor. “Instantaneous Acceleration.” He leans closer to you and you are having hard time to back away, watching him with mouth open as he puts your phone away.

“That’s correct…” You whisper in small disbelief, because you are starting to think he’s been playing with all along. However you can’t think much about it when he goes to sit right infront you.

Han is shaking inside when he leans over you, you fanning your pretty eyelashes at him and he swears you have never looked prettier. His eyes as well as his hand fall to your exposed leg. He hears the short, sharp intake of air, feeling goosebumps appearing on your skin as he trails his hand up and down. You are silent, squirming a little from how cold his hand is, but he quickly warms it up on your own skin. You are looking at him with big eyes, lips parted as his other hand comes to caress your cheek. Your chest keeps rising rapidly and you know, he can feel your skin lighting on fire. You watch his eyes fall to your lips and yours to his by reflex. “Just a kiss, Y/N.” His voice is like honey, his breath hitting your lips.

The hand on your leg stops at the meat of your thigh and when you feel his thumb rubbing small circles on your cheekbone you are in a daze. “Just one…” You whisper back, mostly to yourself, playing with your fingers nervously.

Han was right — you do taste like strawberries. You are sweet in taste and also in your moves. With your hazy state, he sees the opportunity to let his hand travel to your waist, squeezing immediately. A small noise of surprise falls from lips, just as he leaned to kiss you softly. However the moment he tastes you, the moment he feels the subtle touch of his lips over yours, the moment you made that sound — he needed more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours.

You are trying to catch your breath through your nose, but it’s only taken away from you when moves his head to the side to lick into your mouth. Your head is empty, hands gripping at the fabric of your skirt as you try to at least keep up with him. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. When you poke your tongue against his he looses it. You are overwhelmed and he is not getting enough. Han wants to slurp at your spit, drink you whole in. He wants you to take over his own body, but at the same time, he wants to have you under him. Writhing in pleasure, fidgeting nervously from every move he makes, just like now.

He sticks his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours and he groans lowly at that. Your lips meet in nasty sounds that are perfectly mixing with the music he put on — it was perfect. The hand on your waist travels to the front, squishing the soft rolls of your tummy forming by how you are sitting. Even now you are trying to make yourself smaller, but he definitely won’t let you get away. You were so occupied by kissing him back that you let out a loud gasp when he suddenly bites down at your lip.

You pull away from him a little, the best you could do anyway, because he has you in a very tight grip. “Han! What are you doing?” You gasp out, bottom lip tingling in small pain.

Han is out of breath, a little disappointed to be pulled away so soon from you, but when he looks down at swollen lip, it didn’t matter too much. “Kissing you?” He says, smiling breathlessly and looking over your body. He can feel the weight on his hands, but also you are slightly frozen over, looking down at your lap. “Do you want to stop?”

He hopes not, he can’t live on otherwise. The hand holding your delicate face drifts down to your neck, pushing away strands of your hair to lean closer to you. His nose is hit with your sweet perfume again, eyes almost rolling back into his head. Seeing that you are not pushing him away, he leans down to kiss your skin. It tickles you, startles you from how good it feels to have his lips on your neck. He keeps distracting you with his moves, his mouth and you have to squeeze his shoulders to win his attention back. “Han, I—“

“Sorry, just can’t help it.” He whines out and you have to bite at your abused lip to silence your own sounds. You are not even recognizing yourself, while glancing at your reflection in his mirror. His body hovers over yours, both of yours legs almost tangled and you watch him pull away from you just to look down your shirt. “Do they hurt?” You are taken back by his question, following his eyes, seeing him look down your blouse.

Han is way more bold than he himself expected to be, but he can’t do anything other than act on his desires. “No…” Your bottom lip is pouts out and he almost goes to kiss you again, but he decides do something else.

You are gasping, hot breath hitting his face when his hands grasp your underboob. You are chewing already on your lip, watching his hands wrap around your tits, blunt nails digging into your skin. He definitely can feel your nipples hardening when he squeezes both of your tits at the same time. A small whimper leaves your lips and you have to shut your eyes in embarrassment.

Fuck, he knows that he probably looks crazy right now, when he literally drools over the sight of his hands on your tits. The tips of his fingers nibble at your blouse, pushing it to the side to reveal your bra to him. He is in shock that you actually wear something like that to school when someone could just take a peak or spill something over you. The almost see through fabric wraps around you so nicely, cute little bow in the middle and his thumb flickers hungrily over the soft skin spilling over the top. “Hmm, your bra looks really tight…are you sure?” You choked out another sound when he gropes your tits. “You want a massage? You’re always so tense, Y/N—“

You whine, pressing your hand over your mouth when he latches his lips on your nipple, taking the material of your blouse and even your bra inside his mouth. He can taste your perfume, the softener you use, but mostly you. His eyes are still on your scrunched up face, even while drooling over you. “Fuuuuck, look at you—“ When he bites down at your nipple a soft, shy moan leaves you.

“Han…” You breathe heavily, hands in your lap shaking from his mouth on your breast. He switches to your right nipple while his fingers twist and pull at the other. You are trembling already, shivering when he suddenly blows cold air on you. You look drown at him with your eyes droopy, glasses fogged up at the bottom and he definitely doesn’t look any better.

His plump lips are red and swollen, spit all over his mouth and when he leans away from you, you finally see what he has done to you. Your white blouse is soaked through, pink bra showing under the now see through material and you still feel your nipples tingling when he pulls you closer to him. “Closer, come closer—“ His voice is whiny, stuck at the back of his throat. You watch him spread his legs out, caging your body and when he taps both of his thighs you are startled a little.

“On your lap?” You bite your lip, looking at him from beneath your glasses. Han is already nodding his head, pulling you closer to him, scrunching up the material of your shirt between his fingers. His cock is already straining against his pants, twitching at the sight of you. Your skirt rides up when you shuffle your way to him and his hands are already on your waist, eagerly pushing you down on him. And when you did — oh, he almost fucking cums right when your pretty, clothed pussy falls on his cock. “Yeah, that’s it —move a little–“

He is already putting pressure on your hips and you can’t even breathe at that moment. You can feel him under you and it sparks up something in you that you have never felt before. You are embarrassed that you can already feel your underwear sticking to your slick, hands shaking on his wide shoulders. From this angle you see him in new light and he is glowing. His eyes are comically wide, tongue poking out his mouth when he just barely grazes his crotch over yours. “Han, I’ve never..” You whimper at the end, too weak to stop him from moving against you.

His hands are gripping your hips rather painfully, he is aware, but when his cock grazes over your pussy, he blacks out. “It’s okay, let me show you, yeah? Want you to feel good, you want that right? You deserve it so much—“ His mouth is full of you, kissing down your neck. He licks a long stripe over your pulse, wrapping his lips around the pumping vein just to suck at it. Fuck, he is really getting under your skin…

Your hand falls to the back of his neck, crying at how hard he sucks your skin in his mouth, making you burry your nails into his skin and he literally growls. He doesn’t stop at that though, his lips move way lower, right to the skin peaking out of your bra. His saliva drips down your neck to that spot and he sure sees it as a sight to mark it up. You are already calling out his name and he is kind of disappointed in himself that he told his roommate to go, because you definitely deserved to be heard. Your moans, whimpers, choked sighs — no, those are his, his only. He is thriving with the fact that he is the one making you feel like this and he is hoping that he will be the only one.

He needs more of you, he thinks, while nibbling at the soft skin of your breasts. Han pulls away from the spot with a pop! and to his delight you are already looking at him with those glossy eyes of yours. “Someone will see that!” Your voice is still so soft, even if you at trying your hardest to sound angered.

Han glances back to the spot, where a purple hickey is forming and he has to go over it with his fingers. “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either.” Your lips fall into thin line, silent moan coming out of you when he squeezes your tits. Your body looks absolutely sinful in his hands — glasses on your nose almost falling off, neck covered with love bites, white blouse hanging off your shoulders, exposing your pretty tits covered in that pink bra and your legs? You keep squeezing them around him to relief yourself and that makes him grab a hand full of your ass to push your cunt against his cock. “Come on, Y/N, make yourself cum…” Han is literally in heaven when your hips jump forward and when your face shows a shock by the sudden pleasure you start doing it more. “Like that yeahhhh-“

Your breathing is heavy, hands grasping his shoulders, holding for dear life. He wonders if you ever humped your pillow, because you are moving like you did — he has to buy you a pillow with his face on it. He leans back on his hand to get a better look at you. You are pouting, huffing, trying so desperately not to let out any sounds but, he is not having it. His hand pushes your skirt up, just so his hand can meet your cheek with a nasty slap.

The sound echoes in the room and you finally let out a moan, the stinging pain quickly melting into pleasure. “Fuck, I can feel your pussy soaking my cock–“ Han grits through his teeth, his own hips jumping to bump into yours. “You are so pretty — so fucking pretty…you like when I call you that?” Humming, he watches your face become beet red even if your skin is dark in the soft light of his room. He can feel your legs shaking, his hands traveling to your ass to abuse it between his fingers. It almost looks like Han is only using you for his own pleasure and he kind of is.

He is huffing, groaning, spit gathering in his mouth from the sight of you bouncing on him. His hands on your ass jiggle the fat and you whimper in small embarrassment that is only being swallowed by his mouth. Your mouth is basically just hanging open, letting him tongue fuck you, because you can’t simply keep up with his moves. You are already out of breath, hips jumping wildly in pleasure and you know you are on the edge as well as him when he slap your ass again to gain your attention.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on this cock — fuck, yeah. Make it messy, Y/N, because I want you to soak through my pants, so every time I wear them, I think of you humping your pussy on me—“ A sharp moan leaves you, feeling the rumbling in your lower tummy. You are having a hard time keeping up with your own pleasure, whining from the pain in your thighs, but he thankfully takes over. Han fucks into you rapidly, eyes drifting from your bouncing tits that are falling out of your bra back to your face of euphoria. “That’s it, such a good girl–“

With a loud moan you burry your face into his neck, cumming hard over him. Your legs are shaking from pain and pleasure, eyes blurry with tears. Han is smiling breathlessly like a crazy man, caressing your head, smoothing down your hair. He can feel your hot cunt leaking, cream from your orgasm staining the black material of his pants. His hold is soft, letting you ride out your high just because his minds keeps spinning in images and the image of him burring his face into your spend cunt is one of them.

You are thrown onto the bed and you can’t do much against it in your exhaustion. You sigh when he comes to hover over you, your eyes automatically going to his open shirt and you almost drool at the sight of his abs and tiny waist. “Fuck, baby you are amazing—“ You close your eyes, shying away from him a little and he laughs at that. “Always so shy…” You hum in agreement to his surprise and he at that goes back to suck more at your neck. His bites are mean and also his bold hands that grope everything in their way. His nose tickles your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin. Your hands finally rest upon him, just barely, but he can feel your fingers at the bottom of his shirt. When he looks down is eyes however don’t fall on your fingers, but at the spot right between your legs. Your thigh high socks are still by some miracle, digging into the skin of your inner thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, so he has a perfect view of your underwear and how he hoped, it fucking matched.

The lacy material is already ruined by your leaking pussy and when he if looks carefully enough he can see the outline of your folds. “Holy shit, look at that!” He leans back into his knees while you press your face into his pillow in embarrassment. How can you be so shy when you literally rode his cock just few minutes ago? He thinks, he’s in love…

The panties are deliciously digging into your hips, thighs just begging to be wrapped around his head and how could he resist that. Han shuffles down the bed rather quickly, mouthing at your thigh next and you are left trembling again. You are already exhausted, yet you think you want more — need more. You are curious about what else he can do to make you not feel like yourself anymore. The skin of your inner thighs is sensitive, you know that, because you sometimes like to pinch the skin between your fingers, just like he is doing it with his teeth. “Sensitive—“ You warn him, shuttering as he bites and licks at your thighs.

He looks up to you, not stopping however and then the tip of his tongue is hit with sweetness. His head is already so close to your pussy, but he has to lick up all of your juices from your skin firstly, just replacing it with his spit. “Let me eat your pussy, I need it…I swear, I will make you feel so good—“ You are already nodding your head, fisting the sheets, just as he hooks his finger in your underwear. “Let me blow your mind, baby.”

Han almost pulls out his phone to take a picture, because he has never seen a pussy so pretty. From your orgasm it’s a little swollen, red, clit just begging to be sucked into his mouth. He can smell your arousal from here, but he needs you closer — he needs to drown in you. His hands slide your body down and you yelp form how easily he did that, letting him push your legs up to your chest. You want to cry from his blown out pupils, tongue hanging from his mouth and then finally watching him press the slick muscle against you.

Your body jerks from the new feeling, a little puzzled by it, but you can’t really think straight, when he starts to fuck you with his mouth. Han’s eyes are rolled back into his head, while slurping you all up, sucking at your labia, your hole, just barely letting his tongue slide in and flicking your puffy clit. He can feel it pulsating in his mouth, smacking his lips at your taste — strawberries and cream. Han can’t get enough of how soft you feel, cock painfully pressing against his pants, however it only makes it feel better. The pain combined with the pleasure of eating your cunt is the most erotic thing he has ever felt.

“S-slow down!” A pathetic plea leaves you, but he doesn’t hear it. His nose is buried in you so deep that he has trouble breathing, face becoming red from the low intake of oxygen. He doesn’t need oxygen when he is breathing in something much more pleasurable. He can’t fight his hips from humping against his bed. The hands on the back of your thighs push them further to your chest, letting him press his mouth into your leaking hole. His tongue flattens, licking a long stripe from the rim of your ass to your clit. “Han!” So sweet and tight…

Your pussy sucks his tongue right in, even if you are shaking from overstimulation. He needs to feel you orgasm on his tongue, so he is on a mission to make you cum as fast as possible, just to taste more of you. “How do you taste so good? It’s the fucking strawberries, you always eat, I swear-“ You are literally crying, tears streaming down your face and his hips flew away from the bed, because he almost cums in his pants.

Your hand comes to push his head away simple because you can’t even think from hard he is pressing his tongue against you. Your pussy is on fire, liquid lava filling up your tummy and you literally scream when he starts to slurp meanly at you. The sound is so loud, hand shaking and just lying on his head. You can’t control your trembling body and when he starts to shake his head from side to side, you are crying out, pleading for him to just slow down a little, but he only starts to suck your whole pussy into his mouth. “Han! F-feels weird, ah!” You want to push his head away, but he is acting like possessed, nails digging into your skin and you know there are definitely going to be bruises.

Han can’t stop, not when he tastes the hot cream leaking from your hole, smearing all over his chin. He is shaking inside, because he knows, why you are warning him and that makes him go even harder. His tongue is numb, lips red, but when he goes to suck at your clit, he hears that moan again. Your eyes are wide open, back arching when he nibbles at your nub and this orgasm almost takes you out.

He sees your eyes rolling back into your head and then he feels you squirt all over him, coating his face and bed in your pleasure. His lips are parted, drinking you up and he wants to cry at your beautiful state. “So, good—“ Han is whining, hips jumping in the air, looking at your squirting pussy. Your holes spasm, your painfully swollen slit pulsating on his tongue and he is simply amazed by your body.

“Fuck…” You mumble, feeing your soaked thigh highs melting into you. Han is shocked by the word leaving for pretty lips, while he crawls his way up your exhausted body to kiss you sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips and you have to say you do taste rather sweet. Leaning back, you try to look at him, but your glasses are all the way down your neck, so he puts your glasses back on your nose for you and you immediately sigh in embarrassment at his wet face, shirt and even few strands of his hair. “I’m sorry—“

Han eyes widened at your sad eyes, shaking his head immediately. “No, baby.” He coos, caressing your cheek softly, like he just didn’t make you squirt just by his mouth. He is really a lot to take in. “You did so well for me—“ With each word he kisses a part of your face — your forehead, cheeks, nose, cupid’s bow, before his lips land again on your lips.

“I did?” You shiffle slightly and he feels filthy, because your face is making his cock swell painfully. He needs to cum or he will go mad. You can tell he that he is hurting in his pants, because you can feel his hard cock against your thigh and your eyes quickly fall down to catch a sight of it.

He breaths out in a small disbelief at your move, catching you in act. “Wanna make me feel good too?” Your big eyes gaze at him in wonder. “How about I teach you how to suck a cock?” You sharply gasp at the words coming from his plump lips and he knows that he won’t last long, just by your cuteness. You softly nod your head, just a small shy smile appearing on your face and Han then roughly pushes your cheeks together to maneuver you.

It hurts a little, but you let him guide you to the end of the bed, throwing one of his pillows down on the floor for you to kneel on. You are in a trance, while looking up at him, watching him move down the bed, so his crotch is right before your face. You are looking at his covered cock innocently, hands in your lap. You look heavenly in your post-orgasm state, kneeling before him like a slut…”Come on, baby — pull them down.” Han helps you guide your hands to his zipper, your fingers grazing over him in the process. The sound of the zipper is loud, it rings in your ears like your heartbeat as you watch him push down his pants with his boxers following right after.

Your gasp is delicious, mouth hanging open, eyes only on him. His cock is leaking, droplets of pearly cum coating his flushed, almost purple tip, his balls are swollen, ready to burst at any moment. Han is fully aware that this is your first time seeing someone like this and he really is enjoying himself, because of it. Your eyes keep going up and down, mesmerized by the length and thickness. You don’t know what is considered big, but you are sure Han never let anyone down with his pretty cock.

You watch him closely, when he wraps his hand around himself, squeezing at the base. Han is watching you too — how you bite your lip, how your glasses are slightly dirty from all the activities you two did and how you are keeping a good eye on how he jerks his cock off. “Gimme your hand—“ You are careful, slowly giving him hand. The moment your hand is replaced by his, you sigh in surprise and he groans in pleasure. “Move your hand up and down…yeah, just like that, you are doing so good for me—“ The feeling of him in your hand is weird, but not bad, he feels hard yet squishy and you have to squeeze him to see how it feels. “Fuck! Come closer.”

His hand becomes tangled in your hair and you hiss softly, when he pulls at it, pushing your head closer to him. “Should I lick it?” You asks, shyly, glancing up at him. “Just like you did to me?”

Han wonders where you have been his whole life for a second, before he quickly nods. “Yeah, lick it, baby — suck on the tip too.” Your hot tongue then meets his painful tip and he hears you hum at his taste. Kitten licking it, he pushes your hair away from your face to look at you better.

Your eyes are closed, frown that he knows is from concentration plastered on your face. Your hand is still around him, not moving, maybe because it was too much for your little head to handle, but he still wraps his own hand around yours to move it up his cock. Your eyes shoot open, hand moving now on your own and when you start to kiss at his cock head, he moans in delight. “Squeeze your hand a little…good girl, now suck on my cock—“

Your lips wrap around him, tongue poking at his hole perfectly. You can see why he enjoys giving so much and you definitely want to thank him for that. He’s been so nice to you, making you feel so good. You suck a little harder, mouth already halfway full of him and you for a split second think you may have done it a little too hard, but you are quickly proven wrong.

Han whimpers, the beautiful sound, making you press your legs together. When he pushes your head down further you let him, even if your scalp is on fire from his grip. “Put your hand on my balls and keep your mouth still for me, okay?” You only hum around him, making him whine more. Like he said, your hand unwraps from his cock to travel down his balls, keeping it there and waiting for the next instructions. “Play with them, do what you want with them, while I fuck your mouth.”

You moan around him again, spit pooling out of mouth and down the hand that squeezes his heavy balls. You almost pull away from him when he starts to snap his hips up. You immediately gag around him, breathing through your nose heavily. Han is leaking into your mouth, watching carefully how your throat contracts around him. From having you hump his cock to making you squirt on his tongue and now having your mouth on him, he can’t fight his quickly approaching orgasm.

When your nose and glasses hit the hair on his pubic bone, it makes you gargle a little and he finally knows where he wants his cum. Those fucking glasses — they complement you so well and you look like wet dream right now, his dirty fantasy come true, he wonders what would you do if anyone would catch you like this. The nerdy, shy girl taking a cock down her throat like total slut and being so obedient for the school’s notorious badboy. “Ha! Ahhh, fuck, I’m cumming—“ You suck in air, face red as he suddenly pushes you off him. You look at him, hand still playing with his balls that you feel twitching in your grasp. The cute, confused face makes him groan loudly, his own hand wrapping around his cock. The hand in your hair tightens, pushing your head down to make you kneel down at his feet again. Your eyes caught the sight of him jerking himself off quickly, cock right in your face and you gasp when he cums over you.

Thick ropes of white land on your glasses, making you close your eyes in reflex. Han is moaning loudly, pumping himself dry and he thinks he could cum again just by the sight of your pretty face covered in his cum. “Y/N…” It lands on your glasses, your eyebrow and lips and when you on instinct go lick it off, he knows that it is over for him.

Han Jisung is completely speechless. Your face is covered in him, lips red, body teared apart and covered in his marks. Purples, reds from his selfish lips and hungry hands. Mind empty, only pleasure lingering. He caresses your face softly in a absolute devotion, mirroring your smile of happiness, mixed with exhaustion. He looks down at you, like you are the thing he has been searching for and all that’s left to say is that...you are going to be forever his.

[kitysugar]

SIZE ~ (true form) sukuna x reader ౨ৎ .⋆。⊹ 18+

thinking about kuna with a size kink....... is not good for my mental health omg. sukuna has been stalking you for what seem like years. Watching you when you walk to class, going out with your friends, heading to work,,, and who you fuck yourself late at night. You've always had a feeling as if you were being watched for the last couple years. An unknown darkness that follows you around. It should have scared you away,,,, but you couldn't help but give into your sinful desires... especially on the night that this darkness comes to pay you a little visit.

word count: 7600 sukuna x reader smut. size kink,,, obviously. dumbification, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, heavy smut, corruption kink, stalking, voyeurism, breeding, monster fucking, heavy CNC. Double penetration. Perv! Monster! Stalker! Sukuna x Innocent! reader (I have a problem). True form sukuna smut (yes, we get a double dicker sandwich).

Sukuna always knew that he had a size kink, he just never acknowledged the fact until he met you. You were so small compared to him, it was like you were just a measly doll, a puppet. So pretty, so small, and so, so very innocent. He almost felt guilty for the things he fantasizes about doing to you. almost.

He additionally almost felt a little guilty for how many times he'd watched you masturbate through your window late into the night. The sounds you make while touching your pretty pussy were the only thing that calmed him after a long and stressful evening. He had been doing this for a while. Watching you, that is. He liked watching you get dressed for the day, guessing what makeup style you were planning on doing, the little pop you did with your lips right after you applied your lip gloss. It should be disgusting how many times he's rubbed one out to the sight of you popping those pretty pink, full glossy lips. but he didn't care nor did he feel a tinge of disgust towards himself.

He enjoyed all the times he's watched you walk to and from your little cafe job down the street. How your routine consisted of grabbing a coffee at a different spot despite being able to make yourself a free one at your place of work. How you would play with and feed your cats before heading out for the day.

He also enjoyed the days where you went out with your friends to the mall to shop, or to a restaurant for girls night. He especially liked it when you and your girls went out for dinner. All the cute and godawful tiny dresses you found yourself wearing always just about make him lose his cool. The only thing he hated about girls night out was the fact that you knew you were sexy, meaning men swarmed around you like vultures, eyeing you like a piece of meat. It made him want to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you right in front of everyone.

Sukuna owned you, he just hasn't put the collar on you yet.

Tonight was one of those nights where you went out with your girlfriends. Your hair was done up all pretty and your makeup took you hours to perfect, but it was all worth it for the evil, thigh clasping presence you felt in the dark corner of the club you were in. Your glossy lips were a tint of pink and your cheeks matched the deep red of the short dress you were wearing. The familiar dark energy seemed to be radiating all around you, more than normal.

He knew you couldn't see him, but sukuna stood at that corner of the room, hidden away from all the humans, his eyes locked onto one. Sweat glistened on the top of your breasts, and your lips seemed more plump than normal. But the thing that was driving him crazy was the fact that one man couldn't seem to leave you alone. he kept coming up to you in desprate search of starting a conversation, shamelessly eyeballing your prominent curves and licking his lips. sukuna wanted to explode his head right then and there for trying to seduce his woman. And what pissed him off even more was the fact that you were actually playing into it.

You kept making small touches to the mans arm whenever he said something "funny" and you bit your lip whenever he complimented you. But sukuna knew that your laugh wasn't genuine and your smile was a fake. He knew the real you. Of course he did. He'd been stalking you for months, if not years. he made his claim a while ago, and he wasn't gonna let some scrawny low life steal his property with a couple sad jokes.

Your smile faltered just a hair when you felt the dark presence leave the club. It was almost like a warm blanket had been ripped off of you. Your eyes seemed to glaze over, which led the random man to ask if you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just feel sick for some reason" your response was an obvious lie, but apparently good enough for the man to believe.

"oh, are you alright, would you like a ride back to yours?" He asks, and to be completely honest, kinda made you cringe. Of course you didn't want a ride because the only reason you were talking to him was to make whatever was watching you jealous.

Sukuna found interest in you because of your innocence. But oh was he in for a surprise. You knew something had been following you, you knew it had been watching you whenever you touched yourself late at night. You've felt it since the very beginning.

its like you had your own curse.

You should have told somebody when the red flags started popping up out of nowhere; they started out small, ranging from your couch pillows being moved around, then progressed into things like your favorite pair of panties going missing, then to things that freaked you out, like waking up to your bedroom window being open in the morning even though you know for a fact that you had closed and locked it. You should have moved apartments. You should have done something when this started happening.

But you didn't. And it made you sick. Getting off on the fact that you knew you were being stalked by whatever was hunting you.

And the fact that you were upset that the mysterious darkness had left proves just how disgusting you actually are.

"guys, I think im gonna call a cab, I just got hit with a wave of sickness and I really just wanna go home and sleep" you told your friends after shooing off the man you had no interest in.

"omg girl are you okay? of course go home and rest im so sorry!" one of your friends said right after taking her 4th shot.

"yeah im fine, just not really feeling it"

"text me when you get home!"

Staring at the dark yet lively city lights flashing by you, you kept thinking about the little stalker you seem to have. You thought it was weird how turned on you got just from an energy, from a presence. You've never felt so.. needed. so, praised ?

No man, or woman. Has ever given you so much confidence, if that's the right word. And because of that, you've never felt another human beings intimate touch. You only want its touch. Whatever it is.

Sukuna knows what he does to you. He could basically see it radiating off of you. How much confidence you gained and how well you hold yourself. And he'd never been happier to be the one gifting you that grace. That's actually the main thing that peaked his interest about you. The way you held yourself throughout life. Nothing could stop you from getting what you want, and he admired that. It made him question himself at first, being so interested about a human being. It made him debate on keeping you alive. How dare a human make him question himself.

But that passed quickly the first time he'd seen your fingers fuck your pussy. it was delicious. he had to restrain himself from shattering your balcony door and fucking you stupid.

You felt it leaking through the cracks of your front door. It felt different than all the other times its followed you around and watched you throughout your life. It was stronger, and it turned you on so, so much more than normal.

You stood outside your apartment door debating on going inside. Your face was burning and your pussy was throbbing.

It felt like you were going absolutely insane, and it pissed you off not knowing what was making you into such a pathetic mess. With a deep breath, you opened your door only to be met with darkness aside from a few street lights illuminating your living room in a dull yellow.

You set your stuff on the couch before walking into your room, slinging your door open, you didn't even have to turn the light on to know that whatever it was, had decided to perch itself in your bed.

For the first time in years, you actually felt scared of whatever it was. Your whole demeanor changed in an instant, and it made sukuna chuckle.

That chuckle vibrated throughout your skull, straight down your core.

Wanting to fold in on yourself out of fear, but too turned on to do so; you walked in, closing the door behind you. Sukuna's eyes never leaving your much smaller frame.

Trying to hide the fact that almost your entire being is screaming at you to run away from the thing in front of you, you stand your ground.

"What are you?" You ask the figure you have yet to fully lay eyes on. All you're able to make out is a monster-like figure with four arms, two behind its head using them as a cushion against your headboard, and the other two resting on its thighs. Its legs are long and big, both of them spread apart, inviting you in, in the most almost taunting way imaginable. Its face is completely hidden in the dark, restricting you from seeing the cocky, shit eating grin plastered on its face.

"What a weird first question to ask, y/n."

Its voice sent chills down your spine, creating an even stronger pulse in your heart, and your clit. You involuntarily suck in a breath at the sound of its voice. Deep, husky and masculine. It's nothing like you've ever heard before, and it makes your skin crawl in excitement and fear.

He chuckles again at the gasp you let out. You stay in your spot, making sure to keep a safe distance away from him.

"Answer my question." The words left your throat as more of a command than anything else. Your eyes never leave his frame, even as he removes his arms behind his head and lean forward, crossing them across his chest. His eyes never leave your body either, drinking in the sight of your skimpy dress.

All he wants to do is burn it off of you and make you scream his name as you cream all over his cock, but that'll take a minute to happen, so he answers you instead.

"King of curses, my dear." His voice sending another wave of shivers coursing through your body. He stands, and your entire body starts screaming at you to run away. but despite that, you hold your ground, challenging the being in front of you.

He's at least over 7 feet tall, one set of arms still crossed over his chest, the other finds their way to rest on his hips.

"The name is Sukuna." You just about drop to your knees. not only is his voice is unbearable, but you've heard about him before. You never believed in ghosts, curses, spiritual beings, anything of the sort and you've never believed any of your friends or family members when they told you legends about the man standing before you, yet here you are. About to be torn apart by the king they've warned you about for so many years.

"Guess you've heard about me, hm?" You can't get your damn mouth to move or your throat to make any noise. Your eyes are as wide as planets and all you can do is take a shaky step back, mimicking his opposite step forward and towards you.

"Why- why are you here?" voice is shaking as you speak, your breathing is jagged, which is prominent in your stutter. Just as sukuna takes another step forward, his features are illuminated in the moonlight shining through your bedroom windows curtains. He's absolutely breathtaking, and not many people would say that.

I guess I really am fucked up huh

"oh y/n, don't play dumb now, doll." His grin never leaves his face and your eyes meet with his. He's scary in the best way possible, and it's making you want to wipe off that dumb grin by sitting on it.

"You're the one whose..." You take a moment to think, which is extremely hard when this monster starts stalking towards you ever so slowly, both sets of arms coming down to dangle by his sides. He tilts his head to the side and begins to hunch his back and bend over to get a closer look at you. The distance is closing in on the two of you, making you unintentionally walk backwards and into a wall.

The sudden feeling of the cold wall on your back makes you yelp in surprise, but you never look away. He hums at you, signaling you to finish your sentence.

"You're the one whose been watching me for so long.." You say under your breath. Chewing the skin on the bottom of your lip. Your hands clench into fists as he keeps getting closer and closer.

"don't act like you didn't enjoy my little haunting game, love. you do remember touching yourself just to the thought of me, right y/n?" His smug smile could be heard just by the tone of his voice. Your breathing deepens and he's stopped right in front of you, face to face with the thing that's been taking over your entire life for the past couple years. Your back would be disappearing into the wall if it weren't made out of sheetrock. He stands up fully and all you can do is stare straight ahead, looking directly in the center of his entire body. He's fucking huge. Letting out a shriveled breath, you close your eyes.

"Look at me, y/n."

You refuse to open your eyes, or even move in the slightest.

He gives you 15 seconds before one of his hands grips the base of your jaw and forces your face upwards to look at him, nails digging into the flesh of your rosy cheeks.

"I said, look at me." With a fearful yelp at the sudden contact, you force your eyes open and are met with the most sinful red eyes you could ever see in this lifetime.

"Good girl." He snickers at the petrified look that paints your face. Even though you look so scared, your eyes are clouded with so much lust. Sukuna can basically smell the arousal pooling in your panties and it's driving him up the wall. Without a word, he pins you in place, making no room for escape by pressing his one of his forearms against the wall above your head, another one finds its way trailing up your thigh.

You let out a desprate sigh at the contact of his fingers. He traces up the skin of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps to trail behind until he's met with the flimsy fabric of your underwear and it takes him less than a fraction of a second to feel just how soaked you really are.

"You're disgusting." His voice somehow got an octave deeper, but who are you to complain? You whine at his words, following a louder whine as he starts to trace the slit of your pussy through your underwear. Sukuna's hand locks your head in place as you look up into his eyes as he pushes your underwear to the side and pinches your clit, his fingernails creating a painfully pleasurable feeling.

With a loud yelp, your hips buck forward. With his final free arm, he uses his hand to push your hips back against the wall, keeping you in one place.

"Stay still." He commands. His hand on your hip is locking you in place, so you have no option than to obey. His finger traces patterns on your clit and moans dance off your tongue as a result. His fingers pick up the pace and are now harshly massaging at your center.

"a-ah, slow ple-" Without stopping his brutal pace, sukuna lets go of your face and just before it can fall forward, he grips a handful of your hair and yanks it backwards roughly. your eyes to lock with his once more. A scream at the sudden pain erupts from the back of your throat.

"Don't tell me what to do, i'll use you how I please." Sukuna pulls his fingers away from your clit only to land a harsh slap on the bundle of nerves, making you yelp loudly and your body jolt in surprise. He slaps it a couple more times before forcing two of his fingers into your wet pussy.

Sukuna's fingers slide in with ease thanks to his assult on your clit. He was standing at such a close proximity to your body that when your back archesoff the wall, your stomach and chest meet his front. Just as your body meets his, he decides to let go of your hair, making your head fall forward and onto his center. Your hands instinctually reach up and wrap around his body, using him as leverage to keep yourself from falling. Your nails dig into his back as his fingers work wonders deep inside of you, all you can do is bury your head into him to suppress your noises.

His fingers pump in and out of your pussy, curling and twisting at all the right angles, fingering your core as if he's trying to tear you apart from the inside out. Wet sounds come from just below you, but neither of you seem to hear them because they're drowned out by your loud moans and whimpers of pleasure. Sukuna's eyes never leave your body as you come undone.

His now free hand that was once in your hair decides to hook under your thigh, picking it up and letting it dangle, helping get a better angle to fuck you with his fingers. Because of this newfound angle, your back and head hit the wall behind you once more, but your arms don't leave his body.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl. So fuckin' small I could break you so, so easily." Your nails scratch at his back like there is no tomorrow and all you can do as a response is whimper.

"su- kuna" Your hiccuped plea of his name is enough to know you're about to cum all over his fingers, but he wont let that happen just yet.

"say it, y/n" Sukuna says, his voice solid. You look up, tears welled in your eyes as you look into his and your voice breaks.

"Please can I cum, please k-una please please please" Your cheeks are a deep shade of red and your mouth is slightly ajar and oh does sukuna wanna fill up your pretty mouth and ruin that pretty pink lipgloss that stain your full lips.

Without another word, his smirk deepens and his chuckle vibrates inside your skull. He takes his fingers out of you, your juices now running down your thighs and you're pretty sure your panties are completely ruined thanks to the demon above you. Your eyes widen while you plea him to continue with a hushed whimper.

"Hush, little one" is all he says before one set of arms is gripping your thighs and hauling you into the air. Your legs wrap around his torso on instinct and your throat lets out a surprised squeal at his actions. Your hands come up and one of them grips his shoulder, the other rests in his hair. You're now face to face with sukuna and his eyes look deeply into yours. one of his other free hand's is tangled in your hair within a fraction of a second and is pulling you in to kiss him with so much force, it almost gives you whiplash.

Your tongue tangles with his and you let out another squeal of surprise right into his mouth when your back hits the cushioning of your bed. Sukuna is now on top of you, his torso flat against your heat. The hand that was once tangled in your hair is now trailing its way to your neck. Sukuna breaks the kiss and you go to lean forward in protest, but his huge hand wrapped around your neck stops you. Another hand rests on the headboard above you, and the two that were holding you up now rest at the top of your dress.

With brute force and in the blink of an eye, your once beautiful red dress and strapless braw are now being ripped off of you, tiny flames ignite from the freshly ripped seam for a just a fraction of a second. You gasp at the sudden action and Sukuna's glowing red eyes never falter to look at the reaction on your face. He laughs once more at just how jumpy you are. the cold air hits your skin, causing your nipples to grow hard and goosebumps form on your smooth skin. Sukuna grabs the dress and bra out from under you and throw the articles of clothing across the room to be forgotten, all while looking right at you. Once the dress is out of sight, you look up at him, your eyes half lidded with lust that are basically begging him to use you.

Sukuna smiles at how innocent, yet already fucked out you look and decides to lean down toward your breasts, taking one of your nipples and fondiling it inside of his warm mouth. His tongue laps at you and your hands fly to his hair, pulling it out of pleasure. His two free hands now rest at your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, to which you happily obliged. His mouth moves from your nipple and starts to suck at the skin of your breasts. His mouth trails from your chest, down to your stomach and abdomen, leaving deep purple marks and bites that will most likely be staying for days, if not weeks. Your whimpers are like music to Sukuna's ears which only make him want to make you scream his name.

The hand that rested on the headboard is now grabbing your hands from his hair and forcing them down onto the mattress above you and the set of hands that were on your thighs are on your hips. Your eyes dont leave his, even as he rips your panties and throws them in the same direction he did your other clothes, making you bare yourself completely to him.

His hands part your thighs once more and pins them down, holding you in place.

"So cute, so tiny. 'could just ruin you hm?" he speaks as he lowers his head down to your heat, his breath fanning your dripping pussy. Your breathing is even more uneven than before as it's mixed with your hushed moans. Without taking his eyes off yours, he sticks out his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt, causing your jaw to slack open in the perfect "oh" shape as your whine rings inside sukuna's skull. He licks up your cunt a couple more times before it initially lands on your clit, then he buries his head into your thighs and nips at you like a dog in heat.

His mouth sucks, bites and laps at your clit, and you try with all your strength to buck your hips up, but to no avail, the hands on your thighs pin you in place as your arms are basically unuseful. All you can do is throw your head back in pleasure as this creature devoures you. His grip on your throat tightens a little more and suddenly it's more difficult to breathe, but you dont even care.

Sukuna's saliva mixes in with your fluids that run down your thighs and asscheeks, wetting the bed under you. His long tongue fucks itself inside your pussy and against your walls as his teeth drag across your clit. Sukuna doesn't look away from you, not for a second. He wants to see every twist on your face and flex of your abs as he eats you out, he's desperately and intensively observing you, as if you were the most beautiful, treasurable piece of art he's ever layed eyes on. His tongue is rough as he creates a rhythm of fucking your insides, and sucking your bundle of nerves.

Your arms tug at the restraint of his hands holding your wrists. He's so much stronger than you, yet that fact alone turns you on so much more. Your moans and hushed screams fill the room as small beads of sweat gather on your hairline. Your body twitches under sukuna's control and your clit is throbbing for release as he toys with you.

You're so close to finishing and sukuna can tell so easily. Your moans grow into louder screams and your back arches off the bed. His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off all supply of air and your eyes are thrown open as you choke and cough, trying to get any oxygen possible.

Sukuna laughs into your pussy, which vibrates through your whole body. Your eyes look down into his, desperately trying to tell him to let you cum, or breathe. Whichever one he will let you do. Your silent plea only turns him on even more and your vision is starting to blacken and your head begins to feel light.

"Fuck, you're so adorable when you're beggin' for your life" He says as he sits up and hovers over you, refusing to let you finish. The hand on your throat disappears and you cough and gasp for air, but just as you suck in a deep breath, its knocked out of you by a harsh slap to your face and all you can do is gasp in pain at the sudden stinging on your cheek. He grips your face directly after with the hand he had previously slapped you with and forces you to look down at your pussy.

One of the hands on your thighs moves up to your cunt and plunges inside you. Two of Sukuna's fingers thrust inside your cunt at lightning speed and curl up into your center, hitting that spot you need him most. You choke out a scream and your hips grind into his palm.

"Look at the mess you're making y/n. Such a nasty little girl you are." He says as he looks at your pretty face contorting from the overstimulation he brings upon you.

Sukuna's fingers are relentless as they move fast inside of you. Not even a couple seconds later, you're cumming all over his hand and arm, squirting your fluids all over him as well as your bed sheets. You come undone with a scream.

"K-kuna oh my god!" You're being so loud, you could almost bet the neighbors across the street could hear. Neither of you cared though, all you cared about was how you were about to be torn in half.

Your eyes are watery again and you're still desperately trying to gather air in your lungs. Sukuna's hands let go of your wrists and face, but right after, you hear an article of clothing rip. You sit up slightly in wonder, but your mouth instantly hangs open at the sight of two handsomely large cocks sprung up, hitting just above Sukuna's belly button. Your mouth instantly dried at the sight.

Speaking of sights, Sukuna thought you were a beautiful one. Your hair was a shriveled mess and your face was the most gorgeous shade of red. You looked so fucked out, yet so ready to take anything he gives you like the obedient whore you are. You had a look of fear and interest plastered on your face. Sukuna was never one for love or anything of the sort, but the moment he layed his eyes on you those couple years ago, he knew he was fucked. You were just so different than most of the humans he had ever made contact with. You didn't care about the difference between "good and bad" and you always took what you wanted without second thought, even if it took you a while to grasp. You were always ready for whatever was thrown at you and were always in control of everything around you.

That's why he decided to stick around. Since the beginning, he's wanted to corrupt your world and fuck up your flow of control. He was arrogant and cocky. You just needed someone, or something, to step in and take control over you. And sukuna was never going to let anybody else besides him take control over his woman.

Though he would never admit it out loud, you were breathtaking. You're also the only reason he hasn't burned this world to the ground,,,, completely.

"Think you can take em'?" Sukuna's voice never fails to make a shiver run up your spine. You don't answer him, all you do is stare into his eyes, a silent plea to just have him use you however he pleases. He takes your lack of an answer and laughs quietly under his breath. He brings one of his hands to his face, and smiles into his palm.

"you're gonna be the death of me."

His body slowly stalks towards you, crawling onto the bed, trapping your body between his and the headboard. Your thighs rub together in desprate search of friction. You can't take it any longer, you need him inside you. You need every part of this being in any way you can have him.

"I don't care if you think you can take my cocks' or not, I'll force you to take em' how bout that, yeah?" His head tilts as he speaks and one of his hands grips your leg and pulls your body down farther onto the bed, causing you to lay down underneath his much larger body.

"You're so- so big kuna.." Your voice is uncontrolled and small. Unlike earlier where your screams and moans were ear piercing and just so delicious. Your eyes look up into his, your hands sneak up to wrap around one set of his arms, squeezing his biceps as you chew on the skin of the inside of your cheek.

Sukuna groans at your words. He really was huge, trapping your body underneath his. One of his hands grips the headboard, another comes down to grip the side of your face. His thumb traces your bottom lip, smearing your lipgloss.

Just as you open your mouth, his thumb presses down on your tongue as you suck in his finger. One of your hands makes its way down his body, gripping one of his huge cocks in your small hand. Despite the size difference, Sukuna still hisses in response. You pump his hard dick a couple times, looking directly into his eyes as you suck on his thumb. With painful force, sukuna grips your wrists and suddenly, both your hands above your head once more.

With one hand gripping the headboard, one holding your wrists in place, another moves from your mouth to grip one of his dicks while the final hand holds himself up, hovering right above you. You whine at the lack of control you have, grinding your hips upwards as a sign to let you go, but all sukuna does is laugh at your attempts of escape.

"Stop moving, slut." He pushes one of his dicks at your pussys entrance, but you don't listen to him, you grind your hips upwards once more and Sukuna doesn't seem to like that very much.

"Told you to stop movin' brat" and without warning, or any lube (as if you needed any) he pushes one of his cocks into your pussy with full force. It has you automatically screaming at the stretch. It's painful and you're pretty sure you're bleeding.

Sukuna bottoms out inside of you and stills, the outline of his dick prominant through your stomach, it drives him insane.

Sukuna uses his now free hand and pushes down on the outline of his cock through your tummy and chuckles.

"Fuck you're so small y/n, look at your tummy baby" You obey him and look down, seeing the outline of his huge dick bulging in your abdomen. A scared moan leaves your lips as you take in the sight. It literally looks like he could split you in half at any given moment. Sukuna pulls his dick out, a painful sensation radiates through your vagina as he does. The bulge in your tummy disappears and sukuna's face falters into one of disappointment.

"fuck, you're bleedin' y/n! " sukuna says to you, and just as you're about to look for yourself, he thrusts his dick back inside you, filling you back up again. He bottoms out inside you and a strangled moan that sounds more like a cough forces its way out of your throat.

"full- im so full, too full please-" Sukuna's face turns into one of disappointment again at your words as he says

"that's too bad, I wasn't even close to being finished with stuffin' you doll." He mocks you, and just as he finishes talking, you feel his second cock at the entrance of your ass, which causes you to shoot your head up.

"No, no please dont" you beg him, despite your words not being how you really feel, you beg him not to anyways. sukuna's face is still one that mocks you, pretending as if he feels bad for splitting you open. He pushes his tip into your ass so slowly it almost makes this situation better. The stretch is unbearable, especially with how tight you are with another cock spreading you open and filling you already.

Sukuna's entire tip is stuffed inside, waiting for you to adjust to his length.

"Look at you, taking me so well. Such a good little girl aren't you?" His voice is taunting you. Your arms feel weak from how much you've been struggling to break free, so all you can do I lay there and adjust to his cocks with hushed moans.

Sukuna starts moving his cock deeper inside you slowly, but not slow enough.

"Kuna please no, it's too much I can't take it" Your head shakes from side to side as painful tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. Sukuna pouts at this and leans down and uses his tongue to lick the tears away.

"you can take it, you're already doing such a good job for me." This reassurance helps you a little more, and with every inch growing deeper inside you, you find it hard to breathe, and sukuna notices.

He leans down and whispers deeply into your ear

"breathe my dear."

you listen to him and take deep breaths. In one particular deep breath, sukuna takes it upon himself to completely push the other half of his cock into you, getting it done in one swift motion just as you breathe out.

His actions cause you to scream in pain,,, and in pleasure. More tears fall from your eyes. Sukuna doesn't even give you time to adjust this go around, he just can't wait any longer.

"fuck, takin' my cocks' so well, you're so fuckin' tight, couldn't help myself" Sukuna says into your ear.

Your ass feels so tight as he thrusts in and out of both your stretched holes. the pain subsides into pleasure after a couple strokes and your painful hisses turn into sickening moans.

The sound of skin slapping echos off the walls of your dark room, the only light source being the moonlight shining through your window. Your pussy feels like it's going to burst every time sukuna's dicks thrust back inside you.

Sukuna's grip on your bed frame is so tight, the wood crumbles in his hand

"fuck" He curses under his breath

He needs to grip onto something, anything, so he decided to harshly grip the sheets that lay right next to your head. He looks from your face, down to your pussy where he sees his cocks move in and out of you, stretching you so beautifully.

When he looks back up at you, your teary, half lidded eyes lock onto his. You dont break eye contact, even as you moan out his name like a chant that dances off your tongue straight into his ears. And he loves it.

Your walls squeeze his dick's like you're trying to milk him dry. He's even surprised both of them fit inside you.... as if he didn't literally force them to fit.

"Please please let me touch you, just wan' touch please kuna' please" you moan out, begging him to let go of your arms. Much to his objection, he lets you go.

Your arms instantly wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as you pull your bodies closer together. Your boobs press up against his broad chest as your sweat rubs into his skin.

Two of his arms hold his body up on his forearms above your head now, the other is pinning your stomach to the bed, the feeling of his dick entering and exiting your pussy being felt through your tummy.

his last free hand finds its way to the small of your back, his arm wrapping around your body and pressing you somehow closer against his. Your face is directly into his chest as you moan and scream out his name as his thrusts become wicked and fast, his hips snapping against yours. Your legs spread out for him to take advantage of you.

Sukuna looks down at you buried into his chest, his body hot and sweaty. Your nails scratching daggers into his back, you're pretty sure you can feel blood under your fingernails.

With each thrust inside you, your moans are choked and jagged and it's hard to breathe. The coil in your tummy is about to burst and you feel like you could explode from just how full you really were. Everything was too much, yet so perfect. Sukuna felt as if he was going to burst too, everything was so hot and wet, it was only driving him even more insane.

Your screams grew louder with each stroke of his cocks, signaling to sukuna that you were close.

"want me to come inside you? full you up and breed you like a dumb fuckin whore, turn you into a mommy?" He asks you, and all you can do is shake your head.

"you're gonna take my cum weather you want to or not, understand? Fill you up so nice nd' warm" He bares his teeth as you scream his name..

"no, no please dont I can't handle it, too full please k-una!" He doesn't like this answer, and it causes him to groan through his teeth. With a set of his arms, he grips your waist harshly, and with the other, he's stabilizing himself on the bed above you and sits up slightly.

"I dont care what you want, you're gonna take whatever I give you." he says before pulling his cocks out and flipping you onto your tummy. Your yelp of surprise is cut short as your hands grip at the sheets above you, trying to pull your body up and away from the monster.

"ah ah ah, dont run away from me, im nowhere close to being done with you." Sukuna stands up at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. He grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge where he stands. He lets go of your ankles and roughly grips your hips, pulling you up and slightly into the air. He forces your knees down into the mattress, your ass up and your face in your sheets. His hands remain on your hips as another one of his hands finds a handful of your hair, gripping and pulling your head upwards and next to his chest, forcing you into a painful arch.

Sukuna bends over so his face is next to your ear. His long tongue licks your neck, and up to the lobe of your ear just before he bites it, your moan in exchange.

"now shut up and let me ruin you" is all he says before forcing your face down into your sheets, one of his hands pressing your head down into the mattress.

Sukuna thrusts his cocks into your holes once more, resulting in a muffled scream coming out of your mouth, but he doesn't move. his hips flush against your ass. Sukuna lifts one hand from your hips and lands a harsh smack on your ass, leaving your skin red. Your walls tighten around his cocks.

so he does it again

and again

and again

over and over and over until you're creaming all over his cock and squirting all over your bed once more with more muffled screams.

"pathetic. squirting all over my cock with just a few slaps to your ass. how disgusting could you possibly get?" He mocks you again, landing one more painful slap to your ass as your liquids drip down your thighs and onto the mattress below you. He grabs the flesh of your ass with both of his hands and slowly pulls his dicks out of you, the empty felling in your tummy has you begging for him to fill you back up.

sukuna's face twists into one of interest as he hears your whines of protest.

"oh? what a little slut I have on my hands. and here I thought you truly didn't want me to tear you apart" he says as he thrusts his cocks deep back inside you, hitting your sweet spot that has you squealing ever so loudly. Your hands above your head painfully grip the sheets, your nails digging into your palms drawing blood. His thrusts are endless and with each one, he grows deeper inside of you. He uses one of his hands and rakes his nails down your back, scratching at your skin. It was a painfully blissful feeling that had your walls squeezing his cocks so tight, it causes sukuna to curse under his breath.

With a chuckle, he says

"you're so fukin' tight, im gonna fill you up so full, so swollen with my baby, you'll forever be marked as mine, you'd like that huh?" of course sukuna was lying, he would never ever want to reproduce, but the way you're milking his cocks is making him reconsider his entire opinion on that subject.

His thrusts grow faster and stronger, your pussy and ass flutter around his dicks so prettily, he can see it whenever he looks at your holes. You moan his name over and over again, like it's the only thing you know how to say.

The knot in your abdomen kept getting tighter and tighter every time he hit your sweet spot, you were so close to finishing and all you could do is yearn for sukuna to carry you to the finish line. So that's exactly what he did.

The hand holding your head down into the mattress disappeared, so you turned your head to the side, resting your cheek against the mattress, your eyes find his and oh fuck

oh good god

sukuna lost it

he threw his head back with a loud moan and tightened his grip on your hips so intensely he felt your skin break from under him, his nails digging into your flesh as blood ran down your legs, pooling on the sheets, staining his fingertips.

You had a puddle of drool where your face lays. your lips were bleeding from biting down on them so roughly, and your eyes. oh fuck your eyes were so perfect. it was as if sukuna could read a whole book just by looking into your eyes.

Just as he was about to finish, you came all over him once more, wetting the bed, soaking it really. Your walls fluttered all around him like the butterflies in your stomach. as you came, sukuna shot warm ropes of cum straight into your ass and tummy, so full it was leaking out of both your holes. but it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough for sukuna.

In the middle of both your orgasms, he resumed his thrusts, but your body gave out and you collapsed on the mattress, your stomach hitting the wet bedding.

your body couldn't move, you became putty in his hands and you had no complaints.

sukuna cursed as he crawled over you, his dicks never leaving your walls. one of his arms snaked its way under your arm to grip your throat, another one held your tummy, another spread your legs enough for him to continue fucking you, and the last one held him up.

His hips met your asscheeks in a monsteristic rhythm, a burning sensation beginning to form on your flesh. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your jaw layed slack open, drool running down your chin.

he was fucking his cum into you, making your soul intertwine with his in more ways than one. He fucked you through your next and final orgasm, your legs shook involuntarily as your guys' mixed cum got everywhere. it dripped down sukuna's cock, onto the mattress, between your thighs, onto his abdomen, all over your asscheeks, it was everywhere.

Your eyes closed, even as his thrusts continued, your mind faded away from your body and before you fully lost consciousness, you could hear sukuna's words ring through your ears.

"Ill see you soon, y/n."

[mingisprincxss]

Sticky notes-C.S

Pairing-Fratboy San x Reader

Tags/Genre- College au, enemies to lovers (technically one sided you'll understand when you read), smut, unprotected sex, (wrap it or else)angst kinda, squirting, MDNI 18+!!

Word count: 3k

Summary: You keep mysteriously getting love notes on your door to your campus dorm but who is it from? 

Your college days are usually the same routine, Get up, get coffee, go to classes, drop your stuff off at your dorm, hurry to work, get home and do homework till you pass out and repeat. Your life was quiet and peaceful, some may say it's boring. And by some it's usually the college hunk and frat boy Choi San. He always teased you about it. You never understood why the girls flocked to him and his dumb brainless friends however, he is one of the few people in the fraternity who is passing classes amongst drinking, and partying, which is the only thing you commend him for.

You despised him so much because in between classes when people are just hanging around campus on their downtime him and his friends are loud and obnoxious disrupting your studying or conversations with your friends. Recently though you caught his attention but he never made it obvious but he did let you know in subtle ways. Within the past month, whenever you drive back to your off campus apartment you're always met with a little flower sticky note with a compliment on it or something motivating for you. You always peeled it off your door, look at it, smile and stick it on your wall in your room. But who was it? As it continued on, you snapped a pic of them sending it to your friends asking for them to admit their love to you but they didn't know what you were talking about. 

One Wednesday evening you decided to have your friend Winnie come over for a sleepover after she begged you to stop overworking yourself with school work and work in general. You and her were on your way to your car when you guys got surrounded by San's group of friends whose cars were also parked by yours. "What kind of fucking car is this?" One of them said circling it trying to inspect it "looks like something that my grandma had." another teased as your hands clenched into fists trying not to lose your cool. "Don't let them bother you, they're still immature boys from high school who haven't grown up yet" Winnie whispered to you. "That car was actually a gift from my grandmother and I HAPPEN to like it." You said in a low tone your car was a cute custom wrapped pink mini cooper that your grandma got you as a graduation gift from high school before she moved out of state. It's not flashy with all the bells and whistles that most college people have, but you loved your grandma so much and she was proud of you for your accomplishments. 

As you unlock the car door to put both yours and Winnie's stuff inside you turn to the boys to make one more comment because you kept hearing them mutter bullshit to each other trying to get a rise out of you but before you could, a car pulled up and the tinted window rolled down to reveal San with  his red hair, sunglasses on dressed like he was going to yet another fraternity party "Are you guys coming or what?" He said practically scolding them he quickly glanced at you as the boys got in their cars and followed him out. 

Where did he just come from? And why in his car?  

As you and Winnie pulled up to your house with coffee and snacks for the night you saw another little bright orange flower shaped sticky note on your door. Winnie grabbed her stuff quickly and ran up your stairs to grab it and read it. 

"Your smile brightens up a room and warms my heart." "Awww someone really likes you" she said handing it to you as you scoffed rolling your eyes "or this could just be a cruel prank." You said unlocking your door and entering with your friend. As you guys settle and you put your things down in your room you quietly put the sticky note amongst the others on your wall sighing still wondering who this mysterious person is. 

"There's a party tonight, why don't we go?" Winnie asked disturbing you from your thoughts "Why would we when San and his braindead crew are gonna be there?" You said turning to her and crossing your arms "You also don't know if they'll try to spike your drinks honey." Winnies boyfriend Jongho said on video call "oh hey Jongho! Whatcha up to?" You said waving to him "Winnie called me to talk about the sticky notes again and wants me to help figure out who it is." He replied typing on his laptop the three of you were just having a casual conversation about nothing until you heard a door open and a familiar voice over the phone. "Forgot something." San said as you heard him walk through the house your stomach did a flip. You despised him because of the amount of female attention he gets and how full of himself he can be, but you can't deny how attractive he is but you would rather die than admit to that out loud. "What's he doing in your apartment?" You laughed as San leaned into fame "I live here? Is there an issue?" He said with a cocky smirk that you wanted to slap off his pretty face so bad. 

"No actually it's not a problem that you live there but your face is." You snapped causing Winnie to cover her moth to hide her laugh as Jongho pressed his lips together trying to do the same. San snatched the phone off Jongho's desk "That's not a very nice thing to say angel." He purred back at you causing you to make a fake gag noise earning a giggle from Winnie. Jongho snatched his phone back as San hummed and left. You and Winnie decided to go to Jongho's for a bit since you guys didn't have any set plans at your place. When you got there you were greeted by a cat meowing "Aw who is this?" You said squatting and petting the feline as it paraded around rubbing against your legs

"That's San's cat Byeol" Jongho said as you  rolled your eyes and Byeol decided to follow you to the couch and laid on your lap. The three of you decided to watch a movie together Jongho and Winnie were cuddled up on the couch together with a blanket while you were cuddling with Byeol nodding off as it got late. The door opened grabbing the cats attention as she hopped off the couch to greet San as you were fast asleep on the couch while Jongho and Winnie were fixated on the movie still. He hung his keys and shuffled over kinda still buzzed from the party as he stood behind the couch looking at what you guys were watching then looked down at you sleeping peacefully. "Don't even think about bothering her." Winnie warned earning a scoff from San "wasn't thinking about anything." He said reaching his hand out to pet the top of your head gently scratching at it causing you to stir in your sleep facing away from him earning a small soft smile from him as Jongho and Winnie glanced at each other confused as San disappeared for the night in his room with his cat. After his shower, he sat at his desk and pulled out a pen and orange flower shaped sticky notes from his desk drawer scribbling something on it before stretching and joining his cat for bed.

The next day you and Winnie decided to go out for breakfast and when you opened your door a little orange sticky note fell down from the door. "Wow like clockwork" Winnie laughed as you bent to pick it up and read it again "You are the prettiest girl on campus and I wish you'd be mine." You read blushing slightly Winnie tilted her head "there's something else on the back." She pointed as you flipped it over. "Meet me on Campus at 3pm today if you're curious as to who i am." You read again then looking at your friend. "Well why don't you! They've been doing this for almost two months now!" She said as you stood there to think checking the time on your phone "I guess it couldn't hurt." You said as you both went down stairs to your car. 

After breakfast you dropped Winnie back to her dorm as you went to go get ready to see who this person was or if this was a sick joke. After getting ready you quickly drove to campus and parked your car to sit by a tree hoping to solve this mystery. You waited for a bit when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you and when you stood up and turned around your smile dropped as you faced none other than San. "Hi" he smiled as your heart sank you immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was a sick immature prank that him and his stupid friends decided to do for whatever twisted reason. You tried to say something smart before he could say anything first but you were frozen with a lump in your throat tears stinging your eyes ready to pass out of embarrassment. "You okay?" He said concerned coming closer to you as you moved away slightly causing his brows to furrow in confusion. 

"So this was all just a joke...." was all you could say breath shaking as you tried to not flip out from this your chest was in knots as you mentally kicked yourself for falling for something stupid like this. San opened his mouth when you reacted on impulse and slapped him across the face. His eyes widened as he held his face in shock as you were trembling with adrenaline gritted teeth tears rolling down your face. "You're sick San." You whispered as he looked at you still in shock you turned around to go back to your car in shame when San grabbed your wrist pulling you back "LET ME GO!" You shouted trying to pull away still crying as Sans strength prevented that. "If you'd let me explain before you slapped me-" "What even is there to explain?! You wrote the sticky notes and left them on my door to humor yourself and your stupid fraternity friends!" You sobbed as he held both of your arms gently beside you. "Orrr... I wrote them because maybe it's how I feel about you y/n and I was a little nervous to tell you." He said calmly looking at you. 

"What?" You said as he nodded 

"How do I know you're not lying to me? What about all the girls that basically throw themselves on you? And you sleep with so many of them.." you said earning an offended look from him as he let go of your arms. "Just because I'm in a fraternity, doesn't mean I fit the stereotype of fucking every single girl that breaths next to me. My mom taught me to be better than that." He said annoyed you looked away in shame for acting out of emotion. San placed his hand under your chin to have you look back at him "I did mean everything I said on the sticky notes whether you believe me or not." He said wiping your cheeks you looked at him with glossy eyes as he kissed your forehead. "If you need time to think about this or how you feel I can give that to you" he said stepping away from you turning and walking away "San..." your voice broke he stopped and turned to look at you "I-I'm sorry for smacking you" you said embarrassed as he smirked "It's okay." He paused for a second and added "Well I would like to take you on a date if you want.." "if you truly meant what you've been writing to me for two months, then sure." You smiled "Of course I did, y/n!" He smiled back at you.

You both went to a small Korean hot pot place later that night and casually talked about how he was actually trying to leave his fraternity and do other things with his life as you just spoke about work and your hobbies. 

Afterwards you went back to his and Jongho's place which was dark and empty besides the chirping of Byeol trotting towards you both rubbing against your legs. 

"Jongho said he was going to Winnies tonight so I figured we can hang here for a bit." san said sheepishly as you picked up and kissed his cat. He quickly went to go change in his room then sat on the couch on his phone as you were still carrying Byeol around until you  saw that he was in a black compression shirt and matching sweatpants. You placed Byeol back on the floor as you went towards him catching him off guard as you straddled him as he quickly locked his phone placing it beside him on the couch. You ran your fingers through his red hair not taking your eyes off of him as he bit his lip a little nervously trying not to think about how hard he was getting under you sitting on him like this. You leaned in brushing your lips against him teasingly as you laughed a little seeing him get a bit flustered by your sudden boldness. You kissed him gently tugging at his bottom lip as you pulled away earning a desperate moan from him he quickly held underneath you and stood up carrying you to his room kissing you again as you both flopped on his bed. His room was very clean and smelt like vanilla which you weren't really expecting. 

He hovered over you kissing you lovingly then peppered kisses on your neck to your collarbone biting gently earning a moan from you as he hummed happily. "Please San" you begged causing him to raise an eyebrow at you "please what?" He asked acting clueless as he was running his hand all over you then going lower to your core.

"I want you to fuck me Sannie please" you whined as he chuckled evilly flipping up  your dress to your stomach as he pulled off your panties to reveal your slick in his dimly lit room. "You're so wet for me baby" he said gently rubbing your clit lazily with his thumb as you whined putting your legs together as he immediately pushed them apart. He then sticks one finger inside of you causing you to gasp then moan "mmmm you're so tight baby i don't know if you're gonna be able to take me." He purred sticking another finger in you then put his head between your legs tongue flicking your clit as your hands went to his hair pulling at it as he worked you up to an orgasm. Once you were coming down from your high he sat up removing his clothes as you did the same he flipped you over propping a pillow under you so that you were comfortable and he teased your entrance with his tip as you desperately tried to back into him whining "Easy girlie you're so desperate for this dick aren't you?" He said still teasing you pushing you forward a bit earning a desperate whine and nod out of you. He then slowly pushed himself into you. You cried in pleasure as he hissed as you clenched around him sucking his dick in further he exhaled shakily as he took a second to compose himself his hand rubbed your back then his hips started to snap into you as he gripped his hands on your hips cursing as the bed started to creak and the room filled with lewd noises of your moans and his and the sound of your wetness and skin slapping against each other. After a minute he flipped you over and plowed into you again "I want to see that pretty face all fucked out for me" he moaned as he picked up the pace bringing you close to your release and as you came eyes rolled back, trembling you also squirted on his abdomen earning a satisfied smirk from him as he continued overstimulating you but also making it hard for him to hold himself back since the sounds became even wetter. San was panting still ramming into you not wanting to stop but his hips were stuttering and his hair was sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed red and his face looked heavenly despite you wanting to cry from being overstimulated, but he looked so good. "F-Fuck I'm gonna-" was all he could get out before he groaned eyes shutting as he painted your insides with his warm cum as he collapsed on top of you still inside you as you both tried to steady your breathing. 

"You did really well love." He said as he finally pulled out of you to get a towel and water to clean you with and hydrate then kissed you after. Those words replayed as you sat up to drink the water then passed it to him. "So this really isn't a joke? You want me to be your girlfriend?" You asked still in disbelief even after having sex with him watching him drink the water and he nodded crawling over to you. "I've liked you for a while now and like I said, I'm willing to give up the boring life I have now to be with you." He said poking at the fact that his life was boring as he used to make fun of you for having a boring life. Lying down and pulling you close to him by your hips you hummed to yourself as he kissed your side happily. "If you really mean it, I'll be your girlfriend then." You said looking down at him to see him with his eyes closed asleep from what just happened but with a smile on his face like he knew you would agree to it as you smirked placing the water on his nightstand and cuddling up to him as you drifted off to sleep as well, having a slight skeptical feeling about it a too good to be true feeling. 

But to your surprise the next time you saw him on campus, he brought you with him to tell his fraternity that he was resigning. Although most were disappointed and gave their unwanted opinions even some of the sorority girls tried to convince him otherwise but he was set on this decision, grabbed your hand and walked away from his old life smiling with you as you both started a new one together.

[heirloomgem]

Infatuation Series

Summary: Small snippets and cute scenes on your crush on Sung Jinwoo and how Sung Jinwoo courts and wins over you in high school after using the cup of reincarnation.

His sole purpose in this life is to win your heart, become your faithful husband, and have you be the mother of his children. No one else but you. (Mini chapters)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: OOC, Romance, fluff, high school life (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Chapter 1: Chances

Lately, you have been too flustered for your own good but that’s because you’ve started liking someone.

In a classroom filled with students, the sound of pens scratching on paper echoed as students took notes while listening to their teacher.

Some people were diligent, some were dozing off and some were distracted, and you were among them.

Twirling your pen in one hand and leaning on the other, you did your best to listen to the lesson.

However, the calm spring breeze coming through the window seemed to lull you, and your mind gradually began to drift away.

Slowly, your eyes were closing.

Just as you were about to nod off, you caught yourself and quickly straightened up. Opening the back of your notebook you opted to doodle so you won't fall asleep.

It begins with a flower, followed by a bear, a knight's helmet, dragon wings, a dagger and various other unusual and unrelated items until finally you unconsciously draw a chibi version of him.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

Sung Jinwoo.

A second-year student in your high school, whom you started liking recently.

He was your senior by a year as you were in your first year. He was one of the handsome, popular and competent students in your school that most girls fawn over and for boys to idolize.

Like most girls in your school, you were no different from them, who accidentally glanced at him and were instantly smitten.

Foolishly and stupidly smitten.

You didn't know why, but after catching a glimpse of his soft black hair reminiscent of the night, his slender yet beautiful grey eyes, framed by long eyelashes, and his lips, which had a slight reddish tint.

That day, a deep sense of familiarity surged within you. Those feelings captured you and he entangled you with his very being without hesitation.

Even to this day, just remember that moment and how your eyes met made your body heat up, your cheeks flush and a deep aching echo inside you.

Finishing your doodle, you took a moment to admire your drawing of him.

Even though it's just a silly drawing, you couldn't help but caress his small face. A sweet smile appeared on your lips before shaking your head, catching yourself.

Looking at the front, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that the teacher and your classmates didn't catch you making a silly face out of nowhere and were focused on the lesson instead.

You didn't want anyone, particularly your teacher, to catch you daydreaming especially when your mind wandered toward your silly little crush or else with just a slip everyone in your school would talk about it no doubt and soon he would hear about it.

Just imagining his uncomfortable expression made you shudder, scared and embarrassed.

There's no way you would be able to endure such humiliation if such a thing were ever to happen.

Slapping yourself awake, you flip your notes back and resume jotting down points.

Soon the bell rang, signalling for a break.

You gratefully took the time to stretch your stiff body, worn from sitting in class for almost half of the day. Hearing your bones crack, you let out a sigh of relief, you turn toward your friend before happily inviting her to go out and buy some snacks.

Walking down the hallways while talking to your friend, you furtively give a few glances at his classroom as you pass it. Hoping to catch a glance of him.

However, it seems that luck wasn't on your side, as you didn't even see a glimpse of his clothes. A sense of sadness envelops you, leaving you disheartened.

Unfortunately, you weren’t in the same class or year as him so there were only a few times when you could see him.

Although you envy the students that were in the same year as him, that didn’t dismay you from time to time to wander the hallways of his classroom to try to catch sight of him.

This was one of the few times you hoped to see him, but it seemed the gods were not in your favour today.

You haven't seen nor heard of him at all throughout the morning and now it's already past noon.

You were hoping to at least even just once, you would see him.

Glumly choosing some snacks, you paid right away and waited for your friend's turn before the both of you walked back to your classroom.

Your head hung low as you considered the rest of the day would be unmotivated and restless due to not seeing him.

You wonder why you weren't born in the same year as him. If you had been, you might have had the chance to be with him that year or, even better, have him as your classmate instead of your senior.

Probably because you were too busy weeping childishly, you didn't pay enough attention to where you were going, causing you to crash into someone.

Expecting the painful impact, you held your breath when suddenly, you felt a strong hand holding your waist and pulling you into a warm embrace, steadying your fall.

With your heart racing from fright and still dazed from the incident, it took you a moment to come to your senses before you looked up, ready to apologize.

But your eyes widened instead, your tongue stuck in your throat, and not a word came out.

You felt your face blush uncontrollably, and your whole body trembled. This time, you knew your heart was racing not from fright, but from the nervousness of your crush's sudden appearance.

Standing face to face with your crush, Sung Jinwoo, you could feel his breath as your faces were close to each other, his head bent down, looking at you.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He asked as he gave you a worried look while you, in turn, could only look at him with your mouth wide open.

Both of your friends, who saw the whole situation stood frozen.

For one, your friend knows who your crush is while the other was bewildered with the whole situation.

Lifting his eyes, Sung Jinwoo’s eyebrow furrowed, concerned in his beautiful grey eyes, then brought a hand to touch your forehead which was now red from the earlier collision with his back.

“Your forehead’s bruised. We should go to the infirmary.” He murmured as he caressed your forehead.

Feeling his gentle touch, you snap out of your bewilderment and start rambling nonsensically, your arms flailing, your voice squeaking, and your face all messed up.

You couldn't help but cry in your heart.

Of all times, your bad luck just has to kick you when you least expected it and now you're making a fool of yourself in front of him.

Worst of all you just showed him yourself gawking at him unreservedly.

Not taking it anymore and embarrassed from head to toe, you immediately took your friend’s hand, apologizing before dashing away from the awkward situation.

You’re sure not only your face but your whole body is red as a tomato. Your back sweating profusely.

You’ve always imagined countless scenarios in your head. If you ever got the chance to talk to him, you would act smoothly and gracefully, ensuring that not a hint of your crush would show.

But now! BUT NOW!

You cried in despair.

God! You wish you could burrow yourself in a hole.

You were just grateful that only the four of you were in the hallway; otherwise, not only would you be mortified by your embarrassment, but you were certain that his fans would be furious with you for getting too close to him. And for sure you would be dead meat by the end of the day.

You were so grateful that wasn't the case.

As you and your friend were still running toward your class, a shameless thought popped into your mind, causing your once-red face to turn even redder.

Even though it was but a moment, you shamelessly recalled how his body felt against you.

His body was hard and built.

If you bet with anyone that he absolutely has abs even though he's only a high schooler, you will surely win.

With your mind clouded by immoral thoughts, you didn't notice the classroom door was closed, resulting in you running into it.

A loud sound echoed down the hallway, causing your friend to yelp in concern at your unhinged state.

You muttered a whole storm of curses under your breath.

You're certain the gods intended for you to die in shame today, leaving no corpse behind.

Meanwhile...

As Jinwoo watched you run off, he chuckled, his ears turning red from your cute reaction. After all this time, he had finally reunited with you.

He is eagerly looking forward to the days when you two can finally be together again.

A/N: Ahh, the taste of high school crushes! It’s so fresh but SO cringe at the same time, I couldn’t help but look back at my past crushes. SO CRINGE AND YET SO BITTER AND SO GOOD! Lol!🤣

Anyway, Sorry for the late post. Life has been too busy though I hope you enjoyed this fanfic!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

[sobbingscripter]

⊹🪻♡ undressed. ♡🪻⊹

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Tags: [mlw][angst.][no comfort][just hurt][childhood sweethearts?][one that got away][and will never happen]

Inspired by: undressed by sombr

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You don't think you've experienced a heavier feeling than glancing down at the attendance list of your class, a surname towards the bottom of the list has your breath stuttering and spiking in your lungs.

And you swallow.

"Damian Wayne?" You question. "As in, Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes." Damian hums, pointed nose in the air, a prideful arrogance oozing from his proud stance, shoulders squared and his uniform ironed without a crease. Seams perfectly lined, a tie knot perfectly proportioned and that face.

It's so fucking transparent. Even with those vibrant, juniper eyes that watch you with a keen interest, long, dark lashes fluttering with each calculated blink.

"You know my father?" Damian's voice has the slightest accent. You can't exactly place it properly, but you don't have time to exactly contemplate it too hard before you're inhaling sharply.

"Everyone does." Your lips curl with practiced easiness, you push yourself up from your desk, sticking your manicured hand out in Damian's direction. "It's nice to meet you, Damian. You can take the seat near the window."

Damian's hands are a lot softer than Bruce's were at his age.

But then again, the only times you really got to touch Bruce's palms were when you were picking the gravel from them, the pads of your thumbs soothing over the irritated skin. A gentle stroke of your fingers as you'd apply the disinfectant, a soft and affectionate tsk as you'd hear that wince that slowly silenced after the years of familiarity.

The sharp sting he'd grown accustomed to, the way your hands would wipe away the blood from his nose.

You'd only gotten to know Bruce for a year or two, before he'd begun attending a monastery or a boarding school.

And now you're here.

Looking at a 10 year old that has that exact same face, watching you with sharper eyes. And it's painful.

A heavy pit in your belly forms, and the bile rises in your throat. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it's an acid that burns your oesophagus as you try to swallow it back down and you continue to hand out the worksheets. Paper cracking as you place them on the desks, before you clear your throat.

Muttering the quietest 'excuse me' before you manage to leave the classroom. Your heels clicking against the marble tiles of the hallway, your back resting against the cool walls before you allow yourself to let out a heavy, almost painful breath.

"Wow."

Your breaths are bated, your mind's fuzzy and all you can think of is the way pretty blue eyes would sparkle with something akin to affection. The way Bruce's cheeks would tint the prettiest pink whenever you'd wipe at his nose, the way he'd peer up at you through his lashes as you'd clean up the gashes on his forehead.

Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on the fabric of your sweater, the soft, knitted cotton doing nothing to calm the racing of your heart. The heat that gathers at the nape of your neck is uncomfortable and so is the newfound throbbing in your temples. Your mouth is too dry, your pits are sweaty and your eyes are stinging.

And there's an ugly feeling that blossoms in the pit of your belly, just beneath your navel, spiralling up like vines and constricting around your lungs, thorns and spikes alike piercing into your bronchi, your heart clenching and it all feels too much.

You're too cold, too hot. Your eyes are too dry and too wet. And your bottom lip quivers, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards and you glance towards that window that looks into your classroom.

And you see that unsuspecting yet stupidly alert little boy, emerald gaze lowered to his notebook, dark brows bunched in concentration and you swallow hard.

There's really a child with the face of a man you'd never forget.

And it's a feeling that stabs, the knife twisting in your gut because you know that even if you wanted to forget Bruce, you couldn't.

Not when his face is imprinted into your adolescent and teenage memories, and definitely not when his face graces every TV in the country. In every magazine, in every newspaper article, every BuzzFeed blurb. Every third Quora quiz is if you're Bruce Wayne's type.

And the boy in that classroom proves it all.

You're not.

Even when you had managed to delude yourself into believing that for a moment in your life, you were.

You weren't.

You couldn't be.

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"Pennyworth," Damian shifts against the leather of the car seat, his bag neatly beside him as he glances towards Alfred, catching his withered gaze in the rearview mirror, "how many dalliances has Father had?"

Alfred's lips curl. The corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Master Damian, it would be easier to count the dalliances Master Bruce hasn't had." Alfred's accent makes it sound as though he's not calling Bruce a manwhore.

And Damian sucks his teeth.

Before humming your name. "Does it sound familiar?"

Alfred's weathered fingers stop tapping on the steering wheel, his gaze shifting from the rearview mirror, and out the windscreen instead.

"That's a dalliance Master Bruce hasn't had." Alfred states.

"But perhaps, keep that name between us, Master Damian." Alfred advises.

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[linoxpudding]

No Escape- Kim Seungmin

summary: your life is turned upside down when a ruthless mafia leader falls for you— his obsession growing stronger each day, pulling you deeper into his dark, twisted world

pairing: mafia!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: slow burn angst, dark romance, yandere, mafia au

word count: 7809 words

warnings: kidnapping, obsession, possessiveness, forced confinement, emotional manipulation, mentions of violence, toxic dynamics, controlling behavior

a/n: okay, but seungmin in those chaumet event photos? like, he’s living rent-free in my brain at this point. the white suit is giving prince energy, but the black one though? MAJOR mafia boss vibes. help me, I'm down bad

PART TWO

Masterlist

~°~

It was a random Tuesday evening.

The sky had cracked open without warning, releasing a cold, relentless rain that soaked through your sweater in seconds. You didn’t have an umbrella, your tote bag was already damp, and your fingers trembled as you hugged your books against your chest.

You’d meant to head straight home after classes, but something about the storm made you duck into that little café across from the industrial district instead. It was warm inside—quiet, dimly lit, with rain tapping gently on the fogged windows. The kind of place that smelled like old wood and cinnamon.

You found a spot by the window and sank into it, grateful. Ordered a latte, pulled out the book you were currently reading, and let the storm settle around you.

Across the street, he noticed you the second you ran into view.

From the backseat of a matte black car, tinted windows rolled halfway down, Seungmin’s fingers paused around the rim of a crystal tumbler. Amber scotch swirled lazily inside, untouched. The man beside him—older, in a gray coat, mid-sentence about offshore accounts and numbers Seungmin didn’t care about—went ignored.

Because you had caught his eye. You were nothing like the world he usually lived in. No designer heels, no bloodstained alliances, no veiled threats behind fake smiles.

Just you.

Soaking wet, eyes squinted against the rain, half-laughing as you darted across the street, nearly slipping. Your hair clung to your face. Your bag bounced at your side. You looked annoyed, tired… human.

And you disappeared inside the café like a whisper.

Seungmin leaned forward slightly, ignoring the impatient look his associate gave him. The sharp sound of rain on the windshield, the glow of café lights through the haze—everything else dulled in comparison.

He didn’t even blink.

“Are you listening, Kim?”

The man’s voice broke through the quiet.

Seungmin didn’t respond at first. Just narrowed his eyes at the café door.

Then finally, he exhaled through his nose, cold and flat. “Repeat that.”

The man clicked his tongue but did.

Yet Seungmin’s mind was still elsewhere.

He hadn’t seen anyone like you in a long time—someone who didn’t look like they belonged to the world he owned. And something about the way you carried yourself, even in the most mundane way… it scratched at something deep in his chest.

He needed to see your face again. To know your name. To understand why he suddenly didn’t care about the deal he’d spent weeks arranging.

But when the meeting ended and the man finally left the car, Seungmin turned his head back toward the café but you were gone.

The corner booth was empty. Your drink half-finished. Chair still slightly askew. Gone. Just like that.

He blinked once. Then twice. Sat forward in his seat like it would bring you back into view. Nothing. His hand tightened around the glass of scotch until it cracked.

“Where the fuck did she go?” he hissed, tossing the glass to the floor as the door opened.

Han Jisung slid into the backseat, raising a brow at the shattered mess. Han was one of Seungmin’s most trusted men. His consigliere. The silver-tongued devil who could talk a rat into a cage. He charmed politicians, bribed judges, made enemies feel like friends before they bled out on concrete.

Han looked at the mess before speaking, “Did that dude say something stupid again or—”

“She’s gone.”

“Who?”

“The girl.”

Han frowned, turning his head toward the café. “There was a girl?”

“Corner booth. Reading. Wearing white.”

“I didn’t see anyone when I came out.”

“That’s the point,” Seungmin growled. “She was there. Then she wasn’t.”

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out into the drizzle. Crossed the street. Pushed into the café.

The bell over the café door jingled softly when he walked in. Heads turned. The few customers glanced up in mild curiosity—then quickly looked away when they saw his face.

Because he wasn’t just anyone.

He was Kim Seungmin. The name you only whispered when you were absolutely sure no one else could hear. The name associated with disappearing debts, bodies found floating in rivers, and entire criminal families reduced to ashes.

He didn’t run a mafia. He was the mafia.

Ruthless. Calculated. Obsessively private. His power was the kind that didn’t require guns drawn in public—people made space the second they recognized him. Because if Kim Seungmin had to show up in person… it meant you were already too late.

And tonight, he didn’t care about stares.

He walked straight to the counter, dark suit still perfectly pressed, eyes razor-sharp under the soft lights. The scent of rain still clung to his coat, a few stray droplets falling from his sleeves as he placed both hands on the polished wood.

The boy behind the counter blinked twice before his hands nervously reached for the register. “W-What can I get for you, sir?”

“Girl. Corner booth. Just now.”

The barista blinked. “Oh, uh, yeah. She was here. Didn’t order much. Latte, I think. Stayed maybe an hour?”

“Her name?”

“She didn’t give one.”

“Card?”

“Paid cash.”

“CCTV?”

His face paled. “Camera system’s been broken for months, sir. Sorry.”

Seungmin stared at him for a beat too long. Then turned sharply, storming out, Han hot on his heels.

“Boss—”

“Every angle of this street,” Seungmin barked, already pulling out his phone. “Find her. I don’t care if you have to tear this district apart.”

And that was the moment it began. Not a crush. Not curiosity. Obsession.

The café became a checkpoint. He sent someone to ask for the receipts that night. Pulled surveillance from nearby businesses. Tapped traffic cams.

Just to see your face again. Just to find you. Because he wasn’t used to wanting something he couldn’t immediately take. And that made you dangerous.

But even more than that it made you his. You just didn’t know it yet.

*********************

The next few days blurred.

Han returned hours later, drenched and irritated. “No CCTV. The one across the bakery’s busted. The pole cam on the street’s been non-functional for three weeks.”

Seungmin didn’t respond.

He stood by the window of his penthouse suite, city lights sprawling beneath his feet. Hands in his pockets. Jaw tight.

“She’s untraceable,” Han said. “Like a ghost. I mean, you sure this wasn’t just—”

“She’s real,” His voice was low, threatening. “And I’m going to find her.”

It should’ve been easy to find a girl in a small city. You should’ve been traceable in hours, maybe days—at most a week.

But you weren’t. You disappeared like a whisper on the wind.

Han wasn’t the only one frustrated. By week two, even Lee Minho—Seungmin’s most level-headed lieutenant—was starting to lose his calm.

“Tell me how a goddamn street full of million-dollar real estate has no working cameras?” Minho snapped, slamming a thick folder onto the desk.

“Don’t raise your voice,” Seungmin muttered without looking up.

“I’m not raising it. I’m explaining how stupid this is.”

Minho paced the floor of Seungmin’s study, black-gloved hands clenched and twitching. “You’re telling me that in your territory, there’s an entire street with zero surveillance. That a girl—one girl—shows up, disappears, and we have nothing on her?”

Han exhaled from the armchair. “We tried tracing the route from nearby businesses, traffic cams—half of them are fake or broken. And the only useful one was facing the other side.”

“She wasn’t a plant, right?” Minho asked sharply. “No one sent her?”

“She didn’t even look up,” Seungmin said darkly. “She wasn’t aware of anything except her book.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “And that’s what got you so obsessed?”

Seungmin stood abruptly.

It was the first time in days he’d shown emotion louder than a breath.

“Something about her didn’t belong in this world,” he said, almost to himself. “Like she was dropped into it by mistake. And I…” he dragged a hand through his hair, something unhinged glinting in his eyes, “…I needed to have her.”

Minho didn’t speak. But his jaw ticked.

“If we don’t find her soon,” he said finally, “someone else might. You’re not the only one who noticed you were staring.”

“She’s mine,” Seungmin snapped. “Let them try.”

*********************

Weeks passed.

No face to match. No name to trace. No leads.

He remembered the way your fingers curled around your mug. How your eyes flicked over the page like you were drinking the words. You didn’t even look up when the thunder cracked. You were that absorbed.

You were… different. Something about the stillness in you made the world around you fade.

And it drove him insane.

He dreamt of you.

Sometimes you were sitting at the booth again, sunlight hitting your hair. Sometimes you were on the other side of the window, face pressed to the glass, mouth forming his name. But when he reached for you, you vanished.

By the third week, Seungmin had men positioned around every café, bookstore, and university campus in the district. He scanned police records, hospital visits, university logs. Checked social media using facial sketch renderings. Had artists draw from memory.

He started carrying that small sketch folded in his wallet. An artist’s attempt to draw you from memory.

Han saw it once. “You really think this will help?”

Seungmin didn’t answer. Just stared at the drawing, his thumb brushing across where your mouth would be.

He was furious. And yet still enthralled. Because the harder it was to find you, the deeper you embedded yourself inside his mind.

You became a challenge. A puzzle. An ache he couldn't scratch away.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered one night, slumped back in his leather office chair, brows furrowed deeply as a glass of scotch sat untouched on his desk.

“I always find what I want.”

The search turned violent after that.

Bribes weren’t working, so Seungmin turned to threats. A few coffee shop owners went missing. A college registrar’s office burned down. Rumors started swirling about a “ghost girl” and the man obsessed with her.

But no one could give him your name.

The longer you evaded him, the worse his temper got.

Minho stopped arguing with him. Han spoke in a calculated tone. The entire gang operated under a cloud of tension, walking on eggshells because Kim Seungmin was unraveling.

“Find her,” he growled. “Or you��ll wish you were never born.”

Each night, in the silence of the mansion, he sat by the window — scotch in one hand, your sketch in the other.

Every night, that same question: Where the hell are you?

*********************

Three months in.

Minho entered his office with a grim look. “I think I got a hit.”

Seungmin straightened immediately. “Where?”

“College campus. Some girl matching your description helped a classmate with a presentation. One of the guys mentioned a book you were reading… it matched the one from the café. Niche edition. Rare.”

Seungmin was already grabbing his coat.

“I want eyes on every exit,” he ordered, voice low but sharp. “We move only when I say.”

The next hour passed like a countdown. Minho took the wheel. Jisung slid into the passenger seat beside him. Seungmin sat in the back, silent, unreadable, one hand tapping slowly against his thigh. Rain drizzled over the windshield as they pulled up outside the university’s east gate.

They waited.

Minutes stretched. Students trickled out in clusters—hoods up, laughter rising faintly even through the closed windows.

And then you finally stepped out of a building with a few other students, hoodie pulled over your head, laughing at something someone said.

He knew instantly.

Even before your face turned toward the road—he knew.

His breath hitched.

“That’s her,” he muttered, barely audible.

Han followed his gaze and smirked. “Three months of hell, and we finally found her.”

Seungmin watched you from the shadows, his eyes wild with something dark and aching.

“There you are,” he murmured.

Three months.

Three months of madness. Of obsession. Of sleepless nights and fraying patience.

And there you were. Just walking. Just breathing. Just existing like you hadn’t haunted him all this time. He smiled slowly but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let her walk home,” he said. “I want to know exactly where she lives.”

Seungmin’s eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. His chest rose once, then fell slowly.

He leaned back in the leather seat, fingers tapping the armrest in thought. Han was already dialing someone.

“Got her,” Han murmured into the phone. “University campus, east side. She just exited Building C. Heading south.” 

Pause.

“No. Boss says let her walk. Tail her. We need a confirmed residence before anything else.”

He ended the call and turned back slightly. “She doesn’t even know what’s coming, huh?”

Seungmin’s gaze was razor sharp. “Not yet.”

From the driver’s seat, Minho glanced in the rearview mirror and smirked. “I gotta say, I didn’t think anyone could get under your skin like this. But here you are. Reckless, obsessed, and even more stubborn.”

Han crossed one leg over the other, still casual. Still light. “You’ve had senators beg for your favor. Rival bosses fear your name. But a girl reading in a café?”

Seungmin’s voice dropped to a cold murmur. “She made everything else disappear. Just for a second. I’ve never had that before.”

Han, the ever-loyal consigliere — second-in-command and Seungmin’s most trusted mind — finally sobered. He saw it now, the storm building in his boss’s eyes.

“Alright,” Han said, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “Then let’s do this right. Clean. Quiet. No mistakes.”

The rain had stopped, but the streets were still slick with its memory. You walked briskly, headphones in but music low, the weight of your backpack tugging against your shoulders with every step. A faint fog curled around the edges of the sidewalk as streetlamps flickered to life, casting long, lonely shadows.

At first, it felt like any other week night. You’d stayed late for a study session and were on your way back to your apartment. Tired. Hungry. Ready to collapse.

But then that feeling.

The kind you couldn’t quite place. A tingle along the back of your neck. That primal whisper in your bones that said you’re being watched.

You glanced behind you.

Nothing. Just a sleek black car parked down the block. Engine purring low. You thought you’d seen it earlier near the campus gates, but maybe you were imagining things. You weren’t used to this part of the city. Maybe it belonged to someone in one of the new apartment complexes.

Still.

You crossed the street.

And when you turned again, the car had moved. Just a few meters forward. Slow. Deliberate.

Your steps quickened. The car matched pace. That’s when your stomach twisted.

You tugged out your phone and pretended to answer a call. “Hey. Yeah, I’m almost home. Just two blocks away. Yeah, can you come down and meet me at the door?”

Your voice was loud. Sharp. A deterrent. But the car didn’t stop. From the backseat of that car, Seungmin watched. Silent. Focused.

“She’s smart,” Han muttered beside him. “Caught on faster than I expected.”

Seungmin didn’t respond.

He watched you turn again. Eyes scanning the street. Your chest rising just a bit too quickly. The panic blooming behind your calm façade. He could tell. And fuck, did it make him feel alive.

He had waited three goddamn months for this. Scoured the city, bribed officials, threatened civilians, pulled every string he had just to find a girl he knew for maybe thirty seconds.

But those thirty seconds had ruined him.

“Don’t grab her yet,” he said quietly.

Han blinked. “Why not? We know where she lives now. She’s vulnerable.”

Seungmin leaned forward slightly, his voice low. Controlled. Dangerous.

“She ran once. I want to see how far she thinks she can go before she breaks.

You didn’t look back again. You couldn’t. Your heart was hammering now, your legs carrying you faster than you thought possible, the edges of your vision blurring. You practically ran the final block, breath shallow, keys already clenched between your fingers like a makeshift weapon. Just in case.

And then someone grabbed you.

Not harshly. Not like you expected. Just a firm hand around your wrist, a second one over your mouth. The shock of it froze you. Then you thrashed.

You kicked, screamed into the palm muffling your voice, tried to bite, claw, anything—

But another set of hands caught you from behind.

“Careful,” a voice muttered near your ear. “She’s feisty.”

That unfamiliar voice was low, smooth. Tinted with casual amusement, like this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. Like this was just another Wednesday for him.

“I told you to bring the damn chloroform sooner,” another voice snapped. Cold. Dispassionate. Less amused, more… efficient.

Something sweet hit your nose. A soaked cloth pressed against your face. Your body instinctively struggled, adrenaline trying to fight the chemicals rushing through your system.

“Your apartment’s way out of the way, couldn't you just stay in the campus dorm, huh?” Han sighed. “Would’ve saved us the gas.”

You struggled weakly, everything swam and then the world blurred.

“Shut up,” Minho said flatly. “She’s out.”

Minho lifted you without a word, his arms steady as he carried your limp form towards the car parked a bit the building. Han walked in front and opened the backseat door. 

Inside, Seungmin was waiting.

The moment Minho leaned in and passed your unconscious body to him, Seungmin reached out, almost too quickly. His arms wrapped around you carefully, protectively, as if afraid you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“You were real,” he whispered, watching you like a starved man. “God, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

He was brushing the strands of hair from your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin like you were something sacred. His expression unreadable. Han closed the door behind them with a soft click.

Rain pattered on the roof. Inside, it was silent.

Seungmin leaned closer, his lips ghosting against your forehead—not quite a kiss. Almost reverent.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” he whispered.

One hand cradled the back of your head. The other traced the line of your jaw, feather-light.

“You disappeared like a dream that night,” he murmured. “But I’m done dreaming now.”

His voice was calm, steady, but something about it sent a chill down even Minho’s spine.

“Mine,” Seungmin whispered again. “Finally… mine.”

*********************

Your head pounded. The first thing you registered was the softness beneath you—silken sheets, a mattress far too plush to be your own. Then the light. Dim, golden, filtering through sheer curtains that danced lazily with the breeze.

You blinked groggily. Your limbs felt like they weighed a ton, but your heart quickened with the creeping realization that this wasn’t your room.

This wasn’t your home.

You sat up slowly, panic curling in your gut. The room around you was lavish—elegant, but unfamiliar. Marble floors, velvet drapes, carved furniture that looked too expensive to touch. A mansion.

Someone had taken you. You had been kidnapped.

Your hands trembled as you looked down—still wearing your shirt and jeans.No injuries. No bruises.

Suddenly, the door opened and a man stepped in like he owned the world. And he did. In a way. Dressed in a sharp dark suit over a shirtless vest in deep green marble-textured hue with a metallic sheen. His hair was neatly styled— parted slightly off-center with long, layered bangs that softly frame the face and sweep naturally across the forehead. His face wore a chilling calm. The kind that didn’t need anger to be terrifying. 

You knew that face. You’d seen it whispered about in headlines, splashed across grainy surveillance images and blurred news clips.

Kim Seungmin. The ghost in the criminal underworld. The youngest and most merciless of them all. The mafia prince with a smile that made people disappear.

Your blood ran cold. You tried to stand but stumbled.

"Don’t rush," he added, walking in like he owned the air you were breathing. "The drugs take a bit to wear off. It’s a custom blend. Just enough to keep you quiet. Not enough to hurt you."

He approached you slowly, his footsteps soft on the marble, his presence impossibly overwhelming. He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, not saying a word, and gently cupped your face in his hand.

That’s when you really saw him.

Seungmin's features were carved with precision. His skin was smooth and fair, glowing faintly in the golden light. His jawline was sharp and elegant, and his lips—soft, plush, and slightly parted—were tinged with an unreadable expression.

But it was his eyes that held you captive. Dark brown, deep like ink and impossible to read. They were cold, yet curious. Soft, yet calculating. They flicked across your face like he was memorizing it—committing it to his memory.

You noticed the tiny moles on his face— one on his left cheek and the other one on his nose, making him look even more endearing. 

You wanted to look away. You should’ve looked away.

But you didn’t.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low, smooth—like velvet laced with steel. “Good.”

Your pulse thundered. 

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, the barest smile pulling at his lips. “You’re scared. That’s good. Means you understand who I am.”

His fingers brushed your cheek with dangerous tenderness. His eyes were void of mercy. 

“You’re mine now,” Seungmin whispered. “I don’t share. I don’t let go. And I sure as hell don’t lose.”

You froze.

The chill in his voice laced with something darker than possessiveness—it was certainty. Finality. Like your fate had already been sealed the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seungmin took your wrist and then he brought your hand up to his chest, resting it over the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—tauntingly calm compared to your own frantic one.

“You feel that?” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “That’s how steady I stay… even when everything else burns.”

You turned your face away, jaw clenched. His proximity suffocated you—his expensive cologne, that quiet dominance in his posture, the way his eyes drank in your fear like it thrilled him.

“Why am I here? Why.… why did you take me?” you asked. “Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to you…”

“You did everything,” he said. “You stole from me.”

Your brows furrowed. “What…? I didn’t steal anything—”

“Yes, you did.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You stole my heart. You belong to me now.”

You went still.

“I don’t belong to you,” you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts. “You can’t just take people.”

He leaned in slowly, lips ghosting near your ear.

“I didn’t take you,” he breathed. “I claimed what’s mine.”

You trembled, torn between fury and fear. “No, please, let me go.”

A low chuckle escaped him, warm breath grazing your neck. “I’ve been searching the whole world for you, love.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, the cruel amusement fading, replaced by something far more dangerous—intent.

“Let you go?” He scoffed, “I had to find you. Had to dig through shadows, burn cities, turn every stone until I felt the ghost of your presence. You think that was easy?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice cracking. “Let me go.”

Seungmin’s gaze hardened, his stare now sharp as glass. “I’ll give you everything you could ever want,” he said, his tone softer, but colder. “But don’t mistake that for freedom. If you ever try to leave...” 

He let the words hang in the air, thick with threat, “I’ll make sure you forget what the outside world even feels like.”

You tried to push him away, but his hold only tightened.

Then, without warning, he kissed your temple. Soft. Almost loving. The contradiction made your skin crawl.

“Rest,” he said, guiding you back toward the bed like a twisted lullaby. “You’ll need your strength. There's so much I want to show you.”

And as he pulled the covers over you, like a lover might, he whispered once more—

“Everything you were before… is over. You're mine now.”

The door clicked shut behind him, the echo of his footsteps retreating down the marble corridor. Only then did your lungs finally expand in a full breath.

You sat upright, trembling beneath the weight of his words—You’re mine now.

The echo of that sentence coiled like barbed wire around your chest. A moment later, the door opened again.

But this time, it wasn’t him.

A woman stepped inside — middle-aged, expression blank. She wore a simple black uniform, the crisp white apron spotless. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she silently walked over to the edge of the bed, setting down a folded dress of deep emerald silk beside you.

“You’re to wash and change,” she said in a clipped tone. Her voice held no emotion. “The master wants you presentable.”

You stared at her, your voice still unsteady. “Wait—please. Can you tell me—where am I? Why is he—why is this happening?”

But the woman had already turned.

“Please!” you tried again, louder. “Can you just help me—just tell me if someone is coming for me—”

She paused at the door but didn’t turn back. Her voice was low and eerily calm, “Don’t try to run. There are guards outside. They have orders.”

And then she left.

You scrambled from the bed and ran to the door, but the handle didn’t budge. Locked.

Just outside, you could hear faint murmurs—low, male voices. Guards. Just like she said.

You turned slowly, the room no longer luxurious but suffocating. A cage dressed in silk.

Your eyes dropped to the dress.

It shimmered faintly in the light. The fabric was soft to the touch, tailored perfectly to your size. You hadn’t told him your size.

He knew.

You swallowed hard, hugging your arms around yourself. Somewhere in this palace of quiet horror, Kim Seungmin was waiting. 

You paced the room like a caged animal. The dress lay untouched on the edge of the bed—silky, delicate, expensive. Just another reminder that you weren’t a guest here. You were a possession being wrapped up like a gift.

You’d tested the windows. Locked.

Tried the balcony. Too high up. No phone, no landline, not even a clock. The guards stationed outside your door hadn’t moved in hours. No way to slip past them, no chance to ask the maid anything—she’d disappeared before you even got a word out.

Your mind raced through escape plans, every single idea falling apart the moment it met the cold weight of reality.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps until the door slammed open.

Seungmin.

His presence sucked the air out of the room.

His dark suit’s jacket sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the veins in his forearms prominent as he pushed the door shut with a force that made the walls flinch.

"Why," he said slowly, his voice low and sharp as a blade, "are you still in those clothes?"

You froze, eyes widening as his gaze bored into you. The clothes you were wearing from the day before—had become a silent statement, a refusal to accept the reality he had forced you into. But now, with his anger simmering and his jaw clenched tight, you knew that defiance was no longer an option.

His voice lowered further, a quiet growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “I didn’t bring you here to have you walking around in those filthy things. Freshen up. You’ll wear the new clothes I had prepared for you. Now.”

Your heart raced. The last thing you wanted was to comply, but the tension in his voice made it clear that disobedience would come with consequences you weren’t ready to face.

“I give you comfort, safety, everything, and you can’t follow one simple instruction?” He snapped.

You stepped back as he strode forward, cornering you without touching you. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was a wall.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he hissed, eyes narrowing. “Pacing like that. Looking at the window. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I just want to go home,” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “This is your home now.”

Your fists clenched. “You’re insane.”

His lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. “Maybe. But you’re still here. So what does that make you?”

He grabbed the dress and shoved it into your hands, gentler than you expected—but the threat in his voice was unmistakable.

“Put. It. On.”

Then he leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear again, the same way he had hours ago when he stole the ground from under your feet.

“If you ever want to walk through that door without chains on,” he whispered, “you better start learning how to play your part.”

And with that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood frozen for a few long seconds, heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to shatter your ribs. You realised you had no choice but to play along. For now.

You made your way to the en-suite bathroom. It was massive—gold-trimmed mirrors, a claw-foot tub, rainfall shower, the kind of place that felt too luxurious to be real. You stared at your reflection under the soft vanity light. Your skin looked dull. Eyes hollow. But there was a spark behind them. Defiance.

You carefully undressed, stepping into the steaming shower. Every movement calculated. You let yourself feel human again under the water—just for a moment. But even in there, your mind worked overtime.

There were no cameras in the bathroom, as far as you could see. No microphones either… you hoped. Maybe Seungmin thought you were too drugged, too scared, too broken to strategize.

Good. Let him think that.

Let him think you were weak.

When you stepped out, the emerald dress clung to your damp skin like liquid temptation. You fastened the clasp, staring at yourself again.

You looked like someone else. A doll. A bride dressed for a marriage you never consented to.

But your eyes were yours. Burning now.

Back in the bedroom, you scanned again. Window. Balcony. Furniture. You knelt beside the bed, ran your fingers along the underside of the frame. Nothing yet—but you’d keep checking. If there was a way out, you’d find it. And if not? You’d make one.

The guards were still posted outside. You tested the lock with a twist—it was electronic. Impossible to open without access.

But that meant something important: it could be hacked.

Your brain began mapping every possibility. All you needed was a device. A phone. A wire. A keyboard. Anything.

You sat down at the vanity table and opened the drawer. It was full of makeup products and accessories, but you weren't looking for lipstick or brushes. Your fingers trembled as you dug through the items, praying for something—anything—that could help you. Nothing.

*********************

You tried to escape two nights later.

The door hadn't been locked. You had waited—counting the seconds, memorizing the guards' rotation, mapping out the halls like your life depended on it.

And it did.

The moment the opportunity presented itself, you ran.

But you didn’t make it far. He was already there.

His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. “You never learn, do you?” he muttered, his voice a low rasp that sent chills down your spine before he grabbed you by the waist and forced you into your room before throwing you back onto the bed with a force that stole the air from your lungs.

You screamed, kicked, scratched, fought with every ounce of strength you could muster.

“Let me go, you fucking asshole!” you cried out. “Let me go!”

He didn’t even flinch. With a calmness that made your skin crawl, he pinned your wrists above your head, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

And just like that, the storm inside you quieted—he had control. Again.

"You’re testing me," he growled, his grip tightening, "and I don’t think you want to see what happens when I’m truly tested."

Your heart raced, pulse thundering in your ears, but you met his eyes with all the defiance you had left.

“You’re disgusting,” you spat, words trembling with fury. “You’re sick.”

His face remained unchanged. The same icy calm.

“I let you breathe,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath hot against your skin. “Let you sleep in silk. Treat you like a queen. And you still curse me?”

You could feel the heat of his proximity, his lips grazing the side of your jaw, sending a sickening thrill through your body.

His words came in a murmur, soft and deadly. “You’ll learn to love me,” he promised. “You will.”

*********************

The guards came twice a day—once in the morning, once before sunset. They never said a word. Their footsteps echoed against marble floors, and their eyes never left your face. Each tray of untouched food was replaced by a fresh one, steaming and seasoned, taunting you with the scent of meals you once loved. You didn’t eat. Not out of rebellion anymore—but because your stomach couldn’t bear to keep anything down.

Sometimes, you woke to the soft rustle of fabric at the foot of your bed—new clothes, pristine and folded with meticulous care. Dresses that shimmered like liquid gold, silks in soft pastels, heels you’d once admired in glass store windows.

Other mornings, it was flowers. Always your favorites. How did he know? The answer was simple. He had dug through your past and he used it against you.

He always came to see you in the mornings before leaving for work—and again at night.

Like some cruel tradition, he arrived after dark, just as the silence began to settle over your bones. You could feel him before you saw him—his presence thick in the air, like a storm waiting to strike. 

The fifth night, you cracked. 

You were shaking—cold, exhausted, hungry, and unraveling. Tears blurred your vision as you were curled up on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, when the door creaked open. You didn’t move. Not even when the sound of his shoes broke the quiet, soft against the carpeted floor.

Carrying a bowl of soup in one hand and a glass of water in the other. You sat on the edge of the bed, silent, unmoving.

“You look thinner,” Seungmin said, his voice calm, but with a weight beneath it. “Are you trying to punish me?”

You didn’t answer.

“I’m not playing with you anymore,” he said, placing the bowl on your bedside table. “You’re going to eat.”

You turned your head, “No.”

His jaw clenched. He took a deep breath, walked to your side, and crouched so your eyes were level.

“You haven’t eaten in five days!”

“Good.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up the spoon, scooped some soup, and held it out to you.

You stared at it, “I will spit it in your face.”

He said nothing. Just brought the spoon closer. You slapped it away. Hot broth spilled over your blanket, staining it. His eyes darkened.

“That’s enough.”

He moved faster than you could react—gripping your jaw tightly, prying your mouth open with terrifying precision.

“You don’t have to like it,” he said coldly. “But you will survive.”

The spoon came again. You turned your head. Fought. But he held you in place, firm and unyielding, forcing the liquid down your throat one spoonful at a time.

You coughed. Gagged.

Tears streamed down your cheeks—not from pain. Not even from fear. But from the helplessness.

When it was over, he wiped your chin gently with a napkin, then rose to his feet.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

You glared through your tears. He didn’t smile this time. He just left.

The next morning, you woke with a sharp sting in your arm. You groaned, instinctively trying to move—but your wrist tugged against a soft restraint. That’s when you saw it. A thin IV line trailing from your vein to a clear drip bag hanging beside your bed.

“What the hell—?”

“Don’t move too much,” came a calm, unfamiliar voice from the corner of the room.

You turned your head sharply.

A man stood there, clipboard in hand, white coat hanging open over all-black clothes. His face was calm. Hands gloved. Eyes unreadable.

“I’m Dr. Bang Christopher,” he said. “But you can call me Chan.”

“…His doctor?”

“Personal physician,” he corrected, walking over to check the IV. “You were dangerously dehydrated. Malnourished. Refusing food, I heard. So this was the next best solution.”

You yanked your arm again. “Take it out.”

He didn’t even blink. “I can’t.”

“Take it out!”

“I take orders from Mr Kim,” he said flatly, adjusting your pulse monitor. “Not you.”

You stared at him in horror. He looked back at you, then down at his notes.

“Don’t try to pull it out yourself. You’ll bleed.”

With that, he scribbled something, removed his gloves, and turned to leave. At the door, he paused.

“He cares for you, you know,” he said, without looking back. “As much as a man like him can.”

Then he was gone. Leaving you restrained, broken.

*********************

Seungmin came into your room again later at midnight. He crouched beside you, hands resting loosely on his knees. He studied you the way a collector might inspect a rare object—something precious, but already cracking.

“You’ve been here for a week,” he murmured. “And still, you fight me.”

Your eyes lifted, burning. “Because I’m not yours.”

Something in his jaw tensed. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You jerked away.

He sighed. “I’m not your enemy.”

That made you laugh—a bitter, broken sound.

“You kidnapped me,” you hissed. “You locked me up like a doll in a glass box and you expect gratitude?”

He tilted his head. “No. I expect understanding.”

“Understanding?” Your voice rose, wild with disbelief. “You think this is love?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that love can grow in strange places. Even in cages. Even in silence.”

You shook your head. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning in, “you still look at me like you’re waiting for me to crack.”

He wrapped his arms around you as you resisted. But he held you tighter.

“I can wait,” he whispered. “I can wait longer than you can resist.”

“Let me go! Ple—please, just let me go!”

“You’re hurting yourself,” he whispered into your hair. “Stop. Please.”

You sobbed in his arms, trembling, hating yourself for how warm he felt. How safe. How his cologne smelled like cedar and regret and something that almost made you ache.

“I hate you,” you whispered. “I hate you, I hate you—”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and stood up to leave. The door closed behind him with a click.

And you were alone again—with your breath quick, your fists clenched, and your fear folding itself into anger.

Just like that a month passed already.

You hadn’t said a word to him.

Not when he brought you new clothes. Not when he knocked. Not when he stood silently in the doorway, watching you with eyes full of something far too close to obsession.

You reluctantly ate food just enough to survive. Kept tearing the flowers he sent to shreds.

And when you looked up at the camera blinking red above your bed, you made sure he saw your middle finger.

Still, he never stopped watching.

He sent books. Jewelry. A bottle of expensive perfume you used to love.

All unopened. All untouched. You wouldn’t let him win.

Until that night.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him. Measured. Unhurried. Like he already knew how this would end.

The door creaked open. He stepped inside, and immediately, you knew.

Something was wrong.

He wasn’t composed like usual. He wasn’t cold or calculated. He looked... exhausted. Frustrated. Dangerous.

“You’re still doing this,” he said quietly, voice rough like he hadn’t spoken all day. “Still pretending like you hate me.”

You didn’t respond. Just glared at him from where you sat on the edge of the bed. He stepped closer.

“I’ve done everything for you,” he continued, his voice low, controlled—but trembling at the edges. “I found you. Brought you here. I gave you everything. And you act like I’m the villain.”

You stood up, slowly. “You are the villain.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”

“You kidnapped me. Drugged me. Threw me in a stranger’s house and tried to dress it up like a castle.” You shook your head, biting down the trembling in your throat. “That’s not love, Seungmin. That’s psychotic.”

He flinched at the word. Actually flinched.

You pushed further. “You want to keep me here like a doll in a cage, then go ahead. But don’t pretend it’s about love.”

He reached for you, sudden and sharp, grabbing your face in one hand. You gasped.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” he said, voice shaking now. “Don’t look at me like I’m a monster.”

“I don’t have to look at you like that,” you snapped, breath catching. “You are one.”

He stared at you—really stared. His expression was blank and cold.

“You’ll come around,” he said finally. “You’ll understand.”

“No,” you whispered, fury rising behind your ribs. “I will never understand this. I will never want you. I would rather die than love you.”

Something cracked. His hand dropped. He stepped back like your words had sliced him open. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then he turned to the guards at the door, voice ice.

“Don’t let her leave this room. Not unless she changes her mind.”

“Seungmin—” you began, but the door slammed behind him before you could finish.

And then there was silence.

You collapsed, back hitting the edge of the bed as your knees gave out. Tears gathered in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were trembling, you were afraid and a heavy sigh escaped you as hopelessness settled in.

*********************

Crying had become a routine— not from fear. But from frustration. Because you deeply loathed him.

You hated the way he stared at you like you were his salvation and his possession. You hated the way his voice sank into your bones, the way he touched you like you’d shatter, the way your body had stopped resisting even when your mind still screamed.

You hated that no one was coming.

And worse, that a part of you had stopped hoping they would.

You curled under the sheets, fists clenched, teeth biting into your sleeve to muffle the sobs. Every shadow in the room felt like him. Every creak in the walls sounded like his footsteps.

You didn’t want to need him.

But your body was weak, your mind even weaker, and the isolation was breaking you apart thread by thread.

You thought of your family—did they even know you were missing? Were they looking for you? Had they given up?

The door creaked open. You didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. You already knew it was him.

Seungmin stepped inside slowly, quietly, like he’d done every night since you arrived. He sat at the edge of the bed without a word.

And you didn’t tell him to leave. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t say anything. He just sat there in the dark, a silent presence—watching, breathing, waiting.

Eventually, you rolled onto your back, your eyes meeting his in the low light.

“…I can’t escape, can I?”

His silence answered for him.

You swallowed hard, the bitterness lodged deep in your throat.

“I’m never getting out of here.”

Seungmin’s gaze softened—sad, gentle, but far from apologetic.

“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

Your chest rose and fell slowly. Shallow breaths. Eyes dry now. You looked up at the ceiling. The moonlight washed over your face.

“…Fine.”

Your voice was hollow. A whisper of surrender. Not love. Not forgiveness. Not even understanding. Just the cold, empty truth. There was no escape. So you stopped trying.

And when Seungmin’s hand slowly reached for yours—this time, you didn’t pull away.

You didn’t hold it either.

You just let it happen.

Because maybe that was all you had left.

The next morning, Seungmin entered your room.

His day always started better when he saw you—still asleep, curled up beneath the soft sheets like something fragile and precious.

You didn’t stir when the door creaked open. He stepped inside quietly, like he always did, careful not to wake you. The sight of you—peaceful, unmoving—eased something deep in his chest.

You looked… soft today. Less angry. Less hollow.

He approached your bedside and crouched beside you, letting his fingers graze the blanket near your hand. Not quite touching. Just close enough to feel your warmth.

He’d memorized you like scripture—the way your breath hitched when you dreamed, the way your lashes fluttered just before you stirred, the way your fingers used to clench the sheets when he entered.

But now, they were still. You didn’t flinch anymore. That tiny shift meant everything.

Seungmin sat there for a moment longer, just watching. Admiring. Loving.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Why don’t you see it, baby?”

He reached forward, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. You shifted slightly in your sleep but didn’t pull away. His hand lingered for just a second more before retreating, trembling with restraint.

You looked like peace.

But he knew the battle inside you hadn’t ended. Only changed shape.

Still… he could feel it. The quiet acceptance in the way you no longer resisted his presence. The way your body allowed his closeness. The way your fingers had once grazed his hand and didn’t pull away.

You hated him. He knew that. But in time, he would rewrite that hate. He would replace it—slowly, methodically—with something warmer. Something softer.

“You know me now,” he continued, his voice low, almost hypnotic. “You hate me but that’s also an emotion, right? You feel something for me.”

He stood, stealing one last look at you before leaving for the day. His heart ached, swollen with the weight of longing and victory.

You were still here. You hadn’t run. And last night, for the first time… you had let him hold your hand.

“You can deny it all you want,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with an undeniable certainty. “But we’re bound now. You’ll see.”

As he closed the door behind him, his lips curled into the faintest smile.

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

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[awordsmith]

french perfume 𝜗𝜚 r. spencer

when the ASIO–calls the FBI for reinforcements, y𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿 are chosen to go undercover as boarding school students to figure out why prestigious teenagers are mysteriously disappearing.

you only have each other on the inside, but interacting means the possibility of getting caught, and getting caught would blow the entire operation.

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s10 genre: angst (thriller) content warning: heavy mentions of mass SA on teenagers-disappearing teenagers-Spencer identity crisis-sa(not too graphic) on reader, very much dark academia-gloomy castle aesthetic. . .reid with incredible care !! word count: 18.8k a/n: boarding school by lana del rey is all i have to say for this one... enjoy!!

The uniform fit just right…as if it had been altered to fit your particular body. Per further inspection, you noticed the gray blazer’s sleeves hitting your wrists just above your palms and the gray pleated skirt hitting the middle of your knees, you were inclined to believe this detail confidently.

Your frown held still, a blank expression registered to everyone around you that you were not the everyday school girl, though in America, uniforms always seemed to differentiate the poor from the wealthy, so perhaps it was that as well as the two men behind you, dressed in all black with earpieces slightly evident in their ear.

Earbuds in your ear connected to an iPod, playing one of your favorite albums. Though it was just for show, it was all for show. You were undercover and your name was no longer — —, but — —. 

You’d been training your acting skills, away from the rest of the team. You needed to be her. This character that you’d made up the day you had gotten the case. You weren’t just playing the American Rich Girl, you were the American Rich Girl. You had to be or else everything everyone had been working for up until this point went to shit.

You ignored the man in brown and the woman in bright green. They were no one, the moment you stepped into the mini limousine outside your home in Atherton, they’d been lost to your memory.

Your black Mary Janes clicked past the line of people riding coach and business. You focussed on the silver iPod in your hand, heading toward first class. Four others were riding with you, you disregarded their presence as well. The bodyguards in black stayed behind, saying something into their earpieces. It caught the attention of the other first-class riders, one woman approached you. It’d be great for your first real interaction as her.

There were no cameras on board, so as you settled into one of the middle-row seats, you plucked an earbud out and settled your small backpack on the cushion, “sorry, could you repeat that one more time?” Your voice took on an airy tone, it didn’t sound foreign–you wondered–no. You forced that thought down and after the woman asked, “Where are you flying to?” you’d forgotten all about it.

“Australia,” you smiled, taking out the other earbud and wrapping the wiring around the iPod.

“For school?” She took her seat across from you.

“Boarding school,” you frowned, “Father says it’s better than anything in America.” Your eyes rolled as you settled into your own space.

“That’s a cute uniform.” You nodded to agree, “And your father is probably right, what school?”

Right. “That’s private information,” you reassessed her with a raised brow.

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, then she nodded. You had to hide the small smile the slid across your face. She was probably wondering who you were to be thinking of yourself so highly. You would be lying if you’d said you didn’t get a kick out of making heads turn in such a way.

Two more bodyguards were waiting for you when you landed and a limousine–normal length this time–waiting for you outside the airport. When you stepped inside you were finally able to breathe. The windows were tinted, though you hadn’t begun moving. 

“— —, I presume?” The blonde man dressed in a neatly pressed suit did not match the surfer accent he had.

“Depends on who you ask, I suppose.” A sly grin stretched across your mouth and you brushed a lock of hair behind your pierced ear, showing off the white pearls.

He chuckled, “You know who I am, then?”

“The Head of the ASIO?” You raised a brow, noting the largeness of the vehicle.

“Spot on,” he winked, “the uniform fits better than expected.” He motioned with a hand.

“So I’ve been told,” you tugged on the sleeves and feeling a bit childish, sat further upward to show your maturity, he noticed, but neglected to comment. “And my counterpart, do you think his fits just as well?”

“Ah, yes,” he glanced at the ceiling, “your partner in this investigation, he should have gotten off his flight from Russia right about now, he’ll be on his way to the school just as sufficiently.” 

The agent checked his watch, a more serious expression taking over his features right before he pounded on the window separating the front from the back–and like that, the limousine began moving.

“You know your objective, I assume, but I’d like to go over it with you.” He crossed a leg over the other, his pants riding up his ankle, showing the cutoff of his finely polished shoes.

“We go in, collect evidence, and get out.”

“Without busting your cover.” He stated, leaning forward slightly, “Now…what about the other thing?”

“You mean the objective only I was assigned?”

“Precisely. It’d be,” he shook slightly, “discouraging if anyone else got wind out it–from my knowledge only you, I, and your boss know the details.”

You nodded, refining your face toward a colder version of what it once was, “I know exactly what I’m doing and I have given my full consent.”

“Do you remember his name?” The agent raised a blonde brow, his blue eyes piercing your gaze to the point of making you shift uncomfortably.

“I do.”

“Good,” he leaned back, pulling out a bottle of wine, “do you prefer white?”

“Red is fine,” you took the glass willingly, you wouldn’t have access for God knew how long. One last glass wouldn’t hurt.

The car came to a stop, “We’re here,” he sighed and glanced toward the large gate to outside the window closest him. You handed back your glass and reached for the door, but one of his hands shot out and stopped you, “remember we will not be with you on the inside. The only person you have is…him–and even then–”

“I know,” you waved your arm in font of yoru face after snatching it out of his, feeling your gaze harden–you could do this. “This isn’t about proving myself, Director. Trust me, I know what’s at stake.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, he looked pitiful. He couldn’t have been older than 40, barely a 12-year age gap, but you could tell he was worried if this was the right thing. The ASIO has been trying to crack down on this school for over a year–just one slip-up would send the entire operation overboard.

“The Australian government wants our help,” your eyebrows furrowed, “ why?” You were spinning in your chair before Penelope’s hands were firmly planted on either side of your shoulders, forcing the chair to come to a halt.

“Oh sweetie, you’re gonna want a coffee for this one.”

The Head of the ASIO helped you with your luggage, he was tall for an Australian, which was tall. He also looked pretty well for his age, you noted the slight red spot that circled high around his ring finger, though the ring in question was missing. He didn’t look the part of a recently divorced husband, so perhaps he took it off when he was on the job. He was smart.

“This is where I see you off,” he leaned against the car, hands tucked neatly into his pants pockets.

You pulled your suitcase toward you, finding it a struggle with the duffle bag on top. You pressed your lips together, saluting him–chills. The hair on your neck standing up. Someone was watching you. Your hand gripped the handle of the suitcase, trying your best to not look for the eyes that were surely on you.

“Good luck,” he said, opening the door the the limousine and slipping inside. It took off not long after, leaving you to spin around.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw a short, sallow man, his back bent in ways you didn’t think possible to mimic–and his skin pale–un-ordinarily pale for someone who looked once very tan. “You’re one of the new students, yes?” He had a croaky accent, maybe Old Romanian?

You shook your head, if ever there was a time you needed to focus this was it. “Yes, my name is — —.”

He sighed and averted his eyes, “…follow me.”

You rounded the corner of the gate, and the old man pulled a jangle of keys from around his belt that you only now noticed. “I’m the grounds keeper here, if you ever need anything, I’d advise not coming to me for it…I wouldn’t be able to do much.”

You swallowed, it was only now just hitting you–you were walking into a graveyard dressed up like a school, and you were doing it willingly.

The place looked like it had jumped out of a Renaissance painting, the muted-colored murals on the higher walls and ceilings were chipping and the dull white pillars you saw around almost every corner looked to be falling apart–but past that, you felt like Alice walking through the rabbit hole. “There is one more student supposed to be arriving today. Usually, we never get two new students on the same day–so excuse the abruptness. You’ll have to wait for him in the Headmaster’s Office.”

You kept quiet, unsure if you should respond. In the end, you didn’t, and the maintenance man, whose name you never received, left you in a small room with four chairs, a small, squared table in the middle of each chair, and two chairs sitting against each wall, facing each other.

There was no receptionist at the desk, the entire building seemed vacant. It was a Thursday. Weren’t there supposed to be classes? You folded in on yourself, the curvy, white concrete walls pulled you into a momentary depression. Your anxiety grew and as the minutes ticked by, you felt like you would die here, in this cold, concrete room–alone.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” Came a voice moments after you’d heard the creaking of a door. 

Familiar notes had your ears twitching, your hands moved from your lap to your knees as you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. The accent he’d been perfecting sounded like he’d always spoken that way. You ignored the way it sent a shiver down your spine. “Not at all,” you smiled and stood, dusting nonexistent dust off your newly pressed skirt. “You must be the other student, I’m — —,” you held out a hand, batting your eyelashes.

He was cute–the way his brown curls pulled attention to his big, puppy eyes. His hair looked recently cut, and though it gave him a somewhat boyish charm, the guy in front of you remained too serious for your liking.

He glanced at your hand briefly, ignoring it. Your eyes rolled and you planted a hand on your hip, “not the physical type, I suppose.”

“I apologize,” his voice was deep, it’d rear you into a wall if you weren’t careful. 

You blinked, and took a second to breathe, “It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Have you seen anyone yet?”

You shrugged, “Just the grounds keeper, everyone must be in class.”

He nodded, pulling his luggage toward the side opposite of you, and took up the chair in front of yours. You huffed and sat back down. “You’re Russian?” The boy nodded, it irked you slightly, perhaps his social skills were not all there? “What’s your name?”

“Savino,” he murmured, raising a brow at you, “you’re American.” It was more of an observation than a question and it made your lips thin.

“Ah!” You startled, holding in your scream. Savino smiled slightly, which had you narrowing your eyes. A door creaked open–not the entrance, but one behind the receptionist's desk–and a young-old man filed into the room–if such a crossover were ever possible, it was in front of you.

He was different from the one you’d met at the gate, this one was tall, and a bit on the heavier side. “There you are, my beloved new students.” He held his hands out, you recoiled–as if you’d hug him willingly. He just looked like he smelled horridly.

“I suppose I should show you to your dorms first.” He lips pulled back in what you suppose was meant to be a smile. Yellow, cracked teeth could be noted and somehow, you found yourself wondering just how atrocious his breath must be. 

Your eyes ran over the walls that seemed to twist throughout the school, doing your best to listen to Headmaster Bobefitz as he rambled on about the history of the school. 

Originally it was a castle built for a small king centuries ago–about 40 years prior, the land was bought and turned into a private transnational boarding school, as it was secluded high up in the mountains and had multiple rooms, it seemed the ideal use. Up until the number of students disappearing began raising suspicion with the local police, that is. 

Though, it was private property, and nothing much could be done without a warrant or great cause–and even then, the owners could challenge the police in court. This wasn’t America–yoou had to remember that.

You blinked, almost bumping into the back of Headmaster Bobefitz. He gave you an unnerving smile, “Watch it little mouse, you just might go stumbling into the wrong trap.”

You smiled, though it was awkward, and took a few more steps toward Savino. He noticed and tried to put himself between you and the headmaster, subtly, to be sure.

“This is the East Wing, where male students sleep, female students are not allowed on this side after 18:00 and the same goes for male students in the West Wing, where the female students reside. We will head there next.”

“Will I have a roommate?”

“Did your father not give you the details, Miss —?” He chuckled, and stretched across Savino to pat you on the shoulder, “That’s alright.” You shifted uncomfortably but didn’t move away. This must be a cakewalk to whatever else was going on inside this school.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Savino stepped in front of you, stealing the Headmaster’s attention away, “where are the other students, it seems rather quiet for a school around this time.”

“Yes, well, we have more of a handle on the students here at Gentry Prep–we take the education we give our students very seriously, so to answer your question, your classmates are in class,” he lifted his wrist to his eyes, showing off a brown leather strapped watch. “They are in their second hour now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you teetered on your heels, looking over the ledge of the hall.

Headmaster Bobefitz laughed, “Be careful now, you don’t want to go toppling over.” His jokes left a wretched taste in your mouth, but you managed a half-laugh.

“Where are they, then?”  You eyed the still empty halls.

“At our school, students have one class assigned to them based on how well they did on their entry exam, you two are in the same class.” He eyed Savino with a slight frown, but smiled when his gaze met yours once more.

“I see…”

You did not join the rest of the students that day but rather walked around the premises with the headmaster as your guide. Savino kept his distance from you. As if he was afraid of getting close, though when the headmaster evidently had you feeling uneasy, Savino always said something to deter his attention, and you took that as his way of showing he cared.

It was odd, pretending you were strangers. You had to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as well–you had to remember this was a job, and you were an agent undercover–at the same time, youhad to maintain the Rich Girl facade. It hurt you brain every time those thoughts collided, a sickness overtook you and only a part of you had an inkling of an idea of why that was.

You met your roommate, Cairo. She was a petite and her hair was black on the verge of looking blue if it were any darker. The dorm held two beds pushed against opposite walls, Cairo slept on the right, so you ended up with the left.

Very soon on, you found she was deaf, and you–unable to speak sign language, suggested using paper.

𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨

You passed the open notebook toward Cairo. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes passed over the two words. She looked up, her black eyes containing a weird sort of glow thanks to the lamps that dimly lit up the room. 

Cairo scribbled something with the number two pencil she’d taken out of her pencil pouch. 

Your eyes tracked over the room, locking on the dresser that had been given to you. Cairo had her own, closer to her bed across the lofty area. Each bed had white concrete railings at each corner, holding up a canopy. Cairo’s curtains were sage green, yours were blue, just a shade away from gray.

𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵

read the line under your own handwriting.

Your head tilted and you frowned, “why not?–Oh, sorry,” you nearly smacked yourself before writing your words down and handing it back to her.

She audibly sighed and shook her head, taking the pencil from you. 

𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥

noting that you understood her message, Cairo took back the notebook and ripped the page out, walking toward the fireplace. Your eyebrows raised watching her drop the paper into the flames. Her body language seemed too relaxed for a teenage girl tossing papers into fires.

She grabbed a poker and moved the wood away, soon, the fire died out and all that was left were the lamps at your bedside tables. Though, with one final glance toward you, Cairo too, shut off her lamp. You could hear her rustling in the sheets, and ultimately, you flicked the last source of light off and submerged yourself under the sheets.

As your head hit the back of the one of pillows, you let your thoughts drift. He came to mind. He was so good at acting, it unnerved you. You wondered how detrimental this case would be after it was over.

During the day, you did not claim the name you grew up with, but rather the one that had been given to you four weeks ago. And at night, you weren’t sure what you claimed. Though, when you were secure in the confines of warmth and surrounded by nothing but darkness, you though perhaps you could let her out–just for a moment.

You were already starting to lose your grip on reality, moments when you allowed yourself to come back were the only thing saving you. You turned on your side, your eyes shutting hesitantly. Despite the day's events, you did not feel at all tired. You hadn't met any other students, though you’d seen a few girls milling about the West Wing. You hadn’t known what you were expecting, nor how well it matched with what you had seen.

They looked happy, for the most part, quiet to be sure, but a collective calm had settled over them and they had looked content. Other than the headmaster being a massive creep, you hadn’t seen anything noteworthy. 

…that old guy, the maintenance worker, what was his name again? You couldn’t recall, had you gotten his name? It seemed rather important, but–a yawn escaped you and you nuzzled into the pillow, tugging the blankets tighter around you–that could wait until tomorrow.

The hall was gloomy as you Cairo led you toward your class. Bolted, you thought, glancing at the windows that popped up now and then, perhaps to keep the cold out? Cairo stopped and spun around, motioning toward the door with a few students piling in.

You jabbed a thumb at yourself; she nodded, smiled, and waved, heading toward her class. You knew everything the ASIO had gathered within their months of investigation, they had gathered–probably by illegal means–that the school had a hierarchy. Regardless of what year you were in, you were sorted into a class. Class 1A, 1B, 1C, and 1D for first years. The number altered depending on your year and the letter altered depending on how well you did on the entrance exam. A being the highest ranking.

You noted the swirled print on the plaque attached to the wall near the large lumber door and hid a smirk,  wondering if he was already inside.

The room smelled of old things. Old books, old parchment, old walls, old everything. A few heads turned up when you walked in, but most ignored your presence. No one looked you in the eye, you stuck your hands into the pockets of your blazer, wondering if they could somehow sense you were different.

There was something wrong with the people here, they all acted strangely, Cairo was friendly, but you could tell she was keeping something from you–there wasn’t a need to say–or write–it, you knew just by watching her. Other than that, there was that weirdo headmaster–he’d been a little too touchy, your heart sank…was he? No, someone would’ve–but that’s not–

You fisted your hands, trying to freeze and clear your thoughts, if they were jumping at you all at once, you wouldn’t be able to make any sense of them a single one. An empty seat in the back caught your eye, and as you filed the assumptions creeping in into the cabinet at the back of your head, you steered for it and sat, better to observe this way.

You pulled a notebook from your bag, trying to pass the time, there wasn’t much talk, though it was early, you’d been expecting some burst of excitement, it was Friday, but the buzz in the room made it feel like Monday. You found your eyes drooping, they fe–

“Good morning class.” A firm voice took over the room. You fixated your attention on the woman before you. Mumbled replies were all that came from it, but she seemed to ignore them as she turned her back and began marking up the chalkboard.

There was that same tingling feeling on the back of your neck, subtly, you glanced around the room, and there you found him, second row nearest the door, third seat in the line. He seemed worlds away now, even as he scribbled into his notebook mere feet sepretaring you.

Chills.

Who was watching you? You felt your eyes narrow and your patience growing thinner by the second–but you had to keep your cool. You omitted to the fact that you were being monitored, There wasn’t much you could do about it now, you theorized while you jotted down bullet points on subjects you’d already been taught.

Lunch was the only time you were allowed outside of the classroom since first entering. He stayed close despite his previous actions, it was comforting to know he was always there, keeping an eye out for you should something go wrong.

You wondered if he had noticed anything strange since yesterday… He was better, he always had been–you and everyone else were counting on that now, but outside, people were betting their work on you as well. This is where your skill could come into usage, you wouldn’t call yourself mastered in the art of deception, but you’d never failed an assignment, so perhaps you didn’t need to speak for your psychological skills.

“Excuse me, do you think you could show me where the bathroom is?” 

Blonde bangs swished back and forth as she looked up at you. “Me?” Her accent added to her beauty, it was french, though you couldn’t tell which country it was from, it didn’t sound Parisain, he’d know–you stopped the thought before it was complete and focussed back on the girl in front if you

“Yeah,” you smiled and swayed on your feet, “Who else?” You scoured the empty courtyard, catching Savino in the second floor window, sitting on the small ledge protruding out on the ther side. He gave you a quick once over, and you didn’t miss that raised brow–but rather than allowing the rest of his reaction to show, Savino twisted his body and leaned his back against the window, probably rereading the book evident in his hands.

You bit back a smile, moving closer the girl, “Sure, I don’t see why not,” she collected her things as quickly as she could, “sorry,” she kept her head down, her voice was quiet and incredibly soft, she was a bit shorter than you, an inch or maybe half. When she stood next to you, her scent hit you so vividly. 

She painted a scenery with that fragrance: sitting at your kitchen table on a gloomy, rainy day, looking out the window as you drink vanilla coffee and eat cherries, spitting the pits into a glass bowl.

She spoke very timidly and mostly refused to meet your eyes, you tried to move away from the topic of what she smelled like, but it stuck with you, leaving an impression you were sure even he couldn’t explain away. “You’re very quiet.” You wanted to ask if she had any friends, but you thought you rather knew the answer already.

“Oh,” was all she said. You thought it queer and wondered perhaps if she knew something about what Cairo was keeping, perhaps she knew exactly what your roommate seemed to not want to talk about. 

As this girl led you down a path made of stones, you let your eyes roam across the grassy area, “is this the closest bathroom?’

“Out here? Yeah.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind a pale ear.

“Your earrings are cute, where’d you get them?”

“Oh,” she stumbled over the word, “uhm–they were a gift…” 

You nodded, though her gaze was centered elsewhere. They looked pretty expensive, though you had to remind yourself that here–it was normal to be able to afford things like white-gold, dangled diamond earrings. You sighed–a bit depressed at the thought–and hummed, “So, do you come out here often?”

“Every day except–” she paused, “most of the time, yeah.”

You wanted to ask, but you knew it was too soon. You were still the new girl, everyone had yet to drop their guard. “What’s your name? Forgive me, I forgot to ask.”

“Avice,” she said, a bit louder this time and–he abruptly crossed your mind just then, you wondered how he was fairing, you were no longer in sight of the school, he must have noted your disappearance. If you weren’t back within half an hour, he’d probably make up some excuse to come to search for you–your heart swelled and you tried to shake off the hotness that had grown on your cheeks. “We’ve arrived.”

The day withered, growing dark and cold. Classes went on as usual, Avice smiled at you during two instances, and Savino glanced at you from time to time, but not long enough for anyone to notice–other than you, of course. He was keeping a safe distance, as you kept reminding yourself that was needed for this operation to end successfully. Your brain knew that and your body knew that, but your heart ached to talk to him again. 

You wondered if it was as hard on him as it was on you, to be so close and yet so far. You were once inseparable, you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in over a month–he’d been in Russia obtaining his new identity because as soon as your team had gotten the case, you had both instantly taken on the roles assigned to you. Though a clean and neat infiltration took time, it was a priority and had been fast-tracked.

It would be a lie to say the school didn’t have its fair share of normalcy, but the odd-to-normal ratio was stark. Your second day at Gentry Prep was over, yet as you turned on your side under the sheets, you couldn’t help noting the moon peeking through the window’s curtains–it looked to be a waning crescent, reminding you that this was only the beginning. 

The school bell rang its last warning, it had still been dark outside when you had walked down the halls with Cairo this morning, the shutters were now shut in the classroom, you could smell the rain that had stopped earlier this morning, it was much colder than the day before. You shivered and pressed your legs together.

Avice had waved to you on your way in, taking a whiff of that perfume she seemed oto exude from her skin. A deep blue headband pulled back her hair, and you noted the same earrings she’d worn yesterday adorning her. Something pulling you toward them, as if they were keeping a secret. She sat in the front–unexpected for someone so quiet. But perhaps that wasn’t who she really was.

You couldn’t be sure when it came to the students here, there was only one person you could trust, but he–you glanced toward him, a different book today. You wondered what he was reading, the cover didn’t match one from yesterday. You’d done your best to keep track of him, but that wasn’t your job–just an extra precaution because of your history. Were it anyone else, you wouldn’t have taken such an interest.

An hour went by, then came a knock on the door and a man walked in. He wore a white coat and held a clipboard. No one said anything when Avice stood. She kept her head down when she walked out, the professor went back to her lesson as soon as the briefly opened door was shut once more.

Savino glanced at you, eyes a bit wide, but he didn’t look like Savino. His face was schooled into a normal calm mere seconds later and Spencer switched his identity again, but he had been there. You focussed on the notebook below you, grinning from ear to ear, he was there. Any doubt that had resided within you was now gone. He was there.

Students weren’t allowed in the courtyard because of the rain. Savino had taken off as soon as you were released into the halls, thoughts of him floated around the back of your mind as you slipped your way toward the Hospital Wing, toward the south of the school. That was where Avice had to have been taken unless she was in the office across campus. You didn’t think she would have be taken all the way down there, but it wasn’t in your place to assume.

And then there was the other part of your objective. The one assigned especially for you. You had to find a man named J—. That was all the ASIO had given you because that was all J— had given them. He’d been feeding the police information, albeit slowly–but it was more than they ever could have hoped for. 

He was cautious and never showed his face. He was your informant. Though he’d made it obvious he wouldn’t seek you out–and he hadn’t been given the specific details about whom he was meeting. It was your job to figure him out.

There was quiet chatter in the air as you passed other students, some gave you odd looks, the remainders didn’t acknowledge you at all. 

The vibe, you noted, did not seem to shift, everyone had the same energy, and it freaked you out. Why were students sporadically disappearing? Why were there some students that cared to look at you and some that didn't? Why were the staff so weird and why did some of the students seem to know more than what they were letting on?

You couldn’t corner Cairo and force her to tell you, but you could snoop around and keep an open ear on any conversation that rang bells. Whatever was going on here had to be worse than what you’d initially expected. You wondered if he had been able to obtain anything out yet, so far it seemed he’d only been reading books, but you knew Spencer better than that.

The south side of the school was desolate, you’d left the quiet bustling of the rest of the students a few hallways ago. The gloominess didn’t escape you, hospitals weren’t your favorite place, but to have one in a school made from an old castle high up in the mountains where there was no one but the faculty and the students seemed rather…extra.

“What are you doing down here?” A voice halted you. It was loud and stern. 

Your hands started sweating and you swallowed before turning around, it was the same man who’d taken Avice. Perhaps he’d know where she was, “just looking for my friend,” you rubbed your neck and smiled, “you took her out of class early…I thought she might be sick.”

“Avice doesn’t have any friends.” he quickly backtracked when he saw your frown, “What I mean to say–” he cleared his throat, “–no, she is not down here, run along now.” He motioned with his hands.

Your mouth pressed into a tight frown but regardless, you nodded and walked away. That was defensive. 

You weren’t friends, per se, but you were familiar, weren’t you? You were more than strangers to be sure–you weren’t certain how long you were going to be in this place, but you knew you had until summer break, you just hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. Though your need to continue your search for Avice tugged at you, you knew it would be better to let it go…for now at least.

Perhaps she really did do something to get herself in trouble, perhaps she was back in her room, safe and sound and you had nothing to worry about. Yeah, right.

Avice has no friends, what did he mean by that? It was so…random.

You shook your head, pausing when you realized there were no students around you? Did you get lost? You turned around, trying to recall where you’d been coming from, but there were no signs on the walls. Okay, try to recall the building plan in your head. You pictured the fresh paper and the old fonts that swirled in black print. How many times had you looked at the school’s blueprints? You knew this, come on–

Chatter…hushed chatter. 

You pressed yourself against the wall across from the windows and listened, there were no footsteps and the volume of the conversations stayed the same. The gray sky darkened in pigment and the clouds drew together, it looked like it might start thundering. Perhaps classes would be canceled early? 

There was no 21th-century heating system, so being in the classroom at these temperatures could prove hurtful to the students–shut up. Gosh, you couldn’t stand your ramblings. You’d been away from him for too long, from the rest of your team members. You missed them–you weren’t made for things like this.

You felt the tears brimming in your eyes, but they stopped suddenly when a word caught your attention. You followed the sounds of the voices, there were two, maybe three. You rounded a corner and paused…that was the faculty room. You had gotten lost, but now you knew precisely where you were. You reached out your hand as if the blueprints were in front of you–as if you could feel your finger dragging across the old, worn map.

You moved a bit closer and listened. It was quiet and for a second you thought possibly someone had heard you. But a second later, “You know very well why we can’t.”

“This has gone on for long enough–”

“There’s too many of them–

“But if we–

“J— I said no.” You scrambled to hide behind the corner from which you had just come, and a woman–hold on that was your prefessor–Ms. Dowynger. What were they arguing about? You made yourself smaller on instinct when a man placed his hand on the door and stepped out, looking around the hall–he found no one, of course. He was tall–extremely tall. He wore thick black glasses and his hair was clean cut–just shaven, it was black, as he turned, you caught the sight of a nametag.

He was another professor–and not only that–he was your informant! Questions on top of questions piled up in your inventory, unfortunately, that was the first warning bell and class was starting up again, you were supposed to keep your head down, and your profile low–but you would get nowhere if you did that!

Tonight then, your expression grew serious as you found your way around the twisting halls of Genrty Prep, tonight you would make your first move. You rounded the final hall toward 4A, almost colliding with a guy. “Sorry about that,” you sighed. The guy–though he was in your class–took one look at you and walked into the classroom without saying anything.

You couldn’t tell if it was the weather or if there really were students who knew more about the disappearances of their fellow classmates than it seemed at a first glance, but if that were true, why stay quiet? Did their parents not have connections? Were they not the Elite of the Elite? 

You wanted to scrub your brain of all the things that were not making sense–and then there was that oddity–you eyed Savino as he rounded the corner at the other end of the hall. He fixed his metal glasses, looking ever the Russian schoolboy, and nodded at you. What was he doing? Where had he been this whole time?  

Dreadfully, you did not have the privilege of acquiring answers to those types of questions because there were more precedent matters that needed your concerning.

You did not make it to the library that night, nor the night after. Things just never seemed to go your way, and eventually, two days became a week and a half. Savino could always be found somewhere around you, but he too–at times–vanished. 

A few things you’d gathered with mild conversation. A few nights, including the first night you’d arrived, you’d heard a noise, that sounded much like blacksmith melding weapons. At it turned out, the grounds keeper you’d met worked in one of the rooms on the first floor. He never seemed to sleep, it had creeped some of the girls out, though the ones that never spoke to you looked on with an unnerved amount of indifference.

Your body twitched and your eyes shut briefly as the sound of metal against metal found your ears. Your eyes snapped toward Cairo’s bed in brief envy. Darkness was the room and cold was the night, you sat up shivering and tiptoed across the large dorm, careful not to wake the ghosts of the castle.

The white night dress you wore billowed when you pulled the creaky old door open, small lanterns were hanging on the wall that lit a path, and every other one was blown out, creating a dimness to the already heavy atmosphere.

You had two obstacles, one being the dorm lady who circled back and forth throughout the night. You hadn’t seen her, but the girls talked in hushed whispers, and you were pretty well-versed in connecting dots. Reaching out, you felt the wall's eccentric carvings as you floated throughout the West Wing.

The building plans appeared before you in your head again, and as you slipped passed corner after corner, you were finally at the grand stairs. You hadsuccessfully missed the dorm lady! But now you had to get passed the that creepy old grounds keeper–or rather, not draw his attention. For somer reason, he seemed to be working on things all throughout the night every night.

You wondered if perhaps it was a coincidence, but it seemed to bug the girls who spoke to you immensely. No one had acquired a good rest in quite a while. He came to your mind then, as you hunched down, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Has he noticed? A frown fell to your lips, rather sad than curious, that she’s disappeared?

A cold wind rushed passed you when you reached the bottom, the noise was louder now, coming from the right, the library was on the left, so you were sure you wouldn’t have a problem getting in and out. Your silk slippers skated across the marble floor, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you reached the library and the door was ajar.

You felt it again. That cold presnece that seemed to follow you everywhere. You felt like Mary and the gaze to which pressed up against your back was your lamb. You did a onceover of the hall behind you–no one. Your palms made fists and a repetition began.

A slight noise, perhaps the sound of a book falling to the floor or a person bumping into a shelf. Someone was inside. But who?

Your eyes fluttered shut and your chest tightened. Carefully you slipped between the crack created by the door and its frame. The glow of the moonlight on the books and every wooden surface reverberated through you–it was astonishing if you didn’t think about the underlying actions recurring within its walls.

There was no candlelight, but the curtains had been drawn. The wind, you realized. You paced forward and pulled the window shut. There was no sign of her, a sigh escaped you, and your gaze turned downward, where you caught sight of a few scattered papers on one of the large, rectangular tables litterd across the library.

Before approaching it, you scanned the room a second time, assuring yourself that you were alone. The papers were a few different colors, some creamy white, others beige, showing their old age, some in between, and some darker than that. Shaken as you were, your hands found a steady rhythm as they ran across the strewn out papers. A few writing utensils sat a little further down near a large manila folder.

You ignored it and took a seat, keeping your ears open for any sudden noise whilst your eyes passed over word by word as quickly as they could. Oh–this was–and then you found it, a photo, a school photo. It looked recent, it must have been taken, she looked so… there were no words to explain her expression. 

Avice stared the camera down, one side of her hair tucked behind her ear–showing a very clean–very not pierced ear. Where was her earring? And why was she making that face? This wasn’t how you’d remembered her. She didn’t–that wasn’t–those weren’t–you didn’t recognize her, but that had to be her…right? 

You found the student ID number, 590-882 below that showed her country of birth, Belgium, Liège–and below that, her full name. Avice Dierickx.

The paper fell from your hand, its texture bringing it down on the table slightly harder. You jumped out of the seat as the door to the library creaked open fully and murmuring broke through the silent fog. You twisted in the heavy chair and all but but ran into a wall, your first thought was to scream, your second was to stifle that scream, and your third was to fight off your attacker.

The library had gotten smaller somehow, there were two walls all around you and they both seemed within reach. A hand pressed firmly against your mouth and your fingers dug into the arms of the person in front of you, soon, you felt flesh break. A low hiss came from the man’s mouth and he let you go.

You pushed him back, though he caught himself before making a sound, and just as the door to wherever you’d been stolen off to came into view, he threw an arm out against the wall, blocking the way with his body, glaring down at you. “What are you doing?”

Your feet moved backward until you hit a window you hadn’t known was there. There were no curtains, but upon assessing the tapestry-made reality before you, you were glad there wasn’t. “Sorry,” you turned away, “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, that’s obvious.” He huffed, attempting to his mend wounds.

There were three bookshelves along the wall opposite you, but it wasn’t far. If you stuck your hand out and leaned a bit, you’d be able to reach them. The room was more of a long corridor, though it was skinny rather than the ideal wideness of one. Unlike a regular room, it fel like an American hallway. The concrete carvings continued around the visible parts of the wall. 

It felt like a secret room to nowhere, you breathed in the air that slipped through the old rickety paned glass, glancing downward. There were trees, but they looked odd, almost slanted. Your eyes widened and you stumbled back again, away from the window.

“Yeah,” he stepped forward, his chest catching your back. You looked up, watching him look out at the cliff, “it scared me the first time too.”

You wondered who he was this time, the safest answer would be Savino. You loomed over the window again, moving closer toward the shelves of books rather than the carved wall. “What are you doing down here?”

“The same thing you’re doing.” He raised a brow as if it were as clear as the missing light from the sky. It was a new moon tonight, but you thought it looked to be closing in on a waxing crescent, you could see him come to the same conclusion.

Perhaps speaking about your names was too risky, you shouldn’t be anywhere near him, you knew that, but you–“Is your arm okay?” He let you tug his blood-stained sleeve upward to analyze his flesh. His eyes clouded over as he watched you, fighting the urge to yank you further into him and inhale your scent.

He missed everyone, but he missed her especially. He hated the fact that though she was right here, right here in front of him, he couldn’t do anything. This was the assignment they’d both agreed upon, right? Could he really just pretend he didn’t know her?

“Did you see the documents out on the table?” He recognized her face, but everything else seemed off about her. He was starting to lose himself with each passing day, but he knew–he just knew if he solved the mystery and collected enough evidence to prove it, he’d be free from the torment that was every day in this prison. 

But they were alone, so why was she still acting this way?

A logical part of him knew it was her job, this was a job, only a job. He repeated the mantra over and over again. “Yeah, was able to get a few photos.” He waved the cellular device around, watching her mouth drop in a gape.

“They didn’t take it from you?”

“I was smart enough not to let it be seen.” Well, that would’ve been smart–but then again, wouldn’t have been believable enough for your persona.

“Whatever.” she dropped his arm, and spun around, pacing in the tiny space she had, “why would those papers just be on display like that?” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “They’re way too cocky.” 

He had to stay away from her if he wanted this to work. Though he knew a rendezvous would be necessary, he hadn’t expected it to happen this fast. Perhaps when they needed to put what had together and discuss whether or not it was enough, or when they found someone suspicious, though they knew the other was better suited to take them on.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice trickled into his head like hot coffee. Oh, how he missed his sugary sweet addiction, he swore he used to drink it every day, now it felt like a foreign concept, but if he tried hard enough, he could almost taste the liquid. 

He flexed his hands, he was Spencer. That was his name. But right now he had to pretend to be Savino, her classmate–wait! He grabbed her wrist as she tried pulling away, his eyes breaking the illusion he hadn’t realized he’d been creating, it felt like a innate thing now, he didn’t have to try anymore… 

Savino was slowly gaining more power.

The stars shined down on her skin through the window, creating a translucent aura around her, he felt like he was leisurely falling into a grave, one he wouldn’t be able to climb out if he lingered there much longer.

“We can’t do this–” she hissed and it was her, not —, not the Spoiled American Rich Girl, but her, his teammate, his tether to reality. “Savino, it’s dangerous.”

His breath caught, that wasn’t his name. It had only been a month in Russia, but he’d taken on this identity with full transformation. No one had referred to him by his name–his real name–in over a month. It may have seemed like a short period, but in that house in Russia, there were baby photos of him and class photos, he had to walk past the murals of his parents who weren’t his parents, hear people his didn’t recognize tell stories of what he was like when he was younger. And he wasn’t allowed to speak English nor could he reference his old life–it was always Savino.

He wondered if that was how she was conditioned and if so, how she was still as sane as she was beautiful. — frowned, where had that come from? He trained his eyes on her, she did not move, nor did she show any signs of opposing him. He leaned forward, cupping her face into his hands, tears brimmed his eyes but refused to fall, “Say my name.”

Fingers brushed against your mouth–his fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to hold in all the emotions threatening to break free. That wasn’t how — would react, and you couldn’t be anyone but her. You pushed him against the wall, pulling his face up to yours, eyes still on his, glancing back and forth between brown irises. But it’s just us, right?

He waited for her lips, but they never pressed against his, rather tickled his left ear with more love and grace than any kiss could have shown him.

“……Spencer……”

You jumped away from him, but he caught your wrists and tugged you back, careful not to make a sound as footsteps passed the very door that was hiding you. You breathed a sigh of relief, gripping the loose parts of his silk button-up, your hands were shaking, he pulled them into his, squeezing them in a silent comfort.

The muffled voices grew a bit louder as they grew closer to the table with the papers, no doubt. “Is that…”

“Bobefitz.” He whispered, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cold surrounding draft.

“Someone’s with him.” You murmured.

He nodded and hesitantly let you go. You tiptoed toward the beginning of the hall, holding your breath as you did so. You felt your blood pumping throughout your body at a higher rate than normal, you felt for his arm–he was there, you kept still even as he turned his gaze on you, ignoring his small smile, unsure of what it was suppose to mean.

The sky was clearer today so you ate outside, where you first spoke to Avice. Though your lunch looked incredibly appetizing, you were unable to think about anything else since that night in the library four days ago. Those documents that you’d seen, what did they mean? Why were they spread across the table? So far you’d stolen a few essays from the students and had begun your evidence file.

Keeping it under your mattress would be stupid, it’d be the first place they’d look should they find out who you were. You kept it hidden behind a painting on Cairo’s side. Okay, yes, you knew it was wrong, but she would never know, and you were doing this for her more than for you–right?

You had to continuously cnvicne yourself this was all for the students sake. You were in a dangerous position–you were taking a very high risk, but then who wasn’t? This was the career you had chosen, you can’t deter from the path you knew you were meant to walk because you’re scared. An idiot wouldn’t be, you knew that–but at times it just felt so…substantial. 

You’d take the fall if it were ever found, but you were sure that it never would be. Cairo wasn’t the type to go knocking things over, you rolled your neck–freezing up when you felt goosebumps run across your skin. There it was again. That same feeling of being watched.

Where the hell is it coming from? You felt like screaming–it seemed to always happen out of nowhere–you fisted your palms and stood, turning to clean your mess up while you got a good view of the court–there. What was–hey! Where did he think he was going?

You packed and tossed your things in the bin that sat near the fountain, rushing after the grounds keeper. He heard your footsteps through the grass–you could tell because you could hear the sound of your own footfalls. He didn’t turn around though, even when you called out to him.

“Hello?” You tapped his shoulders and jumped when he spun around, his face twisting into a nasty frown. He wore the same blue jumpsuit from the day you arrived, though now that you inspected it, there was no nametag.

“What do you want?” His accent was gruff but subtle, one might miss it if they weren’t listening hard enough, but you recognized it from your first day.

“You were watching me.” You crossed your arms, “I want to know why.”

He shook his head, an undesirable smirk claiming his frown. You hardened your face, feeling your eyes narrow. “It’s not funny. It’s creepy–”

“Look little miss,” he sighed, “I’m not watching you. I apologize if that’s what you thought.” He frowned again, genuine concern crossing his gaze as he held a hand to his heart. No, this wasn’t right. He was lying–but then– “And even if I were,” he said, having you pause and raise a questioning brow, “…it wouldn’t be for the reasons I’m sure your little brain is concocting.”

“Why do you say that?” He began to walk away again, but you chases after him.

He glanced over your shoulder and dropped his head, “You should get going now, little miss.”

“I’m not done talking to you!”

“–yeah, well I am, now leave me alone.” You huffed but stood by as he grabbed a dusty old bag of tools near his feat and walked off into the forest. How irritating. 

You needed to talk to Savino, sooner rather than later, you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to do your job with limited resources, you’d never been in this situation before, the multitude of mock simulations you’d gone through couldn’t even begin to be compared to real life. 

Tapping your finger as you sat in class, you did your best to avoid staring at the back of his head. How. How could you communicate with him without–your thoughts came to a halt because Cairo couldn’t hear you, but she could read and write…but passing notes wouldn’t cut it, you had a better idea.

Cairo went to bed later than usual, studying for a quiz the next day; midterms were still a month away, though you were hoping to finish your job before you had to relive the worst anxiety of your life. 

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, threw the sheets off your legs, and stood, wincing when the door to the room creaked.

Footsteps, not loud, but not quiet sounded right down the hall, it must’ve been the Dorm Lady, damn why was your timing so bad!? Slipping back into your room would make too much noise, she was too close now–a few feet away from turning the corner. You heard the hum the girls in your class had mentioned.

You were cornered–there was nothing but a window on the back wall and the hall your dorm was on led to a dead end. You sped toward the window, looking to hide behind the large dresser below it when the wall to the side of you began moving–you held your breath, confusion wrapped itself around you when the grounds keeper appeared, “Well don’t just stand there!” His shout was hushed.

Less than three seconds later, you heard the Dorm Lady round the corner. Relief fled your system, but before you could rest, the grounds keeper grabbed your hand and attempted to pull you down–the inside of the hall? “What is this place?” You snatched your hand back–a flash of Spencer and the small room in the library appeared in your mind, the memory put you off balance for a moment–you couldn’t think about that now. 

“Who are you?” The small lamp he was holding barely lit enough of the closed space to allow you to see each other. Behind him was pure emptiness.   

Your mouth clamped shut, you glanced away and swallowed, “I’m a student–”

“–No–you’re not,” he shook his head and made a face. 

He stared you down a moment longer, lips pressed together in thought.

Eventually, he sighed, “it doesn’t matter who you are. Why are you here?”

“I snuck out of my–

“Don’t crap on me kid. Whoever you are, if you’re sneaking out of your dorm at night you’re either stupid or up to something. Now which is it.”

Were you sure you could trust him? No. You couldn’t trust anyone. Those were the rules. You’d gone over them several times. It was the first thing you were told when you had received this mission. “I’m not stupid.” Was what you settled for.

He watched you, his chest heaving up and down five times before he nodded, “thought so. You a cop?”

You stood your ground, watching for any reaction that might indicate your cover had been blown. Another sigh, he pulled his hat off, and turned his gaze to the floor before nodding, “Alright.”

A little bit of your heart lifted, but you had to remember. The only person you could trust–other than yourself–was Spencer. “What’s your name?”

He shook his head, “that doesn’t matter.”

“What do I call you then?”

He was quiet for a moment, then a small smile slid across his mouth, “Nonno.”

Well, that was an odd name, but it didn’t make much of a difference. “You going to help me?” He went silent, eyes fixed on the ground he couldn’t possibly see. “Why?”

The whites of his eyes darkened, his gaze grew heavy, and his shadow seemed to enlarge. “It’s gone on long enough.”

He didn’t say more on the subject, but you had to ask. You had a sinking feeling it was worse than anything you could’ve imagined. But this was crazy–but then again, people do crazy things. He looked uncomfortable–he didn’t have to elaborate much, you both knew what he meant in the end.

A moment of silence passed as he led you through the hidden passages within the school, “Where’s Avice, the girl that disappeared from my class?” You still kept a safe distance. This was stupid. You shouldn’t have followed him without a weapon, he could turn on you at any moment. Perhaps he was leading you into a trap, you couldn’t be sure. But it was worth the risk, was it not?

These were the things you had to decide for yourself Hotch wasn’t here to tell you what the best course of action was–Rossi wasn’t here to school you the history of what, why, and how.

Nonno huffed and halted his walking. His ears perked up, when he heard nothing but the sound of shutters swinging back and forth, he continued. “The Hospital Wing.”

“But–I already–

“She wasn’t there before. She’s there now. She’s sedated.” He shifted the lamp to his other hand, coming to another stop. You kept silent, trying to control your breathing. He glanced back at you and locomoted to the side, “Look.”

Hesitantly, you stepped forward and peeped through the small hole. You swallowed a gasp, watching the doctor–the ghostly one from before–looming over a bed. Your view was crooked, you must’ve been in the wall nearest the door. You waited for him to move, but he didn’t–but you didn’t need him to because you caught a lock of blonde hair spilling over the side of the bed and you knew.

“Where was she before? When she wasn’t here?” You smelled her…the perfume was strong, even when you were feet away. Your eyes bagan watering at the smell, though you couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t unpleasant, it just…had you in tears.

“The dungeons,” came his gruss reply, “below the school.”

You slowed your breathing in an attempt to calm yourself. How–you didn’t want to even think about the possibilities. “How is it accessed?”

Nonno shifted uncomfortably, you spun around, eyes red-rimmed. His heart sunk knowing the things he’d been keeping–though he hand’t been apart of it, he’d done his fair share in ignoring the comings of goings throughout the years. He knew it was wrong, so he opened his mouth.        

You accepted the information, gulping down the bile that had built up. You fixed your gaze back on the peephole, but made no move to look through it again. “They’re being drugged, but why?”

Nonno’s face contorted, but now was’t time for bullshitting. Where the hell were these kids going? Voices echoed throughout and filtered in through the little cracks of the wall. His face dropped, “It’s time to go.” He began pulling on your wrist, but you still had questions.

A glare passed over you face and you pulled back, “Why? What don’t you want me to see?” 

He slapped a hand over your mouth, his eyes wild, but not like a predators. He looked almost…fearful…“Shhhh.”

Slowly, he released you, allowing you to head back to the peephole, there was a group of men you didn’t recognize–but one you did. Headmaster Bobefitz. “Oh my God.” your voice shuddered and you stumbled back, “They’re marketing them?”

His grim frown told you more than that. You didn’t question why he took so long to do something. You didn’t shame or lecture him. It wasn’t your place, to be sure you found it madness how a person could sit back and watch it happen to innocent children, but there was a part of you that feared his answer.

“What happens after it’s over?” A heavy sigh fell from the old mans lips; you were getting tired of hearing them. “What happens–”

“–I don’t know, I…I really don’t know. They take them down to the dungeons again and…”

You could conclude the end of his sentence on your own, you toppled over, holding a hand to your mouth, there was that french perfume–growing stronger somehow as it mixed with the scent of your vomit.

𝟷𝟻; 𝙲𝙳; 𝙻

You left the note in the machine before heading back to bed. Nonno had set up a typewriter in the hidden room Savino had found. He confirmed no one ever entered or left that room other than, “your friend”.

Telling Nonno about Savino was a higher risk than you’d ever intended on taking. But you were ready. You were ready to go home. 

There was one more thing you had to check off your list. With Nonno’s testimony, the evidence from the essays the students had written–to which you could barely look at–you had to get to J—.

He had access to the faculty room–you needed to get inside that room, but more than that–you had to convince him to testify against the school. That was the incomplete part. If you could only get a second alone with him–if you could convince him–you could and you would. You had no doubt….

……but what if I can’t?

Your eyes squeezed shut and you smacked your hands against your cheeks–this was no time for hesitation. You had coworkers counting on you–mothers and fathers [even if they were oblivious]. These students too–God, they were just children, you couldn't even begin to imagine.

A tear slipped from you eyes. You wiped it with your bedsheet.

Nonno would be able to get you a moment alone with J—, but it would take a bit of time, you had to share with Spencer what you knew before then so he’d be on the same page. Nonno explained he had seen Savino slipping through the secret passages the day you’d arrived.

The old grounds keeper had his suspicions then, but had kept them to himself and avoided Savino the best he could. “He’s been in that room every day around noon, he spends a lot of time in there.” Was what he’d said as he had led you back to your room. You hoped that Savino would see the typewriter, know it wasn’t meant to be there, approach it, and understand the letter was from you.

You’d shoved it between Dostoyevsky and Wordsworth, which you knew would catch his attention as he had seemed to have organized the books back there by author, though you knew it had been Spencer, not Savino that had been compelled to sort them that way–you were anticipating the old philosophers would draw him out once more. 

He’d be okay, you were sure…you had to be sure.

Nonno was stalking J—, learning his patterns in order to find the right time you could speak with him alone and unnoticed. You weren’t sure how long it would take, it’d only been last night that you’d found the secret looming over this boarding school. There’d been 12 students over the course of a decade. How did parents not notice? The townspeople? The staff? Who was all in on it?

That’s what you had to figure out. The lunch bell rang and you wondered if the rest of the day would be this agonizing. Avice was counting on you–every student seemed to have a target on their backs. You were sure there was more to the story, multiple students didn’t avoid your eyes because a student they barely knew disappeared–there was something deeper rotting within this place.

Sweating seemed impossible at the altitudes you were at, and yet even as the sky was a cold blue, here you were wiping sweat from your forehead. You had a sick feeling watching your professor. She knew something, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think they all did. 

There was something about the uneasiness of the day. You wondered what happened. Just last night, you were exhilarated, you felt like the end was approaching. When this was all over, you could give everyone peace, you could give Avice peace. You hated the fact that you had to leave her, but Nonno had assured you they wouldn’t settle so easily.

Though it sounded horrible, Bobefitz being a money-hungry monster meant Avice had a few more days. That was all you needed. You would save her. You would. 

Your eyes grew heavy and you shut them for a few seconds, inhaling the ghost of a scent. Your eyes opened, she was there and then she wasn’t. Your stomach dropped to your feet when the warning bell rang. How had an hour passed already? You felt like you were losing time, and maybe you were.

The clocks seemed to move differently in this place, where was the White Rabbit when you needed him?

Only when his hands touched her did he relax. He felt like he could breathe again. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. Scared of his own mind, scared that his mind wouldn’t be his when he got out of here. He didn’t want to think about that. Nevertheless, when she was in front of him–and oh so tangible, he was safe.

“I have something to say,” she pulled away. She looked…Spencer couldn’t find the words. But he knew he was Spencer. Whenever he looked at her, he was taken back to that night–he felt the bristling of her voice tickle his ears, the way she whispered his name grounded him.

“You’ve found something?”

“More than something, I think you should see it for yourself.” She looked behind him, and when he heard the scraping he blocked her with his body. It was the grounds keeper. Shit was he in on it too? Of course. Of course, they’d be found out now. Spencer didn’t know how he’d proceed, but he knew it was them or this guy, and he wouldn’t let it be her. Not her.

“Spencer,” his body sagged at the way his name rolled off her tongue, it was soft and soothing; understanding. She tugged at his arm slightly and said, “It’s okay, he’s with me.”

Spencer wasn’t prepared for what he was about to see, nor for what he was about to be told. He’d successfully gathered the names of each staff member and had sorted them into three groups. The Oblivious, The Knowing, and The Disgusting Pieces of Trash That Committed. He hated knowing the oblivious had the least amount of names on it, at just three.

Spencer didn’t know how many students had been sexually assaulted and he didn’t know how many other students knew about the assaults. What he did know was that no amount of therapy would allow these kids to forget what happened here, no amount of therapy would give back the fours years they spent–and the worst part was that ther was more out there. Students from the past years–over ten years. 

And now there was a sex trafficking ring on top of the sexual assault these students have had to edure becasue the adults that were suppose to be protecting them looked the other way. It was leading him to question if what he did at the BAU was really ever making a difference.

It was, to be sure it was. That was a stupid question, the logical part of him said, but it’s never dumb to ask that question, is it? The other part pressed. Jesus, what was becoming of his world?

A tremendous number of trauma. He was a grown adult and even he had trouble sleeping at night knowing everything he did, he couldn’t imagine going through puberty knowing everything and knowing there was nothing you could do–not to mention having absent parents that dropped a wad of cash in your bank account every week in turn for their presence.

No, Spencer could not imagine that at all. A shiver curled up his spine. He was cold, she was in her nightdress so she must be cold as well. But everything would be over soon. He believed that. He had to.

You had grown accustomed to walking down darkened hallways. You no longer waited for ghosts to jump out at you because ghosts were not the scariest thing that tormented this place, unfortunately, the terror showed itself in people that were very much alive.

“Stay quiet.”

“I will.”

“Watch yourself.”

“I will!” He hushed you even though you didn’t think you were that loud.

“And be careful.”

You huffed, but you knew he was only worried. He shouldn’t be though, this was your job, you wanted to be here–this is exactly what you were meant to be doing, and as the key passed between his hand to yours, you knew you wouldn’t have traded this life for anything else.

You stepped out from the hidden passage and swept toward the large wooden door. The key went it and upon slightly twisting it, clicked. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest with how loud the noise was. It bounced off the walls and you were sure someone who catch you–but the hall remained empty. 

You knew Nonno was watching you and that you had nothing to worry about, but for some reason, his stare still sent a shiver up your spine. You pushed and the barrier gave way, though dark. You held up the lamp Nonno let you borrow, here it was. The faculty room.

And there in the corner, waiting in the dark, was J—.

You slowed the speed of the door shutting, allowing it a light thud before spinning around and acknowledging him. “Agent, I’ce been expecting you,” he pushed up his glasses, and shoved the papers he seemed to be grading away, “though to be honest…I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“Why?” You raised a brow.

“Just,” he waved a hand and shrugged, “I believe we have mor pressing matters to discuss.”

“Yes,” you licked your lips, noting the filing cabinets that stood against the back wall behind him. You moved forward and settled the lamp on a nearby table. “Would you like to begin?”

Your informant shifted, and his hand bended, almost like a twitch. “I want to be clear on something,” his voice was low and croaky, as if he hadn’t slept in days. “I want ful protectin. Before anything, I am a schoolteacher. I took on this job without knowing….it, and I’ve been doing my best to keep a low profile while simultaneously feeding the government information.” He crossed his hands, “I want to know when this is all over, I won’t be arrested.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and scoffed. This felt familiar. Very familiar. “I’m in no position to assure such a thing, but what I can tell you is that the head of the ASIO has no ill intent toward you–ysomeone should have told you this already, but,” you leaned for ward, glancing at the old candle hlder near him, he had little wax left, “so far, you have done everything the ASIO has asked of you–you’ll be in protective custody for a while when this is over”

“Good,” he pushed his glasses up again, though they would undoubtedly slide down the bridge of his nose continuously during your conversatin. “Then,” he slid his chair out and spun, running a hand up and dow the drawers until he found th eone he was looking for, “you should take a look at these.

You’d promised to keep this part of your mission a secret, but right now you were really wishing you had Spencer’s reading abilities. You sifted through each file, reading through the reports. 

You wondered just many student complaints had been filed about it. “Huh,” your eyes scanned over names you both recognized and didn’t. “These have all been ignored, I assume?”

“These are all relatively old, to be honest. I think all the students know by now they’re useless.”

“How many do you think…would be willing to testify?” You leaned back.

J— sighed, and leaned agains this chair. His eyes, though flickering in the candle light, seemed dimmer than they did suring the day. Perhaps because this was the real J—, he was a narcissist, but he cared about his job. He chose this career for a reason, maybe something signofcant happened with a teacher in his childhood–you forced yoru mind to pause. Profiling him wasn’t something you could add into your evidence file. 

“I don’t know,” he finally said. He was young, possible your age, but the bags under his eyes added more than a few years. You knew it’d be a big ask, but perhaps some of them would be willing–hold on, what a was that? You ran your fingers back through the list of names again–her name was pretty broad, and yes,this was an international boarding school, but something told you this was her. “What is it?” He leaned forward, eyeing the parchment in your hands.

You bit your lip–you wouldn’t put it past these animals–but would someone really…? It would explain that way she acted when you began to ask too personal questions. You felt the brimming of tears, you had to keep your cool, but as you tugged out the file, your chest shuddered. “I know this person.”

What did this mean? You read over the document again, Oh Cairo… your heart felt for her. You recognized the girl sh’de named; Hadee had been the 10th student to go missing, that was just last year. The being pulled out during classes lined up with what happened to Avice.

You gripped the form, you could use this as evidence. You set it down before you made a dent larger dent in the paper. You would be the one to explain to Cairo what happened. You would–you would–breath in. Breath out. Come on, you can do this. 

Water streamed down your puffy cheeks. You wanted to be home. You wanted to go home. You needed–you needed arms. His arms. You needed someone–not just anyone–you needed him to hold you. Now more than anything you needed to keep it together.

Keep it together.

Your eyes closed for a moment. When they fluttered open again, you wiped the remaining water with your the sleeve of your nightdress and got back to work, ignoring J—’s stare as he pretended to continue grading papers.

Back and forth, you eyes ran up and down through the paper trail–it was amazing what you could do when your motivation was strong enough. You knew Spencer wanted to go home. You could see it in his tired eyes. Nonno’s too. You didn’t know his story, though there was this curiosity in you that wondered if there would come a time where you ever would. Regardless, you could see the burden of guilt weighing down on his shoulders, figuring it must have been a long since he’d smiled.

He didn’t need to go to prison, he was already in one. He had been for the last decade. You wouldn’t be the one to ask, but you knew he’d have to explain why he kept quiet all these years to someone.

You supposed it didn’t matter the age, anyone would lose their mind if they stayed in this gloom long enough. You knew you were tipping over the edge with every passing day. You couldn’t imagine a year living in this place let alone ten. 

You couldn’t read through all of them, but you grabbed every single one and added it to the growing pile beside the lamp on the table. Soon, your sight grew weak and your yawns were no longer just an actions to pass the time.

You stood, stretched, and cleared the mess you’d made. Someone was bound to notice the number of missing reports sooner or later, but you were putting your faith in the ASIO that they’d storm the place before then. Your job was supposed to get out–not wait for their signal, but it was starting to feel like that would be harder. Only one of you could leave. That would keep suspicions low. 

You slide the chair you’d been using back in and grabbed the lamp–the candle was almost completely gone, “done?” J— raised a brow.

“Will you testify?” The stack of papers you held in a death grip hit your chest as you pusehd your chair in.

“Do I have a choice?” It seemed like he ha tried ot make a joke, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes. J— cleared his throat, shifting under your piercing gaze,“yeah, yeah I’ll testify.”

“Then, yes, I am.” You walked to the door, pressed your ears against it, and listened. 

When you deemed it safe, you held in a breath and pulled it open, wincing at the loud squeak. You held your cheeks between you teeth and forced yourself into the cloud of darkness.

“Nonno?” Your breath blew out like fire. The floors were ice-cold, you could feel it through your slippers. You scanned the hall, looking for him behind the walls. As the silence grew, so did the pace of your heartbeat. 

Then, a slight shift in the concret wall and there Nonna stood. Relief hit you like a wave and you began breathing regularly again. “Come on,” he waved a hand.

A weary smile tugged your mouth up slightly as you moved forward. Your body went rigide, your eyes went wide, and you shivered. Slowly, you craned your neck, but there was no one. You turned back to Nonno. He was in front of you. He wasn’t hiding, you could see him as clear as the light in your lamp would allow you. So who? Who in the hell was watching you? If it wasn’t Nonno, then who?

Seconds later you found yourself once again hidden behind the walls of the school. “What took you so long?” You shouted in a whisper, your body jolted as if you had been shocked, the cold was getting to you.

“Nevermind that,” he waved a hand, “let’s get you back before anyone notices you’re gone.” He frowned at your disheveled frame, “let me see that.” He grabbed the lamp from you, and you–now free–ran your right hand up and down your left shoulder, trying to create some sort of friction.

Nonno led you through the halls, but you stopped him before he left you near your dorm. “There’s one last thing I have to ask you to do.”

He took a step back, evaluated you, and sighed, “What is it?”

A month and a half. A month and a half you had been in this school. You had learned the comings and goings of the staff, of the students, you had adapted–had become part of the system. You were in the clear–but just in case–just as a counter mesaasure–

No, you shouldn’t think about that because it only mattered if you were caught. And you weren’t. You hadn’t been, today was the day. Tonight you would call the number J— used and he would deliver the message. He was smart–smarter than you’d imagine. You’d seen the cryptic messages he’d elft the ASIO before leaving to begin your training. It was ovr–almsot–it was so close you could practically feel the sweet victory in the air.

Avice would be saved, Nonno had assured you she was still in the Hospital Wing, she was still there–she hadn’t been auctioned off yet. You thought had water brimming the corenrs of your eyes, but you blinked them back.

You thought of the countermeasure you had instilled last night. And the second favor you had asked of Nonno. At first it was just one, but as you were setting up the first favor, a thought occurred to you, and it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Spinning a black pen in your fingers, you bit the inside of you cheek and leaned on your right palm, glancing out the window to your left. Bolted, as always. You noted your reflection, it looked somehward warped, you shivereda nd leaned forward, analyzing the mirror just a bit harder. 

The sun was a bit more noticeable today, but the air was just as cold. You blew a thin lock of hair out of your face and shifted in your seat. Was that? No, you must be seeing things. A sigh fell from your lips and you let you relaxed a bit more. Crossing one leg over the other and letting your eyes fall shut, everything almost felt like a dream. You couldn’t have asked for anything better last night. Nothing had gone wrong, it seemed almost too easy–though you were doing your best to act as casual as you could, it was hard. Because everything had gone so right, you felt a bit lighter.

It sounded wrong, knowing Avice was being drugged hourly and she must have gone through so much to get to that point–you were hoping she didn’t remember any of it when everything was over. You didn’t know if it’d be better to remember or to forget it all–so maybe you weren’t the best person to be suggesting or giving advice on the matter.

Your back straightened and your hands fell onto your desk when that guy in the white labcoat–the one who had whisked Avice away, appeared in the doorway of the classroom. Savino’s eyes found yours briefly, but before anyone else could notice, he diverted them. “Miss —,” the guy called–you hadn’t deduced whether or not he was an actual doctor, regardless, his licence would definitely be revoked withing the coming hours. His eyes landed on your professors, then yours, “please come with me.”

Fear. 

You stomach dropped, you felt sick. Not a single student would look at you. Nonno hadn’t spoken much about what happened when the students were first taken, he’d actually neglected to say much at all. And you were partially thankful because you didn’t think you could handle knowing whilst mere probabilities away from being their next target.

You stood numbly, your chair scraping the floor extra loudly–or maybe that was all just in your head. Your hands grew clammy and your movements were rigid as you walked. “What is this for?” You forced out, though you knew it was better not to draw any more attention to yourself than already had been. 

The doctor eyed your person, his thin, pink lips were cracked, they pursed together in a way that looked like it hurt. “The Headmaster has requested your presence.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, chilling the rest of your body. Every step forward took effort. Savino caught your gaze when you passed his desk, and almost instinctively, grabbed your hand. Squeeze squeeze Spencer squeeze squeeze I’m scared squeeze squeeze what do I do?

“Now, please.” The unnamed man called briskly, his voice wavering on annoyance. 

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but before you could stop yourself, you shook your head and snatched your hand away, following the man out. This wasn’t his battle, and even if it were–you loved him too much to throw him under the bus. Underneath all that Russian coolness, he was still your nerdy, beloved coworker.

Gone. Gone. She was gone. She was gone and he had let her go. He should have done something. Why did he just watch? Why didn’t he stand? Why? Why? Why?

He had to get out. Spencer bit the fingernail attached to his thumb. He had to escape. He had to alert everyone on the outside. He had to do it now.

They knew. They knew! Spencer wasn’t dumb. By standing up–by doing anything other than letting her go, he too would have been caught. The operation would be compromised and perhaps neither him nor her made it out of this alive. It was as clear as to why he had stayed silent. That didn’t make it any less bearable. If he lost her. If he lost her–Spencer would–he would……what would he do?

Nothing. He couldn’t possibly know what he’d do because he couldn’t imagine ever possibly losing her. She was him teamate, his literal partner in crime–or rather in fighting crime. That sounded studpid. Why couldn’t a single coherent though come form him?

He needed to focus on getting her back. Right? He was useless without her because she had information the Australian government needed. She had evidence he didn’t, half assed evidence whouldn’t fly in court, would it? He stopped, his eyes tracing over the type writer, there was another note. Another letter. He’d burned the previous one in his dormroom’s built in fireplace.

He followd the words with his eyes as he stepped closer. The page ripped neatly, making a crisp sound Savino in that moment couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy.

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟻𝟶/𝟻𝟶 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜. 𝙾𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛’𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗. 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍? 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍. 𝙳𝚛. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍.

It wasn’t written. But he felt like she wanted to write more, to say more. And if he was right, then she was more selfless than he could ever be.

He allowed himself a few seconds, when the warning bell rang, he took a breath, wiped his tears, and folded the piece of stock paper, tucking it into the pocket on his blazer.

You stepped into the school’s office. It felt like decades had past since the last you’d been here. The room was as sullen as you had remembered it. The man in the white labcoat stood with you in the suffocating room until the doors behind the desk opened and Headmaster Bobefitz came into view.

His name tasted sour even in to the voice in your mind, you held in the urge to make a cross face. His smile was shuddersome, you wanted to run–to hide–to be as far away from this man as possible. The man in the labcoat began to walk away and you turned, almost as if to ask him to stay.

You didn’t and when you face Bobefitz again, he had his eyebrows raised in mockery. They seemed to say, go ahead. You found your eyes narrowing and though sweaty, your palms compacted into fists. “Don’t make that face,” his voice trickled through the closed area, low and haughty.

It was disgusting.

“Follow me, let’s talk.”

You quivered, held your breath, and put one foot in front of the other. It didn’t matter that you were trapped. Spencer had everything he needed to call, and that was enough for you. If it had to come down to you or them, well, you had chosen the second option the instant you had taken on this operation–you couldn’t walk away now, just because you were afraid. He would understand, wouldn’t he?

A large desktop computer sat on a desk in the dark corner of the tight room. It was smaller that the one outside, he was closer now, but he took his seat across from you and motioned for you to sit. The room was decorated with flags of over 30 countries, a picute frame sat facing away from you.

You held your arms and hunched your shoulders, “you wanted to see me?”

You jerked at the way he stared at you. Pure evilness. His balding head might have been shiny in another sort of light, his black eyes peirced you. There was nothing there. No soul. It wasn’t human–whatever sat across from you. “I want to show you something.” His voice sounded sticky, dirty, and cruel.

His clammy, pale skin seemed to seep into the wall behind him, he melted in his chair, hands on his beer belly as he watched you analyze the screen. Horror dawned on you–image after image. In your room, in the halls, in the classroom, in the hospital wing and the faculty office–a close up of you leaning toward the camera unknowing–oh my God…this picture had been taken just moments prior.

Panic hit you from every angle as one photo in particular caught your eye. Your fingers flexed open and closed several times while your eyes ran through every detail.

There you were–talking to Nonno outside of the gates. The date read 02/16/07. It hadn’t been Nonno watching you, it had been Bobefitz. He had cameras all over the school…

He’d been watching you since the very beginning.

His hand connected with a line of books. A few of them came off the shelves. His angry eyes darkened at the sight of the files tucked safely behind Notes from Underground, the book that had led him to this secret room. He didn’t have time to wait until tonight. He had no idea what they were doing to her and even if he did, he was useless. God, why did he have to be so weak?

The grounds keeper–whose name he still didn’t know–appeared on the other end of the hall near the door. “We need to get a message to your friends.”

“You think I don’t know that?” His eyes narrowed as he came face to face with the old man. His average height gave Spencer somewhat of an advantage, and as he towered over the old man–a thought occurred to him– “If I find out you had anything to do with–

“I didn’t.” The man held up a hand, “you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Don’t tell me to…fucking calm down!” His voice cracked–Spencer never cursed–but what if he wasn’t Spencer? What if he was Savino? With her, he knew who he was–he knew what was real and what wasn’t. But she wasn’t here, and he couldn’t remember what he had to do again–

Savino’s back hit the shelves behind him, he’d been shoved– “You need to get yourself together. You want to save these kids? You want to save the little miss?” His accent sounded slavic–no that was Savino’s own accent. Spencer held his head, a grimace colliding with his face as he moved to a crouch.

“I know who I am,” he whispered, “I know who I am.”

The grounds keeper sighed–Savino looked up, his brain was splitting in two. It was safer to default back to Savino. It was more comfortable to not fight back–but he had a mission. He couldn’t just let hismelf go–he couldn’t because he had a job to do–and Savino didn’t care about those things–that wasn’t in his conscience.

—

The name reverberated in his head. But was it her name or the fake name she had been given? They were the same person, right? He didn’t know–he didn’t–

—

That was Savino’s priority. He didn’t care about anyone or anything else. But she would never forgive him if–dangerous. This was a dangerous situation–a dangerous game of reality. 

“Get me ug–” He pushed himself onto his feet. It hurt–it hurt mentally. He wanted to sleep; he didn’t.

“A phone?” His head tilted upward, standing behind the old grounds keeper was the  frame of a short man pushing up glasses too thick for his face.

The unnamed man stepped further into the room, sliding out a mobile, and clicking a few buttons on the device. It rang through the small hall-made room,a nd eventually a click. The other line had picked up. The man nodded, a grim expression floating across his face, “one’s been taken, the other looks like he’s losing his shit You shouldn’t have sent them if they weren’t ready.”

“We didn’t have that privilege.” He stood, not knowing who the man in front of him was, only knowing he didn’t like him enough to fully trust him. The final bell for classes rang. He didn’t care, all that mattered was getting the evidence into safe hands. He had multiple battles ahead of him and he’d have to fight them all while simultaneously not knowing who the real him was.

The halls of Genry looked odd. Everything was blurring–or perhaps that was just your vision–the windows were bolted as usual–but something else caught your eyes. You took pause at the chains hanging from each lock. Those weren’t there before–if they had been you would have no doubt noticed them.

“Where are you taking me?” These weren’t the normall halls–they were replicas. “Get off of me!” You shook whomever held your hands behind your back.

Your jaw mentally hit the floor and you stumbled backward, “d…dad?”

“Hello, sweety,” tears pooled in your eyes, what was going on? Why–

“Oh, dad…” he opened his arms and motioned you forward with is hands. You felt his hug before you took your first step.

You took another and another–halting just before his hands wrapped around you. A flash of dark brown down the halls–but behind your father weren’t the halls you’d just been walking down–it was a large, floor to ceiling mirror that extended the entire space behind him like an icicle made from magic.

Your body jerked to the side–though when you turned around no one was there, you gazed around once more, but your father was gone. You were alone–you were all alone. The sky outside the bolted and chain-linked windows grew dark, clouding your vision once more. You stumbled and grabbed onto the chains to keep yourself from falling. 

You were falling–the building was falling, it was slanted it–where were you?

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You blinked and everything returned to you. Your father was dead–had been for about six years now. You were dreaming–you had been dreaming. None of it was real. Then what is. You felt tears spring to your face. This was madness–you were delving into it every second you were here. 

None of it is real.

You hoped Spencer had gotten your letter. You hoped he was out of here, perhaps the ASIO were deploying their teams now–readying to take the school.

“Well, you’re a bit older than the usual ones.”

“Can we sell her?”

“Oh, I think you’ll be alright.” The beady eyed doctor in his stupid white lab coat fixed his only working eye that hid behind a monocle on you, “there’s bound to be a buyer for everything–though you could probably pass her off as younger, if you wanted.”

“You bastards,” you seethed, snatching your wrist to your stomach–you head turned–it was chained. The space around you was dark–darker than normal, there were no white carvings in the walls–no it was all–it was gray–deep, ugly grays filled your vision.

A cynical laugh echoaed throughout the room–a few followed. You tried to get a good look them all, you might have to identity them later. You better enjoy this. You’ll rot in prison for the rest of your lives when the system is through with you. You jerked the handcuffs and beared your teeth, I’ll make sure of it.

An hour before classes ended, Savino heard the sirens. The moutains were an hour drive from the closest town–the school was about 30 minutes up hill–frankly he was surprised they had gotten here so quickly. Surprised–and grateful.

“So, how does this work?” The old man asked gruffly, “I’ve heard them through the walls, they’re looking for a missing student.”

“Yeah,” he wasn’t dumb. He knew he should have gone back to class to keep from drawing attention to himself, but Savino didn’t need to care about suck things. Some part–maybe both of them–knew that if he went back to class he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had holed up in this room.

But then, that would mean Savino and Spencer both knew that Spencer was the real him, right? Because why else would they both know that it was better to stay hidden? “Are you crying?”

“No,” but his voice wavered and he felt hot despite the weather.

He felt he should have someone–someone other than her–someone on the outside. Someone he could turn to–but he couldn’t–“Ugh,” he groaned.

“Are you sick, what–what’s wrong with you?” Old Man leaned over him and helped him sit upwards. “Oh, Son…that’s not good…” he shook his head and he didn’t know what the old man was referring to.

“Wait,” Savino turned his head to the right, toward the door, “do you hear that?”

“Is it them? Is it safe?”

He stumbled toward the door, “let’s go through the walls just to be sure…”

Old Man hesitated for just a second, then with tight lips, nodded, “come on then.”

The grimy walls were of no concern to Savino–though he’d been in much nicer conditions, they served a more significant purpose now–they hid him.

Footsteps–several sets of them–then a voice–a voice he thought he recognized. “Stop–” he whispered, holding out a hand.

“What–what is it, do you know them?”

“I don’t know…” he pressed his ear against the the wall, then, slowly, lifted a piece of concrete that had seemed to have been cracked ages ago.

Black gelled hair, a menacing frown, and set eyes–where did he knew that face from? What ws his name? A woman walked beside him, she looked familiar. Short cropped hair, ghostly pale skin, and high cheekbones–he knew these people.

Or did Spencer know these people?

Who was the real version of himself? Savino. He always resorted back to Savino because that was the safest option…right?

“Do you knw them?” Came the question again, but he didn’t know how to respond to that. Did he know these people? Or did he only think he knew these people. He needed–he needed her. He needed to find her. She would know–she could tell him. He wasn’t confused when he was with her…

But who was she again? A schoolmate? When did he first meet her? She had two names. Two names…why… Why could he not figure this out on his own? His mind was playing tricks on him, why couldn’t he trust his own mind?

“Spencer…”

Savino glanced up–catching Old Man’s eyes, “how do you know that name?”

“She…she told me. Last night–before everything…she asked me…for two favors…” Savino felt worlds pass through him.

“I’m Spencer… Spencer.” he whispered to himself. His hands pushed off the concrete and he held out his hands, “give them to me.” This wasn’t how it was suppose to go, but neither of them were suppose to get caught either. That wasn’t the plan and neither was this, but fuck the plan.

Spencer stepped out from a secret passage down the hall of the main wing near the office, he turned back to the unknown man and waved. The walls casted over him and he was gone just like that. 

He stepped into the office, it was quiet at first, but then all three people turned their heads to look at him, he only looked at two, “do it now.”

The man glacned at the stack in his hands, the woman radioed someone, turned around, and handcuffed the baffled man–who was evidently not the headmaster. Where was that son of a bitch?

“Spencer,” the serious man stepped in front of him, but Spencer didn’t care. He shoved the stack of files into his bosses hand and stopped Emily.

“Where is she?”

“I–I don’t–

“I’m going to ask you one more time–

“Reid–”

“Hotch–” Spencer glanced back at his boss, he didn’t know what he looked like, but he assumed a bit messy; he was sure there were bags under his eyes, and even so he didn’t know how deep they went. “Where is she?”

The doctor that had taken her out of class earlier–Spencer had seen around the halls and he he knew by his nametage–this man had been sorted under The Scumbags Involved–or whatever he’d labled it. The doctor lowered his head, “they had her takne to the dungeon–”

“That’s where they keep them before the bidding,” he said, more to himself now–his mind was running at a million miles per second, a small smile fell to his face. He wass starting to feel just a bit like his old self–though he knew he’d been altered in some way.

Spencer he spun around, “REID!” Hotch called after him, but Hotch could go fuck himslef if he thought he’d leave her alone any longer.

Without a gun. Without a knife or any other sort of weapon, Spencer booked it throughout the school; the old Spencer never would have though tot do something so stupid, but times changed a person, so perhaps he now would under the right circumstances.

The ogling you could handle, the messing with your head wasn’t ideal, but you were still okay. You knew who you were–where you were–and that a rescue team would burst through those door in any moment now.

But the not knowing was killing you. You had smelled her perfume. You could just make it out–and then a second later you had seen a flash of blonde hair–all wrinkled, like it had been in the same position for days–it was dry, but a brush would fix it–that’s what you hoped. 

Your first concern was why was she down here? To be sure, your deduction was spot on–you were in the dungeons beneath this wreck of a school.

The second was where she’d vanished off to. Where had they taken her? She was there and then she wasn’t– gone, just like that. That’s when your crying began. You couldn’t stop it. Where–was she? You couldn’t have been too late. You couldn’t have been–

That pig sat at your bedside any chance he got. When the doctor wasn’t around making sure your blood preassure was stable and the right amount of doses of whatever drug they were giving you were keeping you in your bed. You were sure it was diazepam, otherwise known as valium–a date rape drug.

Though you were afraid it could be something much more worse like flunitrazepam–being motionless left you with nothing to do but think–you felt like your mind had been running for ages. The thoughts that coerced through your mind weren’t pretty, paired with the only smell being rot and Bobefitz–you wanted nothing more than to breathe in Avice perfume. You didn’t have the mental capacity in the state you were in to think of something happy–to take yourself somewhere else. But more than that, you had to remember her. 

They would need to find her…wherever they’d taken her.

You didn’t know how long ago you’d seen her, but you couldn’t smell her fragernece anymore and the day was sure to be getting later and later. It was fire to your skin, like you snorted chili sauce. Your mouth watered–when was the last time you’d had a drink of water–God you were starting to lose it.

You closed your eyes-but only for a second, you assured yourself. Cold fingertips padded across you collarbone. You shuddered, your eyes fluttered open to a nightmare. Bobefitz’ face hovered above yours, his breath had your breakfast receding and his beady black eyes had that same souless suggestion that felt like there were bugs beneath your skin, itching at your flesh to get out.

“I suppose they wouldn’t really know anything if I were to–” he cut himself off, laughing. A sinister thing you wantes no part in. Your chest huffed as his eyes landed back on yours, “I mean, when he’s done with you, you’ll join the others anyway.” He leaned forward, his belly folding in roles you couldn’t wince away from, “tell me, my dear, did you know those missing studnets you were investigating never actually left the premises?” 

Whimpers fell through the cell they’d placed you in right as his thick, stubby fingers slid over the buttons on your shirt. A noise sounded somehwere down the hall–someone apparated in the entrance of the chamber and Bobefitz’ head snapped upward. 

You couldn’t see who it was, but sooner rather than later the tubes attaching to you were ripped out and the cell was overtaken. Someone lifted you up from the bedyour eyes scanned the room, though slow and docile [you were still incapicated]. 

There was no one else–Avice wasn’t–“Youhaveto–”you wheezed, “–gettohershe–” another wheeze.

“Whoah whoah–slow down,” his breath coated your neck as he move you into his arms. Your words were sloppy–almost like you were drunk.

“Find…her–” 

Spencer’s eyes never left yours as he carried you up the stairwells and through the halls of the castle. There were men in black, guns pulled out in front of them. Further down the hall you started to gain movement in lower your joints, it wasn’t anything like a miracle–but it was something. You could hear the comotion of classes being stopped, you tried to remember everything in order to put things in order for yourself–but it was so…hard.

Everything was just–

Smoke in the air had your eyes watering, a medic was adjusting the mask around your head–your mouth. Your pupils dilated and you tried to sit up, but it hurt–you felt around, realzing you were on a gurney. “It’s okay–you're alright.” Another medic was getting the ambulance open and ready behind you.

Burnt ash–oh that’s foul! You coughed, heaving in breaths, “just calm down, it’ll be alright.” A third medic rubbed your arm, you twitched–feeling uncomfortable. Eventually, she stepped away when you seemed to have settled down. 

What was that? What the hell–where was he? Spencer you had to find–Avice, was she okay? Did they find her?

Your vision was clouded by the vapor and the graying sky–it was late and you were high up in the mountains. You could hear people milling about–a swarm of people were in front of you, there were cars, there was a gate, there–oh my gosh.

Groups of people–mostly students and police–surrounded the outside of the school. It was burning–the school was on fire–the entire thing, it was burning down–and you smelled it–the little oxygen you had access to caught in your throat.

Her perfume. The fregernce was so strong you turned your head because she must have been beside you. There–a lock of blonde hair…disspearing behind the walls of the school, toward the…the courtyard. You jerked away from the medics, why were there tubes in you? You’d had enoug of that–you sat up, holding your head.

“Hey, you can’t–you have to sit so we can help you.” Her gentle voice wasn’t soothing any part of your headache. What happened?

“Get off me,” you pushed and rolled yourself off the gurney, hitting the floor with a thud. There waere shouting, more people circling you–God why couldn’t they just give you a moment? You ignored the blood trickling from the sleeve of your button up.

You shivered–though you didn’t know why. You had to get to her, people watched you go around them–probably wondering where you were headed and why you would want to go back into that wretched sinful. 

A hand caught your arm and though your first instinct was to jerk it back–you hated being touched, though you didn’t think to question why that was in the moment–you kept your cool when you noted who it was.

She held up a piece of paper, blocking line of sight, you caught the black ink scribbled down–the smoke grew stronger, filling the space between you and the paper. You pulled it out of her hold and help it closer to your face.

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦...𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺?

Cairo’s thick hair appeared in you peripheral secons afterward. You gripped the pen she extended toward you and clicked the top.

𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝘁𝗼𝗼

You smelled it. Her scent mixed with the smoke–adn she wasn’t here. You’re heart fell to your feet and cupped your mouth to keep the bile down as the memory of what that things had last said resurfaced …those missing studnets you were investigating never actually left the premise…

You slide to the floor near the gate and screamed–it was deafening to you–and though she couldn’t hear you, you could tell Cairo understood. She held you for a moment which was weird because you were the adult. You were the one who should be comforting her.

She walked you toward the gurneys again, doing her best to conceal you from the media that somehow found there way up here even though you were sure the roads were being blocked off. 

She handed you back the paper after a moment–it was dirty, you now noticed–and wrinkled. You read over the paper, and her frown turned into somewhat of a griamce as she tried to smile–though it only seemed to deepen her expression. 

𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦

Though everything hurt and you felt dirty in your own skin, you did took the pen and paper back.

𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁

You thought that would be the end of it, Cairo had turned, seemingly ready to walk away–but she hesitated. A second later, she was sliding another piece of paper into your hands–you felt something between the folds. Your hands gripped the paper, though they began shaking uncontrollably, so you had to set it down. 

Cairo was lost in the crowds when you gazed up again.

It was a bit of a struggle, but ultimately the corners of the pages were flattened on your lap. You felt another wave of tears spring into your eyes when you took in the object. A single earring you could never dream to afford captured your attention–and the words on the page behind it,

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶

your head jerked up, you eyes searching through the crowd for any sign of the girl. She was there and then she wasn’t–just like….you couldn’t bring yourself to even think her name. 

And then, almost fundamentally, your eyes caught tussles of brown…when his face came into view, a new kind of sadness came over you–it hit hard and heavy. He smiled, already making his way toward you–and you knew then–that you were safe. Though abruptly, you smelled that fragrance and you knew this was only the end of the beginning.

a/n: genuinely so proud of this fic–i was very excited to write this, i also tried something different with Cairo's report–please let me know if you liked that or not and stay updated for part two !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody@kennedy-brooke @maisyyyyyy

[cythena]

TOUCH ME TEASE ME FEEL ME UP

❥ — ꒰ notes ꒱ gojo, yuuji, toji, nanami x fem!reader, making out, public (yuuji), semi public (gojo, toji, nanami), cursing, tit sucking (gojo), there’s no sex but very suggestive, everyone gets cockblocked

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ you looked so good for them and they couldn’t resist getting their hands and lips on you

SATORU GOJO ✰ BACKSEAT

he always had ijichi take you two around. he still has no idea how he convinced ijichi to drive you both around. satoru decided to take you on a date to a high class sushi restaurant in the city. you deserved it after the stressful mission you had. so you dressed up. you wore a tight deep blue dress (that he bought for you) and these black heels. he loved the way your legs looked in heels. they shaped your body nicely.

as you walked into the restaurant, he rested his hand on your back right before your ass curved. he couldn’t resist touching you when you looked so perfect. when you sat in front of him he admired your chest and collarbone adorned by the jewelry he gifted you. seeing you made the strongest’s ego swell up even more.

on your way back to the car ijichi texted satoru he would be back to the car in a minute and he didn’t mind at all. he didn’t tell you but he did start rushing you to the car just a little. when you were in your seat he pounced.

he protected your head from hitting the window with his hand. his body crawled on top of you and caged you in. he rubbed his hands against your thighs to pull your dress above your hips. you pushed his head harder against your collarbone. he sucked harshly at your skin until he was confident you had a dark purple bruise. “oh! s-satoru! ijichi-”

“isn’t here right now,” he cut you off and pressed another kiss to your lips. he moved to pull the top of your dress down. now he could see your braless tits. he slurped your nipples obnoxiously loud. “you just look so fucking sexy right now. i’ve been so hot for you since i saw you.”

you whined at his words. he sat up and pulled you down to lie flat on the seat. he lifted your ankle onto his shoulder. his lips focused on kissing your soft ankle and higher. your tits were covered in bite marks illuminated by the moonlight flowing into the car. satoru rubbed two fingers right against your clit through your thin panties.

“you wearin’ a thong?” he teased. you nodded with a loud moan when he squeezed your skin. he shifted his arm underneath your waist to flip you over. “shit- ‘ve gotta see that.”

suddenly someone cleared their throat. satoru languidly pulled himself away from you. his fingers still rubbed at your slit. you scrambled to fix your appearance. in the rear view mirror ijichi’s glasses reflected. you shamefully pulled your dress up and smoothed out the bottom.

“these tinted windows shouldn’t be abused,” the driver muttered to satoru. you could only wished to be as shameless as your boyfriend.

YUUJI ITADORI✰ BEACH

yuuji loved the beach. there was only one thing he loved more, your ass. so imagine his delight when getting to combine his two favorite things. nobara was a genius for planning this day. you had on a cute pink bikini. he remembers you picking it and showing him. it looked pretty online but he didn’t imagine it could look so perfect on you.

the small cups hugged your boobs to your chest and at first you had on the matching beach skirt. he held your hand while you walked to a nice secluded spot to hold for you and your friends. when your spot was ready, you untied the knot at the side and let the skirt fall.

yuuji was looking through your bag for sunscreen at the time. you were facing the ocean while talking to him. when he looked up he caught a beautiful sight of you. your skin was barely covered, it was so delicious to look at. it glimmered in the sun too. he could’ve sworn his mouth was watering. you turned around when he didn’t respond to your question.

“c’mere baby, real quick,” he murmured in a trance. he pulled you onto his lap. his hands played with your ass, fondling and squishing it. your tits were right in front his face too. “you look so pretty, my pretty girl right.” he said with a kiss to your shoulder.

he kissed up your neck and onto your lips. you held the sides of his face as your tongues met. your cunt rubbed against his crotch. he groaned into your mouth. your tongues swirled around each other’s.

“yuuj, calm down,” you giggled. he only pouted and leaned back in to kiss you. you didn’t resist him. your nails tickled his scalp from his undercut. he cock pressed through his shorts. he brought his hand to play with your boob from underneath the thin layer of your top. he pinched and toyed with your nipple.

“‘m sorry baby, your lips taste good. i can’t help it.” his cheeks flushed furiously. your head fell back in a laugh. you kissed his cheeks and stroked his hair. he tasted your strawberry lips again. they were so soft and delicious against his own.

“looking hot y/n! i missed you!” you turned around to see nobara, maki, and megumi walking over. yuuji’s mood deflated now. he hugged you to his chest until you eventually freed yourself to say hi. he laid back on the chair with a towel obviously laid on his lap.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✰ ELEVATOR

getting toji out of the house was a struggle. he didn’t want to get dressed and go to your friend’s party. the entire time you were doing your makeup and getting dressed, he was right behind you pawing at your hips.

you were grateful you made it into the building. your friend rented out a penthouse for her birthday. you stared at the buttons on the wall to the elevator.

“didn’t even know they made buildings this damn tall,” your boyfriend grumbled as he tugged on his collar. you looked at the mirror next to you — bending over to reapply your lipgloss. when toji turned to see what you were doing his eyes immediately fell to your ass sticking out for him.

his hand flew to grab a handful. the impact jutted to you forward a bit and you smeared your lipgloss. angrily, you stood back up about to reprimand him when he shoved you against the mirror. your lip gloss tube clattered to the ground.

his hands swooped your wrists together above your head. one hand locked them together while the other took advantage of the full access to your body. he nipped at your neck, exposed collarbone, and took his time in between your breasts.

“look so good, gotta mark ya up, make sure no man looks at you.”

“toji! control yourself!” you whined. he played with your thighs. his tongue licked a wide stripe back up your neck.

“mad i fucked up your lips?” he taunted. your leg wrapped around his waist, shifting your dress higher. the mirror revealed your lacy black panties that you were saving for him for after the party. you nodded with your lip stuck between your teeth. “poor baby.” he pecked your lips and wiped away the wine colored smudge. his husky voiced whispered, “i’m gonna ruin your whole look.”

the elevator dinged once before both doors began sliding open. toji loosened his grip for a second giving you the chance to push him off. you swiped your lip gloss from the ground and frantically reapplied it while toji fixed your dress. as soon as the doors on either side of you were exposed to the crowd of people.

you hurried to greet your friend with a nervous smile. your hands still smoothed out any wrinkles he left. toji followed behind you, blocking out the bit of your ass left hanging out just for him to see.

KENTO NANAMI ✰ OFFICE

kento was so proud of you for getting a promotion. now you got a new office that needed to be moved into. he offered his assistance to move your boxes into the new place. it wasn’t hard but he just wanted to spend some more time with you.

“you look so gorgeous, princess. i’m very proud of you,” he praised you. he picked you up and spun you around. you giggled once he put you down on your desk. he stroked the side of your cheek. you leaned into his touch.

“thank you, baby.” now kento considered himself a higher class man. he would never act on his perverted thoughts but when he looked down, the button on your blouse was open. multiple actually. enough for the plum colored lace of your bra to peek out.

he checked the time. it was about to be your lunch break. your body relaxed in his arms while he kissed up your neck. he kissed your ear and jawline.

“mhm. what’s gotten into you kento?” you sighed. your hand rested in his hair as he worked around your face. your eyes shut to intensify the feeling of his warm lips on your body. his thumbs stroked the dimples of your back.

“you smell good. do you have time?” he asked already knowing your answer. you followed his steps and checked your clock. he pulled away to look into your deep eyes. you gave him a nod and he reflected your mischievous glint in your eyes and smile.

he helped you to your back and rocked against you. he shoved his suit jacket off, disregarding where it landed. your buttons flew open, displaying your bra. he kissed them before his hands could meet them. your legs wrapped around his waist as your pencil skirt rose. he rubbed your thighs and snapped the strap of your garters against them.

“kento… ‘ts good, feels good,” you purred. he breathed in the alluring scent of your perfume. he’d have to buy you more. it had him rutting against you desperately. he grunted into your skin.

he locked hands with you against your desk. he wrapped the side of your panties around one knuckle to pull it down. he just needed to hear more of you. he had to hear you beg for more of him.

a rhythmic tapping sound echoed in the room. it only hit twice before kento was off of you and pulling your panties up and skirt down. you worked quickly to button up your shirt again.

“just a moment,” you called with a shaky voice. he smoothed out your hair and fixed any details you might’ve missed. “come in!”

the new intern walked in with some papers for you. his eyes flashed around the room nervously. they landed on kento, his slightly wrinkled shirt and gray pants. then they landed on the matching gray suit jacket in the corner.

— © cythena 2024. do not share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

[notyourjaem]

5% tint ☆ c. yeonjun

☆ PAIRING: sugardaddy!yeonjun x collegestudent!reader (f)

☆ GENRE: smut (18+ readers only! dont make me block you)

☆ SUMMARY: you didn't think that doing well on an exam would mean that you would be fucked in the front seat of a porsche; good thing your sugar daddy has 5% tint.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

☆ WARNINGS: gendered terms are used (girl), semi public sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of praise from yeonjun, yeonjun drives a porsche (I think its a valid warning), yeonjun is wearing rings, making out, creampie kink perhaps?, dirty talk, obviously car sex!! lmk if i forgot anything its almost 1am and im an old lady.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: so heres part of the concept that I literally could not stop yapping about if I tried. combining my interests here: a hot man taking care of me and a porsche of my dreams. I am actually considering making this a series, with a backstory and everythingg so lmk your thots :)

a big thank you to @silvergyus @nightlyawnzz @hearts4huening for being my beta readers for this, and I may use your services in the future.

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

walking to the front of your lecture hall, you collected the results from your latest exam. After finding your name in the pile of papers, you could barely contain your excitement when you saw the boldly printed 100% on the front.

Yeonjun would be so happy.

You quickly walked back to collect your things, before pulling out your phone to text him since he was picking you up from class.

you: going to be walking out in a few. I have good results!!

yeonjun: ahh my smart girl. I'm waiting for you out front.

Soon after you walked out through the double doors of the building that you were in, spotting Yeonjun’s gray Porsche parked up front.

Yeonjun had a pretty dark window tint, so you couldn’t see inside that well. You opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat; Yeonjun beaming.

“There’s my girl.” He had the biggest smile on his face. “Look at you, dressed all cute.” He was referencing your plaid skirt and big crewneck sweatshirt that was actually his.

“Did you just come from the office or something?” You asked him, leaning in to kiss him. “You look so nice.” You smoothed your hand over his button down dress shirt, making him smirk.

“Now let me see this test, huh?”

“Okay.” You quickly dug the scantron out of your folder that you had. Handing it over to Yeonjun, leaning over his center console as he examined it.

He was smirking.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” You spoke with a huge smile on your face.

“Ah, see I knew you’d do well.” Yeonjun put his hand onto your jaw to kiss you.

You hummed against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. “I missed you last night, daddy.” You kissed him again.

Yeonjun smirked against your lips before pulling away slightly. “Yeah? You know I want you to focus on your school too.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s easier to study when I’m sitting on your lap. You know?” You reached down to feel Yeonjun’s cock, which to your surprise was half erect.

“With my cock inside of you? Princess, you know you can’t focus.”

You remembered the time you swore that you would sit still and study on Yeonjun’s lap while he worked. You didn’t last five minutes before you were fucking yourself on his cock.

You pouted as Yeonjun moved to kiss you towards your neck. “But I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy.”

Yeonjun practically choked back a moan; if his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely was now. “And I always reward you, don’t I?”

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, then went to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants. You let out an audible noise when he finally lowered his underwear, leaky, pretty cock out on full display.

“Go ahead and sit on it, pretty girl.” Yeonjun spoke, shuddering slightly when he swiped the tip with his thumb.

You felt a sudden tinge of shyness when you took off your shoes. Yeonjun could practically read your mind.

“The tints are too dark; no one can see you.”

“Okay, help me.” You answered, slightly laughing at the fact that you were going to climb over the console of a car that cost as much as your parents' house.

“I got you.” Yeonjun held onto you. Before you sat down on him, he pulled the fabric of your underwear out of the way.

“Oh my- fuck, you’re so wet.” Yeonjun gasped. “I’ll slip right fucking in.”

You lowered yourself onto him, and it was painfully slow; making you feel every inch of his cock.

Yeonjun was seconds away from ruining his leather with his fingernails with the way that he was gripping onto the passenger seat.

“Daddy…your cock. Fuck.” You sighed, dropping your head into his neck; taking a breath of his sweet cologne. He was fully inside of you, nuzzled up into that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby I know.” His hands were roaming your thighs and ass. Your underwear was cutting into you, but you couldn’t care less.

You slowly started to grind onto him, trying to find a rhythm in the limited space that you had. Yeonjun looked ahead, subtly watching if anyone walked by his car.

“You look so pretty, you know.” He spoke into your ear. “My dick inside of you in the front seat of my Porsche.” He suddenly gripped onto your hips, fucking you onto his cock.

“You’re my good girl, you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer, just let out a whimper of a moan.

“Repeat it back to me, baby.” His grip was so tight you thought his rings were going to make marks in your skin.

“I’m your…good girl.” You nearly choked on your words. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yeonjun could already tell by the way that you were clenching around him, and he probably wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Yeonjun turned your face to look at him in one quick movement. “Yeah? I’m so fucking deep in you aren’t I?” His voice was low; you knew what he was doing.

The sounds of your cunt were obscene; Yeonjun loved every second of it. He studied your face as he angled your hips differently, cockhead hitting so deep that your jaw fell slack.

You’ve never looked so pretty to him. Honors student studying biology. Probably going to end up being a doctor. He knew you’d be decorated in cords at your graduation. But now, he was hitting so deep you couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Letting out a rather loud whine when your orgasm finally hit you, Yeonjun kissed you, shushing you. After all, his car only had a tint; not soundproofing.

“Cum in me. Please, daddy.” You were nearly delirious, whimpering expletives. Yeonjun knew you were actually being serious, because you always begged him to. “That’s my reward, right?”

And how could he say no? Not when you were whining, begging as you pulled on his necklace to kiss him.

“You can take it all?” He asked. Stupid question. You always could, even if he had to fuck it back into you.

You eagerly nodded, lips jutting out to a pout before you kissed him again.

“God you drive me fucking insane.” Yeonjun’s last words before letting go of his orgasm that he was trying to hang onto. “You feel so fucking good.”

The fact that he was probably making a mess out of his seat was sent to the back of his mind. He’d deal with that later, because the moan that you let out made it all worth it.

“Fuck.” He was panting. “You have to be quiet.” Grinding his hips with yours; his cock was still inside of you making you slightly wince at how messy everything felt.

“Shit.” You muttered, looking down at where the two of your bodies connected.

“Yeah, I made a fuckin mess.” Yeonjun jokes, his hands roaming your thighs. “We should probably go back to my place….” His voice trailed off like it was a question.

“Hmm?” You were confused. “I thought you texted me earlier that you wanted to go to the Prada store, no?”

“Yes…” Yeonjun bit down on his bottom lip, smirking. “But I don’t think I'm finished with you yet.”

☆ TAGS: @mhasimp666 @yunsbby @sikkkko

(strike through indicates I am unable to tag, please make sure your tagging feature is turned on!)

[starmocha]

Push & Pull [Caleb/Reader ★ 1939 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] What a bore, he thought, no longer amused by tonight’s show. A/N: To be fair…this was started at the same time as Pillow Talk. idk what I’m defending myself from I’ve done worse alkaal;akla Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer 【 request to be added 】

He was just a tease.

But you liked it.

You liked the way Caleb didn’t make the first move, the way he always seemed to smile knowingly, already aware of what was going through your mind. He would calmly observe you, a smirk here, a chuckle there, whenever it seemed you wanted to make him jealous.

Tonight was no different. You were feeling particularly bratty, wanting to provoke him a little for your own amusement. He didn’t say anything when you had left his side, already strutting your way through the crowd, capturing the intrigue of the wolves in this den, their eyes gleaming from the lascivious thoughts running rampantly in their minds as they traversed down your body.

In the crowded bar, Caleb sat in a corner booth, leg crossed over the other as he enjoyed his drink and the entertainment you provided. He chuckled, feeling a twinge of pride, knowing that everything of yours belonged to him.

Glass to his lips, he took a slow sip, darkened eyes watching your every move from across the room.

Such a pretty little thing, so strong and alluring, you were the object of many male gazes, a figment in all of their perverted fantasies, but, oh, what a shame that your own eyes were only on Caleb truly. He watched you entertained the flirtatious advances, smiling and giggling, dumbed down for their pathetic sake, their pride too fragile to truly experience the kind of woman you could be in the bedroom. None of these swine could match his caliber. At this point, it seemed more insulting to you than him.

What a bore, he thought, no longer amused by tonight’s show.

Caleb set his glass back down on the table and stood up, crossing the room in slow strides with his long legs. He always did know when you would try to make him jealous, and tonight was just one of those nights. However, it never worked—not even once—because you would always come back to him, just like how he would always find his way to you.

He exuded an aura of dominance, a silent command to yield to him. One cold stare had dispersed the crowd of boys around you, and soon, you felt that familiar presence lingering behind, him knelt down lower, his lips from your ear, a faint growl in his normally gentle voice with you:

“My room—now.”

In a dark hotel room overlooking Linkon, the floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the city lights to illuminate the space, enough so that after you had pushed him onto the bed, he lounged casually and watched as you stripped out of your little black dress for him.

You wondered if he was always this good at masking his expressions, because even with the minimal lights in the room, you couldn’t truly discern his look. You reached behind your back and unclipped your black lacy bra, letting it fall to reveal your breasts to him. He tilted his head a little, appearing more amused than aroused, almost as if he was simply studying you for a figure drawing class than appreciating you as a work of art crafted by God Himself.

You huffed a little in annoyance, still determined to get a rise out of him.

You climbed into bed with him, crawling closer until you were settled in between his legs, peering up at him with the same naughty smile you wore all night long. His hands instantly grabbed your face, his lips upon yours as he kissed with the intensity and intention of bruising you enough to leave his mark, a reminder that you were always his. It didn’t take much before he had you immediately flipped on your back, trapped beneath his heavy body, your legs already parting to allow him access.

He smirked. It was, after all, so sweet how you were always ready for him, always desiring him when you could have any man you wanted. You stared up into his familiar violet eyes, your chest heaving, breathing heavier as your body was trembling with anticipation. He knelt above you, his hand grabbing at his tie, loosening them as it was his turn to provide you a show.

With every article of clothing he took off, revealing more and more of him to you, you could feel a growing ache as you imagined those large hands grabbing at your buttocks, his toned chest pressed against your body, and his warm mouth taking your nipple to suckle and tease until they hardened, until he had you squirming underneath him, legs trembling, your cunt dripping obscenely for him.

“Caleb…”

“I know,” he murmured, as he tossed the last item of clothing on the hotel floor. He reached out and grabbed at the waistband of the panties you still wore. He hummed low, his arousal visible, once he took in the sight of the soaked panties. “Already this wet…fuck…”

His lips were on yours again, and you both fumbled in the dark, hands exploring one another, your moans and his heating up the room.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he murmured, “I want to hear more…”

You felt his calloused hand rubbed circles on your thigh, and then—

Smack!

A piercing slap resounded, the sting had you crying, squealing in surprise, but also aroused by his dominance. Caleb chuckled, seeing that delighted look in your eyes. He slapped you again, harder, the noises you were making a blend of pain and pleasure.

“Did you enjoy prancing yourself around those men tonight?” he asked calmly, his voice neutral, showing no sign of annoyance or anger. He seemed almost genuinely curious. He slapped harder, the sting lingering far longer than the previous instances. Almost immediately, he rubbed the same spot he had struck in soothing circles, and he murmured lazily, “Answer me.”

“…No,” you admitted, panting softly as you gazed up into his eyes. There were tears in the corner of your own eyes, a natural reaction to feeling the sharp pain.

“No?” he questioned, almost mockingly. He reached up and brushed those tears aside, his lips kissed your temple. “But it was your idea to act like a slut tonight.”

You whined at him, “Caleb…”

He immediately chuckled and apologized. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, “You don’t like being called a slut, do you?”

You remained silent, eyes darting to the side in avoidance. His hand grasped your chin, making you keep your sight on him. He continued in that same soft and even tone, “Or rather, you only like being my slut?”

You inhaled sharply, and Caleb laughed, your quick natural response answering his question more honestly than words ever could. He kissed you again, settling more comfortable in between your legs. You gasped when you felt his hard, thick cock pressing against your slick entrance. You trembled, breathing shuddering as he eased himself in, his low groans answering your own cries.

Caleb panted softly, smiling, and spoken almost matter-of-factly, “You’ll always be my slut.”

He started shallowly thrusting in and out, feeling your walls stretching to accommodate him. He continued in that same easy tone, “You can take as many cocks from as many men, but you’ll always want me instead.”

“Ca-Caleb…!”

You were whining, gasping and moaning, your body responding to the pleasure of feeling him penetrating you again and again in this same, leisure rhythm as he took his time, relishing in the lewd expressions you wore only for him.

“How many men has this pussy taken?” he asked, his lips on yours once more, swallowing those heavenly moans.

“I guess I really don’t fucking care,” he admitted, “Because you will always be mine. Isn’t that right, pipsqueak?”

You were trembling, tears in your eyes, too overstimulated by him and his words to truly grasp what he was saying.

“Answer me,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, your arms now wrapped around his neck. His own arms wrapped around you, lifting you from the bed as your legs locked around his waist. His pace grew more brutal, no longer slow and leisurely. He panted heavily, his voice lower than before, as he demanded again, “Answer me. You will always be mine, right?”

You whimpered into his shoulder, crying and agreeing without thinking, “Yes! I’m yours, Caleb! Always yours!”

One hand rested on the back of your head, pressing you closer to his shoulder. He smiled faintly. “Good girl,” he whispered, “My good girl. My pretty little slut. All mine.”

You squealed as wordlessly, Caleb took you harder, fucking you so intensely, you could feel your climax fast approaching with every deep, hard thrust. You panted, sharp nails digging into his back, his immediate groans had you clenching around him, squeezing him until you both were crashing, falling deeper and deeper into this state of euphoria together.

Your back hit the mattress again, and Caleb’s body collapsed on yours, his weight keeping you trapped underneath. You reached forward, your hand brushing against his damped bangs that clung to his forehead. He looked down at you, curious, almost as if he was waiting for your next move. You smiled and leaned up, kissing him where you had just touched.

He smiled back, his expression warmer than before, feeling very familiar, a memory of a time so far in the past now. You sometimes wished you could see this same smile again more often, and perhaps, maybe over time, you both could return to that period of innocence. It didn’t seem like an impossible dream, you thought, your fingers still lightly stroking his temple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Caleb murmured, breaking you out of your trance. He grabbed at your restless hand, little kisses pressed against your fingers as he peered up again into your eyes, as if he was waiting still, silently calculating.

You wondered what he was thinking, what was hidden behind those eyes for so long. You remembered when they shined like brilliant amethyst, but now it seemed a dark cloud had overcast.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, kissing your cheek before he had gotten up.

You lazed in bed, tired but immensely satisfied, still feeling the lingering warmth of his body heat against yours. You struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling a heavy exhaustion wracking your entire body.

It wouldn’t hurt to nod off for just a few seconds, you thought.

Perhaps you might have rested for far too longer, because now, you suddenly found yourself feeling weightless. Once you had opened your eyes, you realized the reason for the change. Cradled in Caleb’s arms, he carried you to the bathroom.

“Can you walk?” he asked, peering down after he had noticed you stirring.

You immediately shook your head, the faint gleam of mischievousness twinkled in your eye.

“Still a brat?” he asked, and you pouted, just a bit upset that he had caught on so quickly to your treachery. He sighed in mock-exasperation. “Alright, alright.”

The warm bath he had drawn felt heavenly on tired muscles. Completely spent and satisfied, Caleb kept you cradled in between his long legs as you both relaxed in the water, because this was how it always was. He would always take care of you. It was just in his nature, a natural instinct he could never ignore.

The water rippled when he moved, his head bent to kiss along the nape of your neck. His murmur was so soft and warm, a contrast to his earlier cold teasing. Your guard lowered, you relaxed against him, his arm wrapping around your waist as he gazed down at you, a satisfied smile graced his lips.

My pipsqueak. Mine.

[caniball1sticdes1re]

hello, you

pairings . joe goldberg x fem!reader

warnings . stalking, mentions of breaking and entering, mutual masturbation (kind of), joe being a creep, reader being a creep

a/n . can’t let gang know i fw joe goldberg

hello, you.

see, the thing about you is that you think you hide things well. you think you pass as innocent. you almost had me fooled, i’ll give you that, but you forget one little detail. there is nothing, and i mean nothing, my dear, that you could hide from me. you’re looking through the children’s section, looking for a new book to read to your class, but i know you. i know what disgusting, vile things you want- no, need me to do to you. if Paco wasn’t upstairs and your little ex-fling wasn’t downstairs, i’d bend you over this coun-

“hey, joe.. just this please” she sets the children’s book on the counter, along with an erotica. she picks up a lollipop from the bowl next to joe, unwrapping it and throwing it in the small trash next to her. an erotica? when the hell did you pick this up, quick little thing. and you grabbed a lollipop? god, if you wanted me that bad, you could’ve just said something! poor, needy girl.

joe slides both books to his side, a small smirk on his face. “interesting choices.. this for the kids?” he picks up the children’s book, ringing it up before he scans the erotica. she nods, a small hum accompanied by her smile. “yeah! we finished the other one you suggested… it was really good.”

joe shoots her a smile, one that quickly fell when he’d finished reading the back of the other book. stockholm syndrome, huh? you really are starved. he sticks her receipt in the book cover before handing both of them back. his eyes linger on her lips wrapped around the lollipop as she takes it out of her mouth, her lips tinted red and wet.

“thanks joe, have a good day” he smiles, nodding. fuck, i cannot get enough of you.

hello, you

something i like about you is your lack of social awareness, how you forget to close your blinds before digging into that erotica. dumb thing, you want me to see you, don’t you? why else do you keep that one specific window open, your legs spread perfectly in my view so i can watch your hand move like your life depends on it?

the book is discarded by now, and soon enough she decides her hand isn’t quite enough to get her off. joe watches as she picks up two of her pillows, stuffing them under her wetness, whining as she grinds down on it. joe’s hand slips down his pants, his mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape. he pulls himself out, his hand running up and down his length as he stares at you, whimpering with every bump against the pillow. what he fails to see is that she’s wearing his shirt, one he’d lost days ago while he was out, taking care of the only thing that stood between him and his true love. fuck, you dirty thing, seems like i have my own little stalker on my hands.

joe’s hand picks up the pace, sighing and groaning out into his bedroom as images of him being the one she’s riding clouds his mind. he watches as her thrusts get sloppier, her grip getting harder on the pillows. that’s it sweet girl, cum for me honey.

and she does, throwing her head back as she slips her hand back down to her pussy to slide across her clit. her cum seeps out of her and drips down onto the pillow and at the same time, joe’s cum shoots out and drips over his hand, a declaration of her name leaving his lips as he does.

his vision goes blurry for a second, looking down at the mess he’d made. once he’d looked back up however, he watches as you lock eyes with him, smile, then close your blinds. well, shit.

[ruesol]

catalyst - chapter 1

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

fanfic masterlist

Gravel crunched underneath your sneakers as you dragged them along the pavement. You had been running around the city with tired limbs and a resume in hand, trying to get a job after getting your last rejection letter from one of the medical schools you applied to.

Thank you for expressing interest in our medical program. Upon evaluating your transcripts, credentials, and extracurriculars, we regret to inform you that you are not eligible to join this year’s class. We will gladly consider your application for next year’s class if you wish to reapply. You may contact the admissions department for questions regarding the next application cycle.

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. You had been crying about your future for the past week. With all the hard work that went into all those volunteering hours, internships, and research assistantships, you were sure to get in.

But no, not in the system set up in this day and age. There will always be someone more qualified and well-connected than you. And even if they aren’t, they will always benefit from nepotism. 

Your feet dragged themselves till you couldn’t take it anymore. You broke down, ass landing on the curb in front of a random convenience store in the middle of some no-name neighborhood. Tears spilled down the apples of your cheeks as they drenched your chin and neck. The sky roared, and rain began to pour down. 

You wailed harder and tried to drown out the noise by yelling curses at the sky. You thought of all the tests you studied for, all the diagrams taped up on your walls, and all the money you spent on your applications. You had spent so much time and effort preparing for medical school that you couldn’t invest in a plan B. You needed a job to fund yourself, at least until you could get back up on your feet and figure out what you wanted to do, but to your misfortune, no one was hiring.

There was nothing more agonizing than being led astray from your original path. You began to question your abilities. Maybe if you had just paid attention in that class, you’d have an A instead of an A minus, or if you had just volunteered more, you’d seem more competitive. 

But it was all useless. What’s done is done. You groaned into your pruned hands. 

Then, all of a sudden, you could hear the muffled sounds of raindrops hitting canvas. “Funny, you seem different from how he described you.” You looked up to see a white-haired figure holding an umbrella over your head. “Uraume. No last name. Please come with me.”

You looked behind the figure and saw a sleek black Range Rover with tinted windows. It looked like it didn’t belong in this neck of the woods. Great, you were rejected from almost all the vacant positions in the city, and you were about to be trafficked for the benefit of wealthy people.

“I have a mace, so get away from me,” you said while walking away, not putting away much of a fight.

“Sukuna Ryomen. I’m sure you know him,” Uraume continued. “He needs you.”

Since when did traffickers start doing background checks on their victims? Your stomach churned as you began to walk faster, trying to outrun the chalky white-haired person who was now hot on your heels. However, having not eaten all day, you barely had the energy to pick up your speed, so you pulled your phone out to call the police, which, to your misfortune, was dead. You began to sob as you slowed down, and you noticed that the Range Rover was trying to catch up with you. 

It began to slow down beside you when its window rolled down. “Hey, it’s me, Yuuji!” 

You stopped, and so did the vehicle. Yuuji, your ex-best friend’s little brother, was smiling at you. “Just hear us out.” The boy (well, now a man) said with the most sincere eyes you had ever seen. Uraume walked towards you, covering your now-drenched body with their umbrella. 

-

You couldn’t believe your eyes- the once scrawny little kid you knew was now a tall man. Yuuji’s facial features had changed significantly. His round face was replaced by sharp angles (much like his older brother’s), and he also sported a few new scars (the ones beneath both his eyes being the most noticeable as they looked identical). He walked you through everything that had happened in Sukuna’s life since you both lost touch, while Uarume guided you both through the VIP area of the city’s most prominent hospital. They also casually added that they had a private investigator look into whatever you were up to in the past month, which freaked you out. No one wonder they knew way too much about you. 

It turns out that after you two lost touch, Sukuna became a famous boxing champion. He didn’t bother getting into the details of how it happened, but as far as you know, Sukuna never really expressed any interest in it whenever you were around. Yuuji pulled his phone out to show you his latest fight- the reason why he’s so battered up. 

You winced as you watched the clip, having a hard time trusting your eyes. There were many things you didn’t know about the martial arts world, but it was still shocking that you had no idea your ex was a famous and skilled fighter. It was apparent he had a knack for getting into fights with how he’d defend you whenever a bully charged towards you or a creep so much as to even looked your way. It never occurred to you that his punches were just that precise and had less recoil because he was training to be a professional fighter.

Now, here he was, on Yuuji’s phone screen, being beaten and battered like a piece of rice cake being pounded by a human mallet. “I thought you said he was good.” You mumbled. “He is, but he’s been burnt out and has refused any kind of treatment for it.

You raised your brow as the three of you stopped in front of a large wooden door. “And I’m here because?” 

“We have tried everything. Yuuji has to return to his classes soon, and I have never been able to connect with that man emotionally enough to support him through such a tough time. Even his therapist says he’s a lost cause because he refuses to cooperate.” Uraume says as they open the wooden door to reveal a large, dark hospital room. 

It takes you a while to register what’s going on, with the only source of light being the skyscrapers visible through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows on the opposite end of the room. In the middle of the room, against the wall, was a large hospital bed with a few monitors surrounding it. In it, you could see a mop of pink hair. 

Sukuna Ryomen- professional boxer and ex-boyfriend in the flesh. The steady rise and fall of his chest told you that he was asleep. The sight led to an invisible lump forming in your throat. The last time you’d seen him in person was when you both had your biggest fight together. A shiver went down your spine as you remembered all the hurtful words you had spat at each other. In that moment, neither of you could believe you could’ve been that hostile.

You’d only ever seen him sick with a fever, and he was horrible enough to deal with during that time. You couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now. 

“As his manager, I’d like to hire you as his… well, I’m not sure what I’d call this position, but you’ll be making sure he gets better and is up to date with all his treatments and training,” Uraume said as they took you and Yuuji out the room. 

You sighed. “You want me to be his nanny?” 

“More like a personally involved manager, but we can have Sukuna’s doctor come up with a better name. Something to do with your field of interest. Her name is Dr. Shoko Ieri, and she’ll also be sure to refer you to all the good schools in the country so you can enroll in the next session.”

You didn’t know what to focus on first- the fact that you were offered a job (albeit a nanny for an adult) or that your idol, Shoko Ieri, was ready to refer you for your next applications. You had only ever seen her present at research conferences, all while you both had a common link this entire time. You felt lightheaded- the feeling of hope finally returning after a week of non-stop anxiety fits.

“So, do we have a deal?” Uraume extended their hand. 

But then again, things aren’t so good between you and Sukuna. At least from how you see things. Your relationship with him ended on a sour note, and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you did resent him a little for simply abandoning you and never making an effort to reach out again as you did. What if you failed? What if this whole thing ends up being one giant dumpster fire? 

You hesitantly looked at the pale hand in front of you. But then again, there was no way to go from here. What would you do anyway? Your paid internships never led to any full-time positions, and you barely had any money to get by after paying your rent for the next month. You also needed to pay for all the new applications and supplementary courses for your resume. 

“You should do it. They don’t like shaking hands with people, so this is major.” Yuuji whispered in your ears.

You gulped as your heart raced. In different circumstances, you would’ve said no, but you have nothing to look forward to besides getting a part-time job, which you knew wasn’t worth it with an offer like this to compete with it. You placed your hand in Uraume’s cold ones. They quickly shook your hand and pulled away like you had the plague (“They have a small case of germophobia,” Yuuji said later).

“When do I start?” you ask.

“Immediately. Since this job requires a lot of monitoring, I’ll have a few movers get your things and take them to Sukuna’s apartment. You’ll be living with him until he gets better” 

You didn’t know how to feel at that moment, chest still tight with the uneasiness from before. What you did know for sure was that Sukuna probably wouldn't be happy seeing you so at home in his personal space. 

[sheriffaxolotl]

Better (Abby Anderson x f!reader)

Warnings: Smut (18+ MDNI), cheating, use of words like cunt/pussy Wordcount: 8.4K A/N: This is my first time writing a smut between two characters. So, might be good, might be bad. Please let me know! Critique would be hugely appreciated ! ❛ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━･❪ Part 2 ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Summary: She could be a better boyfriend than him.

The bass thumps through the house like a second heartbeat, a dull, relentless pulse that rattles the windows and your skull. You already regret coming. The lights are low and tinted too red, and the air smells like spilled beer and too much cologne. Solo cup in hand, you snake your way toward the kitchen, phone raised like a shield, pretending to text someone—anyone—just to avoid making eye contact with the half-drunk crowd grinding to music that hasn’t been cool since high school.

Your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Said he’d just stepped out for a second—over thirty minutes ago. Classic.

You lean back against the edge of the counter, shoulders tense, trying to melt into the cabinetry. You scroll through the same three notifications again, wondering if anyone would even notice if you slipped out the front door. Maybe you’d just Uber home. Maybe—

A hand brushes your wrist. Warm. Intentional. And somehow, electric.

You look up.

Abby Anderson.

She’s standing just a little too close. Leather jacket slung over a tight black tee that hugs her just right, jeans riding low on her hips, and that damn smirk tugging at her mouth like she already knows something you don’t. Her hair’s pulled back loose, a few strands falling forward like she couldn’t be bothered to fix them before walking into the party and still managed to make it look effortless. Movie-scene levels of hot.

You’ve known Abby for a while—same classes, mutual friends, occasional gym hangouts—but she’s never looked at you like this.

Like the whole party’s just noise and you’re the only clear thing in the room.

“I can’t believe we’re finally alone,” she murmurs, her voice low and rough, barely audible over the music.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

She chuckles under her breath, the sound low and rich. “You always show up to these things with him. I almost didn’t bother coming tonight.”

Your eyes flick toward the living room, where bodies move in a blur of shadows and bass. Still no sign of him. Of course.

Abby’s eyes don’t follow yours. They stay fixed on you. Watching. Waiting.

“What are the chances?” she says after a beat, taking half a step closer. “Everyone’s dancing, the house is packed, and yet... he’s not with you.”

You feel it then—deep in your stomach. That fluttering, unsettling spark. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or her voice or just the way she’s looking at you, like she’s trying to decide whether to kiss you or ruin your life. Maybe both.

You shrug, trying to deflect, suddenly too aware of the heat creeping up your neck. “You know how he is.”

Abby’s jaw tightens just slightly. “Yeah,” she says. “I know exactly how he is.”

Her gaze flicks down to your wrist again, to the spot where her fingers brushed you. She doesn’t touch you this time. Not yet. But her hand hovers, twitching, like she’s debating something.

You swallow hard, suddenly needing air that isn’t thick with perfume and tension. “You’re acting weird,” you say, half-laughing, trying to cut the tension before it chokes you.

“No,” Abby says, head tilting. Her voice drops, goes velvet-smooth. “I’m acting honest.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Honest?”

She steps in, just close enough that her breath brushes your cheek. You can smell the faintest trace of mint on her lips.

“I’ve been watching you,” she says, quiet but firm. “Every time you show up with him. Every time he disappears on you. Every time you pretend not to care.”

You don’t move. Can’t.

Her voice softens, almost like she’s afraid you’ll bolt. “I don’t know what he’s doing, walking away from someone like you. But I do know what I’d do if you were mine.”

Your heart skips. Then stumbles. “Abby—”

She cuts you off, not with words, but by gently—finally—sliding her fingers around your wrist again. It’s not forceful. Just there. Steady. Real.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” she says. No teasing this time. Just quiet conviction. “I’d show up. I’d stay. I’d make you feel seen.”

You exhale, the sound half a scoff, half an attempt to push down the sudden ache in your chest. “You’re drunk,” you say, but it sounds thin. Weak.

“I’m not,” she says, stepping even closer, crowding into your space, but not unwelcome. “I’m dead sober. And I’ve been thinking about stealing you from him since the moment I saw you tonight.”

Your heart skips.

“I could be such a gentleman,” she adds, her voice like velvet now. “Plus—” she grins— “all my clothes would fit.”

You shake your head, grinning despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Abby shrugs, not letting go of your hand, “but I’m not wrong. You know I’m not.”

You should say something clever, something to shut her down or laugh it off. But instead, you glance down at your phone again—three unread texts from your boyfriend.

Where r u 

Be right back, chill 

Don’t start drama pls

You lock your phone and slide it into your pocket.

“I don’t need to tell you twice,” Abby says, reading your silence like a damn novel. “You know all the ways he falls short.”

She tilts her head, studying you with that steady, unreadable gaze that makes your stomach twist. “If I could give you some advice…” Her voice is soft now, like it’s meant only for you, cut off from the noise and heat around you.

You meet her eyes, hesitant. “Yeah?”

Her mouth quirks into a subtle smirk, but there’s something deeper behind it—something that feels like truth. “I’d leave with me. Tonight.”

Your heart lurches. Your lips part, some weak protest fumbling to the surface, but she cuts you off before it can form.

“Ladies first, baby,” she murmurs, her voice rough velvet. “I insist.”

You freeze—not because you’re unsure, but because everything in you is sure, and that’s the terrifying part. The confidence in her words, the closeness of her body, the way she’s just there, so solid and real—every inch of her feels like something you’ve been aching for without even realizing.

You look at her. Really look.

And all you can think is: Why the hell am I still waiting on someone who never looks at me like this?

Abby watches your face shift. Watches the storm behind your eyes and says nothing. Just steps closer, slow and patient, until there’s barely a breath between you.

“I never would’ve left you alone,” she says quietly, her words deliberate and low. “Not glued to your phone. Not standing in a corner like you’re invisible.”

It hits something deep in your chest.

The sounds of the party start to melt away—like someone’s slowly turning down the volume on everything except her voice, her presence. Abby’s hand finds yours again. Warm. Steady. She squeezes once, gentle. A question.

“Let me take you home,” she says.

You don’t respond. Not yet.

Instead, you stare at her lips. And she sees it—sees you falter forward an inch before stopping yourself. The air between you turns thick, charged with something neither of you says out loud.

Her eyes flick to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “Say it,” she whispers. “Or do it. But don’t run back to someone who keeps forgetting how lucky he is.”

You hesitate, just a breath longer.

Then you step in, heart hammering so loud you’re sure she can hear it. You reach up, fingers brushing the edge of her jacket—but you don’t kiss her. Not yet. You stop there, close enough to feel her breath against your skin.

She doesn’t move either. She waits. Eyes locked to yours. Letting you choose.

And you do.

You slide your hand up, curling your fingers into her lapel like a lifeline, and when you finally pull her in, it’s slow. Careful. Like the seconds are stretched out and folded in on themselves.

Your lips meet—tentative, testing—and the first touch is barely more than a breath, a question neither of you wants to ask too loudly. But then she leans in, and so do you, and suddenly you’re kissing her for real—deep, slow, and undeniable.

It’s not frantic. It’s not rushed.

It’s full of everything you haven’t let yourself feel. All the longing, all the frustration, all the what-ifs you’ve swallowed down night after night.

Abby’s hand comes up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your jaw with a kind of reverence, like she’s afraid to wake you from a dream. You let out a shaky breath into her mouth, your whole body leaning into her without even meaning to.

And then she’s moving.

Her other arm slips around your waist, anchoring you to her like she’s afraid you might still vanish—and maybe a part of you is afraid too. But her grip is real, grounding, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

Abby reacts instantly, her hand gliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as she pulls you deeper into her. The kiss changes, sharpens. From a question to an answer. From want to need.

You feel the heat of her body press flush against yours, her chest against your own, the contact dizzying in its intensity. She tastes like mint and something more—something wild and reckless, like the edge of something dangerous, something you didn’t know you needed until right now.

The kiss turns urgent. Desperate. Like you’re both trying to make up for every second wasted pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

Abby backs you up until your spine meets the edge of the counter, the cold granite biting into your skin, a jarring contrast to the fire catching between your bodies. You moan softly into her mouth, the sound swallowed by her lips, and she groans in response—a low, rough sound that vibrates through your chest and straight down your spine.

Her hands slip lower, slow and deliberate, testing the edges of your waistband before settling on your hips. She pulls you against her with intent, with heat, grinding you into the shape of her body like she’s carving you there.

And in that moment, it doesn’t matter that you’re still in someone’s kitchen at a party you didn’t want to come to. It doesn’t matter who’s in the next room or what excuses are waiting on your phone.

All that matters is her.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” Abby breathes against your lips, voice rough, thick with something primal.

You don’t deny it. You don’t want to.

You don’t answer, can’t answer, because she’s already slipping her hand underneath your shirt, her fingertips grazing the soft skin of your stomach, sending shivers through you. You arch into her touch, your mind clouded, your body responding to her in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Her lips trail down your neck, kissing a path toward your collarbone, and you can’t help but moan softly, threading your fingers into her hair to guide her closer. Abby’s hands are everywhere—on your hips, your waist, your back—and you feel like you might just crumble under her touch, the intensity of it stealing your breath away.

But before you can get too lost in the moment, Abby pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breath heavy.

“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice low, almost a growl, like a predator checking if its prey is willing.

You blink, struggling to clear the haze in your mind. The answer is there, pulsing in the back of your throat, but the question feels so out of place, considering how badly you want this.

“I’m done waiting,” you whisper, voice shaky but resolute.

Abby’s lips curve into a wicked grin, and she nods, her eyes dark and focused on you. She leans in to kiss you again, but this time, it’s more deliberate, more controlled. She wants to take her time with you, savoring every second.

As her lips crash against yours once more, you know there’s no turning back now. Whatever boundaries you had left, whatever morals or hesitation, have already melted away in the heat of this moment.

And just as you feel yourself sinking deeper into the world Abby is pulling you into, her hand slides to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slowly, her fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Upstairs," she murmurs against your lips, voice thick with need. "Right now."

You don’t hesitate. Grabbing your jacket from the back of the counter, you take her hand.

Abby’s hand tightens around yours as she leads you through the sea of bodies, her grip steady and possessive, pulling you away from the kitchen and deeper into the maze of the house. The music pulses louder as you pass through rooms, the air thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and cheap cologne, but none of it matters.

Not when she’s so close, her body brushing against yours with every step, every shared glance that makes your stomach flip.

You can feel her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and you’re so close now, your senses overwhelmed by her presence. As you reach a quieter hallway at the back of the house, Abby doesn’t slow down. She pulls you into a room at the end, one that’s been abandoned by the partygoers, a cozy little study filled with mismatched furniture and the dim glow of a single lamp in the corner.

The door shuts behind you with a soft thud, and the moment the latch clicks, Abby doesn’t waste any time. She spins you toward her, her lips capturing yours in a kiss so intense that it leaves you breathless. The quiet of the room is a stark contrast to the chaos outside, and every kiss, every touch between you both feels amplified in the stillness.

Abby’s hands roam freely now, sliding down your sides and over your hips as if she can’t get enough. She pulls you closer, her chest pressing against yours, and you feel the heat of her body in the way she holds you—firm, urgent, like she’s afraid you might slip away.

You respond with equal hunger, your hands finding their way to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair. She lets out a soft groan when you tug her closer, and you revel in the sound. The tension between you two is palpable, thick in the air like static before a storm, and you can’t think about anything else but her.

“You’ve got me all to yourself now,” Abby murmurs against your lips, her voice a low, husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod, your own words stuck in your throat. All that’s left is the pull of her, the heat that rises between you both like wildfire.

Without another word, Abby’s hands move to the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward with a slow, deliberate motion that has your heart racing. The cool air brushes against your skin, and you shiver in anticipation, watching her eyes darken with something raw and intense as she takes in every inch of you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she mutters, her voice thick with desire, and you can’t help the rush of heat that floods your cheeks at her words. You’ve never heard her sound like this before—this unguarded, this raw. It makes something inside you ache in a way you didn’t expect.

You step forward, closing the distance between you as you slide your hands under the edge of her jacket, lifting it off her shoulders and tossing it aside. The fabric of her shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you feel the heat of her skin as you press against her, feeling the outline of her muscles as your hands move lower, exploring.

Abby’s breath hitches when your hands graze over her waist, her lips finding yours again, hungry and frantic now. The kiss is full of promises you both don’t need to say out loud, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a thread pulling tighter and tighter.

The urgency in the air heightens, and every touch, every movement feels like it’s pushing you both closer to the edge. She guides you toward the couch in the corner of the room, but you don’t quite make it before your hands are on her again, pushing her against the nearest wall.

“Abby,” you gasp, voice breaking with a mix of desire and need.

She smirks, her lips curling into something wicked as she presses herself against you again, this time with more force. “I’ve got you now,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear, “and I’m not letting you go.”

Before you can respond, Abby’s hands slide firmly around your thighs, and with a sudden, dizzying movement, she lifts you. Your legs instinctively wrap around her waist as she carries you with ease, like your weight is nothing—like she’s meant to hold you. Her grip is strong, steady, and the muscles in her arms flex with every step as she strides toward the couch across the room.

You cling to her, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, your fingers tangling in the collar of her shirt. “Abby—”

She cuts you off with a kiss—slow at first, savoring it, like she wants to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of your skin, the sound you make when her lips graze yours just so. But it doesn’t stay slow for long.

By the time she lowers you to the couch, her body follows, pressing you down with a heat that makes your skin burn in the best way. Her mouth stays on yours, hungry now, claiming. Her tongue slips past your lips with a confident tilt of her head, and you moan into her before you even realize you’re doing it.

She swallows the sound like it’s a reward—grinning against your kiss as her hands trail down your sides, fingers mapping the curve of your waist with purpose. She presses her hips into yours, grinding slow and deep, and your back arches off the cushions in response, your breath catching in your throat.

Her hands roam lower, gripping your hips with firm purpose, then sliding up beneath your shirt again, this time with no hesitation. She breaks the kiss just long enough to tug it over your head and toss it somewhere over her shoulder. Her own comes off just as quick—revealing toned muscle and the kind of sculpted softness that makes your breath catch.

You stare for a beat, eyes raking over her, lips parted.

“Eyes up here,” she teases, breathless but grinning, and leans down to kiss along your jaw, down your neck, her hands anchoring your hips like she’s claiming them. “Or don’t. I kind of like the way you look at me.”

You barely manage to bite back a whimper as her teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and your hands find the curve of her back, nails digging in when she grinds her hips down into yours.

“Abs…” you whisper, but there’s no question in your voice—just need.

Her voice is a low growl at your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

She hums in approval, kissing down the slope of your collarbone. “Then lie back, baby,” she says, one hand already guiding you down again with firm, gentle pressure. “And let me take care of everything.”

And you do—because her weight between your thighs, her hands on your body, her mouth claiming yours over and over—it’s the first time you’ve felt wanted in so long.

And Abby doesn’t just want you.

She knows exactly what to do with you.

The push of her thigh between your legs has a moan coming from your mouth that is nothing but desperate. Clearly enough that it causes that wicked smirk to come back to her lips as she leans over you more, gently grinding the muscle against your core as you mutter a low ‘fuck’ as your brain short circuits from the small action.

Her smirk deepens as she watches the way your breath stutters, how your hips instinctively roll against her thigh. Abby leans in, her lips brushing your temple before trailing a slow, deliberate path back down to your neck. She presses a kiss just beneath your jaw, then another, softer one at the hollow of your throat. “You’re so responsive,” she murmurs, voice low and full of pride. “I barely touch you and you’re already trembling.”

You are, and there’s no point in denying it. Your body feels like it’s caught fire—heat blooming at every point where her skin touches yours.

The steady grind of her thigh is both grounding and electrifying, like a steady beat beneath the chaos. And Abby? She’s completely in control. Patient, confident, like she’s been waiting to have you like this and she’s going to take her time now that you’re here. One of her hands slips under you, sliding along the small of your back, the warmth of her palm sending a fresh ripple of sensation up your spine.

 The other brushes up your side, fingers tracing the curve of your ribcage before splaying out across your chest, over your racing heart. She looks down at you like she’s taking a mental snapshot, something she wants to burn into her memory. “You’re beautiful like this,” she says softly, the heat in her eyes belying the gentleness of her voice.

Your fingers clutch at her shoulders, dragging her down for another kiss—messier now, fueled by everything swirling between you. Abby leans into it, one hand slipping down, finding the waistband of your jeans with practiced ease. She works the button open, her touch confident but unrushed, like she wants to savor every second.

The zipper gives with a soft sound, and she eases the denim down your hips, eyes never leaving yours as she does. Her gaze lingers, hungry and reverent all at once, like unwrapping a gift she’s waited too long to hold.

Abby doesn’t pause—doesn’t need to. The way your body reacts, the way your breath catches under her touch, is all the answer she needs. Her mouth finds yours again, deeper this time, less like a kiss and more like a claim. You melt into it, fingers threading through her hair as she presses closer, one hand keeping your bodies flush while the other explores every inch of skin she can reach.

“You drive me crazy,” she growls against your lips, her voice rough and low like it’s been dragged over gravel. “Been thinking about this—about you—way too long.”

You can feel it in the way her fingers grip your side, in how her lips move along your jaw, down your throat, like she’s trying to map every inch of you by memory. Every breath is heavier now, laced with tension that’s been building for far too long. The couch creaks beneath you as she shifts, her knee nudging yours apart just slightly, just enough to steal your breath.

Her mouth trails lower, leaving a trail of heat behind, and her hands never stop moving—firm, sure, and undeniably hers. You arch into her instinctively, your head tipping back with a quiet gasp as your hands tug her closer, needing more.

“Just like that,” Abby murmurs, a crooked grin tugging at her lips as she watches you fall apart beneath her touch. “Look at you.”

Your eyes flutter open just enough to catch the way she’s looking at you—like you’re something rare and burning, something she's wanted for longer than she’d ever admit. That look alone sends another shiver down your spine.

She leans down, lips brushing your ear, breath warm and wild. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

And just like that, she’s slipping from your grasp—her hands sliding down, thumbs catching the edge of your underwear as she eases it away. Every movement is unhurried and deliberate. Her mouth doesn’t stop for a second—leaving soft, lingering kisses along your neck, across the curve of your chest, down your stomach. Each one lights a spark under your skin, and by the time she settles between your thighs, you’re already breathless.

Her eyes meet yours—dark, intense, unwavering. “Just like that, baby,” she murmurs, her voice all velvet and fire, “keep your eyes on me.”

The way she’s looking at you… it’s too much and not enough all at once. Like she’s reading every unspoken word etched into your bones, every need you’ve barely admitted to yourself. Her grip tightens on the backs of your thighs, anchoring you, steadying you, and when her breath fans across your weeping cunt, a shiver rocks through you. The sound that escapes your lips is a tangled mess of a gasp and a curse, and her fingers only press deeper, holding you in place.

Then she leans in, and the first press of her mouth to your pussy pulls a ragged cry from your throat. “F–fuck, Abs—” But she doesn’t relent. She doesn't even pause.

Her tongue moves with intention, slow and devastating, tasting every inch of you. Every glide, every flick, every swirl against your clit builds you higher, and there’s no room left in your chest for anything but the sounds she draws from you.

The low sound that rumbles from her throat when she sinks deeper sends another tremor through you. She presses closer, one strong arm sliding beneath you to keep you right where she wants you. You’re gasping now, hips jerking, chasing the rhythm she’s setting—your body flushed with heat, your legs starting to tremble.

And then she hums—just a little—and it sends a jolt through your cunt, right to the base of your spine. Your hands find her hair, fingers twisting tight, a plea caught in your breath as your eyes squeeze shut.

It’s happening so fast—and you feel it building, barreling toward something you can’t stop. And maybe you don’t want to.

Because it’s not just her mouth.

It’s what she sees.

It’s the way she shows up.

It’s the way she touches you like you matter, like your pleasure isn’t an obligation, but something she craves—something she’s been waiting to give you from the second you started settling for less.

Your boyfriend hasn’t looked at you like this in months. Hasn’t listened. Hasn’t asked what you need. And when he does touch you, it’s half-there, distracted, like he’s checking off a box, not trying to feel you. Not like this.

Not like Abby.

Abby, who’s on her knees for you like she worships at the altar of your body. Abby, who doesn’t need to be asked twice. Abby, who touches you like she’s making up for every lonely night, every unanswered message, every time you told yourself, “This is just what relationships are sometimes.”

Her lips seal tighter, tongue circling with a purpose that makes your toes curl. You gasp, broken and breathless. And then she slides a finger into you—slow and full and just right—and your back arches off the couch like a current’s shot through your spine.

“Abby, please,” you manage, voice barely a whisper, frayed and desperate. “I’m so close.”

She doesn’t stop. If anything, she doubles down. She knows your body like she’s memorized it in dreams, and now she’s playing every part like a symphony rising to its crescendo.

Your thighs tighten around her shoulders, your hands gripping her as you fall apart with her name on your lips, everything crashing through you in waves.

“I’m gonna cum—oh fuck, Abby—”

The first crest hits you and then everything else after that is lost in the chaos. You lose track of everything—where you are, what you are, who you are—you only exist as a bundle of nerve endings, every single one firing all at once and your entire world turns white.

Somewhere in the distance you hear Abby moan, a sound so filthy it might have pushed you over the edge all over again if your body wasn't already wrung out, your chest heaving, your lungs burning.

Your legs fall open, sliding off her shoulders, limp.

Abby wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and then crawls up next to you, wrapping you in her arms, a kiss pressed to your forehead. Your head falls back against the arm of the couch, your hands slipping from her hair as you try to remember how to breathe.

"Fuck," you sigh, your eyes still closed.

Her hand settles on your knee, thumb brushing along the line of your thigh. "I think that's the most I've heard you swear," she murmurs, the sound of her voice and the warmth of her palm against your skin making it impossible not to open your eyes.

"That's because it's the best I've ever had," you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Abby doesn't even bother trying to hide her grin, preening at the sentence. But she also doesn't just let the energy between you settle. "Told you, I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else." She said, before one hand was wondering up your chest and the other one was lowering down your thigh again.

You can't help but shudder, the promise in her voice alone enough to get you riled up all over again. "You're really not wasting any time," you laugh, but when her fingertips slip between your folds again, you're the one who shudders.

"Not when I've been thinking about this for far too long," she replies, her fingers sliding deep, and you have no choice but to give yourself over to her.

Abby doesn't hold anything back. And you're more than willing to meet her head-on.

By the time she eases back, the room is thick with the sounds of you falling apart, the air hot and heavy. There's a faint sheen of sweat across her shoulders, and her lips are swollen, cheeks flushed.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," the words fall from your lips without thought, and her answering grin is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

She leans in, and when her mouth covers yours, the taste of you lingering on her tongue, a shiver runs down your spine. "Not as gorgeous as you are," she whispers, before her mouth is moving down your neck, fingers tugging the cup of your bra down before latching around your left nipple.

"Oh fuck!" You hiss, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh, the sharp pain melting into pleasure.

She takes her time, alternating between rough bites and soothing licks, her hand sliding up and down your side, her thumb grazing the swell of your breast. Then her mouth is gone, her hand is also gone from you, wrapping around the back of your thigh, spreading you open.

"Look at you, so ready for me," Abby murmurs, her eyes drinking you in. "Really should have taken you out of here, bet you would look even better takin' my strap."

The mere thought of it is enough to make your thighs tremble, and her responding grin is sinful. "Oh, you like that idea, huh?"

"Yes," the word rushes out of you in a breathless rush, and her hand squeezes your thigh.

"Next time, baby," she promises, and then she's lowering herself back down, and her mouth is everywhere.

The slide of her tongue, the nip of her teeth, the warmth of her breath—it's intoxicating, and it's only a matter of moments before you're falling apart again, a hoarse cry slipping from your lips.

You don't even notice she's stopped until her hands slide down your thighs, soothing you. It takes a moment for you to regain the ability to speak, and by the time you've got your eyes open, she's leaning over you, her hair falling around her shoulders.

"Hey," her voice is gentle, a crooked smile curling her lips. "You with me?"

"Yeah," the word falls from you in a slow exhale, and her smile grows.

"Good," She mumbled, her eyes looking over your features. The sound of the party can be heard faintly through the door, but all you can do is look at her. Practically fully clothed besides that black sports bra clinging to her chest, Abby towers over you like a storm still crackling with lightning. Her jeans ride low on her hips, the muscles in her stomach flexing with each slow, controlled breath, and there’s something in her eyes that makes your pulse spike all over again—hunger, satisfaction, and just a hint of smugness.

Her braid’s messy now, strands of gold clinging to her flushed skin, and her chest glistens faintly with sweat. She’s never looked more raw, more dangerous, more real. Every inch of her is tense with heat and control, like she could devour you all over again if she wanted to—and God, you want her to.

Abby braces herself on either side of your head, arms trembling slightly from restraint. Her eyes flick over your face like she’s memorizing every expression you’ve made—every breathless whimper, every broken plea. She dips her head, brushing her lips along your jaw, the ghost of a smile curving into something darker.

“You’re a fucking dream like this,” she mutters, low and rough, voice rasping like it’s been dragged through fire. “Can’t believe I get to be the one to wreck you like that.”

You shift beneath her, hands gliding up her sides, mapping out the lean definition of her torso. Every breath she takes is steady, but you can feel the tension still thrumming in her body—like she’s barely holding herself together.

Then you move, catching her off-guard. With a quick twist and a shove, Abby lets out a low grunt as you flip her onto her back against the couch cushions, her braid falling across the armrest, her legs bent awkwardly before she relaxes into the plush seat with a laugh—surprised, breathless, and completely at your mercy.

You straddle her thighs, palms pressed to her chest, and lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“It’s my turn now.” You whisper, voice low and rough with want.

Abby’s smirk falters, just barely. Her eyes search yours, pupils blown wide, and she licks her lips, her chest rising faster beneath the cling of her sports bra. One of her hands grips your thigh, tight, anchoring herself as if she’s trying to brace for what’s next.

There’s still heat in her gaze—always—but now it’s tinged with anticipation, curiosity, a rare flicker of surrender.

You roll your hips forward slowly, deliberately, and her breath catches in her throat.

“I want to ruin you back,” you murmur, eyes locked on hers. “Want you to feel what I did. Every second.”

Her hand slides up your back, nails scraping lightly through the sweat-slicked skin. “Then take it,” she growls, low and eager. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She lifts her hips, pushing up to meet you, and you grind down into her with a low groan, pressing your body against hers. You bury your face against her throat, mouthing at the damp skin, and she tilts her head back, exposing her neck for you. You bite down, sucking at the soft spot beneath her ear, and she hisses through her teeth, hips rolling into yours, her breath growing ragged.

Your hands move up, tangling in her hair, and she gasps, fingers digging into your hip as you drag your mouth along the curve of her throat, biting, licking, marking her. Abby arches up into you, panting, and the feel of her chest heaving beneath yours is enough to make your toes curl, heat racing along your spine.

Your hands fall to her chest, and you drag the tip of one finger slowly across the edge of her bra. Abby bites her lip, groaning, her eyes fluttering shut.

You drag your palm over the curve of her breast, and she lets out a muffled curse, her other hand clamping down on your waist. Her nipples pebble under your touch, and she arches her back, straining against the fabric.

You smile against her throat.

Your fingers loop into the elastic of her bra, and without needing words she lifts her arms up as you pull it over her head. You toss her bra aside, barely catching the way Abby’s eyes darken as they rake over your face. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, bare now beneath your touch, her skin warm, flushed.

You lean in, kissing just above her heart, then lower still, your lips tracing the line between strength and softness. Her skin is flushed, damp, and hot beneath your mouth, every shift of your touch dragging another breathless sound from her lips.

Your hands move down, slipping past her ribs to the waistband of her jeans. The denim is stiff, rough against your fingers, but you pop the button with a slow flick, dragging the zipper down until it parts with a soft rasp. Abby lifts her hips without hesitation, wordless and eager, her eyes never leaving yours.

You ease the jeans down, the tight fabric clinging to her thighs, then her calves, and finally off her ankles. You toss them aside, and it’s then, as you settle back between her legs, that you see it.

Her underwear are soaked — a dark stain blooming at the center of the thin cotton, clear in the low light. A slick line gleams along the edge where the fabric meets her skin, proof of her arousal along the curve of her inner thigh.

Your thumb drags along the edge of the fabric, tracing the damp line, smearing the evidence of her desire. She smells like heat and sweat and something sweeter, and your mouth waters as your gaze drags up to meet hers.

“Fuck,” you murmur, rough and low.

Abby’s mouth curls into a smirk, flushed cheeks and bright eyes betraying the heat roiling just beneath. “Yeah,” she breathes, voice rough. “That’s for you.”

You kiss the edge of her hip, then move lower with intent. Her thighs tremble under your touch, fingers twisting in a couch pillow, breath catching as you lean close enough to drag your tongue over the front of her underwear, teasing and unhurried.

When your teeth graze her gently through the soaked fabric, she gasps—sharp and broken—and her hips rise into your mouth with instinctual urgency. You slide your hands up her muscular thighs, thumbs hooking into the elastic at her hips.

She lifts herself again, silent but begging, and you don’t keep her waiting. You pull her underwear down slowly, watching the wet fabric stretch before slipping free. The scent of her hits you — heady, sweet, and utterly intoxicating.

You press another kiss to her bare hip, then glance up. Abby’s eyes are half-lidded, chest heaving, lips parted with anticipation.

She swallows hard. “Come on, baby.”

Your breath fans hot against the inside of her thigh, and she shivers beneath you, the muscles there taut and twitching. You drag your mouth lower, tasting salt and skin and the slick heat she’s drenched in. Your thumbs press gently into the creases of her hips, holding her open, steady, as your tongue finally slips through the soft hair and glides over and dips into her waiting pussy.

Abby chokes on a breath—sharp and desperate—her hips jolting, one hand flying to your shoulder, the other still gripping the pillow in a white-knuckled clutch. You hum against her, slow and deep, the vibration making her gasp again, and you feel the flex of her abs under your hands as her body tries to curl toward your mouth.

“F-fuck,” she stammers, voice cracking, head tipping back into the cushion behind her. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t plan to. You flatten your tongue, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up through her slickness, then in steady, relentless circles, building her up with every flick, every press, every slow drag through the slick heat of her cunt. Abby’s legs tremble around your head, thighs twitching with every pulse of pleasure, and you hold her open, anchored by the grip of your hands at her hips, the flex of muscle under your fingers.

She’s soaked—utterly dripping—and you can feel it coating your mouth, your chin, the skin by her thighs now slick with it as she writhes beneath you. You moan into her, the sound low and full, and she lets out a cry that cuts off sharp as her back bows off the couch.

“God—” she gasps, breath hitched, eyes squeezed shut. “Your mouth—fuck, your mouth feels so good—”

You hum again, lapping at her with rougher strokes now, your pace no longer teasing but hungry. Abby’s hands are in your hair, gripping hard, hips grinding against your face, chasing every movement you make. When you suck her clit between your lips and flick it with your tongue, she lets out a strangled whimper, thighs clamping down for half a second before you press her open again.

You glance up, just to watch her fall apart. Her lips are parted, glistening with spit, her chest heaving, sweat gleaming along her collarbone and between her breasts. She looks wrecked—utterly undone—and you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Please,” she pants, voice barely a whisper now. “Please don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t.

You slide one hand from her hip, dragging your fingers down the trail of soft hair under her belly button, guiding over the hair between her thighs, circling lower until you find her entrance. She’s soaked, your fingers sliding in with ease, and she jerks with a sharp inhale, her whole body tightening. You curl your fingers just right, tongue and hand working in perfect rhythm, and the sound she makes is almost guttural.

“Jesus—fuck—!” Abby’s voice breaks, breathless and high, her hand slapping against the couch cushions as her other grips your arm like a lifeline. Her thighs are trembling violently now, her hips stuttering, bucking.

She’s so close.

You feel it in the way she clenches around your fingers, the way her moans lose all rhythm, the way her nails dig in as though she’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.

And when her whole body locks beneath you, when her moan turns strangled and her back arches off the couch—you want every second of it.

You press your fingers deeper, curling them just right, and suck harder, flicking your tongue in tight, ruthless circles. Abby lets out a sob of a sound, hips jerking up into your face, and you feel the pulse of her around your fingers—a deep, clenching rhythm that starts low in her belly and ripples outward like a wave crashing through her.

She’s coming. Hard.

Her thighs clamp around your head, trembling with every pulse. Her nails rake down your back, not gentle, not careful, but desperate—anchoring herself to something as her body breaks open around the pleasure. She gasps for breath, her voice caught somewhere between a moan and a curse, chest heaving like she can’t quite get enough air.

“F-fuck—oh my God—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

You don’t. You keep going, pushing her through it, over and over, licking her like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted on your tongue. Her legs are shaking now, uncontrollably, her whole body trembling with aftershocks that just won’t quit, her hips twitching with every stroke of your tongue, every curl of your fingers still buried inside her.

And then—finally—she collapses.

Her body goes slack all at once, like the tension’s been wrung out of her completely. She sinks back into the cushions, chest rising and falling in shallow, stuttering breaths, one hand falling from your shoulder to rest limply on her stomach. Her skin glows, flushed and glistening with sweat, and there’s a dazed, bliss-drunk look in her eyes as she blinks down at you.

You slowly withdraw your fingers, licking them clean as she watches with parted lips, too wrecked to do anything but breathe.

You press soft kisses to her inner thighs, then climb up her body, your mouth tracing the path of her sweat-slick skin until you're hovering just above her. Her arms slide around your shoulders instinctively, pulling you close, and when your lips meet hers, she moans against your mouth.

“Jesus,” she breathes, still trembling, her voice barely a whisper, yet so full of raw honesty. You can feel the slight shudder that runs through her as she pulls you closer, her fingers threading into your hair, as though she never wants to let go.

You settle next to her, propped up on an elbow, and gently cradle her against your chest. She’s warm and pliant in your arms, skin still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure, her breathing gradually slowing as the moments stretch out in peaceful silence.

You press a kiss to her forehead, letting your lips linger there for a moment, then to the tip of her nose, and finally down to her lips, tasting the softness of her, savoring the sweetness of her kiss.

“Are you okay?” you murmur, brushing a strand of damp hair off her face. Your hand rests on her cheek, tender, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile quiet that’s settled between you.

She nods slowly, her eyes still half-closed, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Better than okay,” she whispers, her voice thick with satisfaction. “That was better than any dream I’ve had of you,” she says, eyes glowing with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

The words settle in your chest like a gentle weight, making your heart thump just a little harder than before. You press your lips to her forehead again, feeling the warmth of her skin under yours, the pulse of her heart still racing, but slowing.

“Glad I could make it better than anything you’ve imagined,” you murmur, your voice hushed with the quiet intimacy of the moment. You tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture gentle, almost reverent, as though you don’t want to disturb the peace between you.

Abby lets out a small, contented sigh, curling into you just a little more, her fingers still stroking over your skin in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I didn’t know anything could be this... perfect.”

You chuckle softly, your chest vibrating with the sound. “We’ve got time to see if we can top it.” Your words are light, teasing, but there’s something in your voice that promises more — more time, more closeness, more moments like this.

Her lips curl into a soft grin, a small, playful spark returning to her eyes despite the exhaustion hanging on her. “I’ll hold you to that,” she whispers, her hand drifting back to your side, tracing the curve of your ribs, the feeling of her touch so familiar now, like a rhythm you’ve always known.

As the quiet settles between you, Abby’s fingers continue their slow exploration of your skin, the touch soothing, grounding. But then, after a beat, she pulls back just slightly, tilting her head to meet your gaze. There’s a shift in her eyes, something that’s been building in the subtle movements, in the way she watches you like you’re both caught in a secret, shared between the two of you.

She clears her throat, her voice now low but filled with a quiet, vulnerable intensity. “I’ve been thinking…” she starts, her words softer, but heavier, like she’s working her way up to something important.

You lift an eyebrow, your heart picking up a beat at the change in her tone. You sit up slightly, giving her your full attention. “Yeah?” you mumble gently, a part of you already knowing where this is going.

Abby takes a breath, her gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, then back again. “I don’t think you should stay with him,” she says, her words deliberate but filled with raw honesty. “Not when you could be with me.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment, thick and charged with an unspoken promise. You stare at her, the weight of the moment slowly sinking in. She doesn’t say it in an angry or demanding way — there’s no rush, no pressure in her voice. She just sounds... sure. So sure, like she’s been thinking about this for a while, and she wants you to hear her, really hear her.

“Abby…” you start, but she holds up a hand, stopping you before you can say more.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice tender but full of longing. “I’m not asking you to drop everything overnight. But I think you deserve better than what you have right now. I think you deserve someone who’s gonna make you feel like you’re the only one in the world. And... I want that to be me.”

You feel your breath catch, her words slowly winding through your chest, tightening with every beat. You can see it in her eyes — the vulnerability, the hope, the desire — and you realize, in this moment, she’s asking for something more than just this night. She’s asking for you, all of you, not as an option, but as someone who could choose her, choose this.

“I think I could be happy with you, Abby,” you finally say, your voice steady but full of emotion. Your heart is pounding, the reality of it all settling in as you look at her, knowing she’s speaking the truth. There’s no denying the chemistry, the pull between you — it’s been there from the start, only now, it’s deeper, more real.

Abby smiles softly, her eyes lighting up with a mix of relief and hope, like she’s been holding her breath, waiting for you to finally say it. “So…” she trails off, her fingers brushing over your cheek, a playful glint in her eyes. “Will you break up with your boyfriend? And be mine, officially?”

The question lingers in the air, sweet and simple, but it feels like the start of something new. The kind of thing you can’t take back — and for the first time, you realize you don’t want to.

You smile back at her, heart full, the weight of the world suddenly feeling lighter. “I think I already am,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to cup her face, drawing her closer.

And as your lips meet again, slow and tender this time, you know without a doubt — this is just the beginning. Notes:

A/N: This is my first time writing a smut between two characters. Critique would be hugely appreciated ! Literally based off the song 'Boyfriend' by Dove Cameron

[caladriusposts]

people in my dr ! Pt.1

⋆｡°Ochako Uraraka (from someone who’s both her best friend and affiliated with her romantically)

⭑.ᐟ her cheeks and knuckles are naturally blushed giving her such a soft look especially with her brown eyes (they’re hazelnut brown with hazel highlights btw). you can she's blushing when her nose,ears and neck flush too and something I noticed that under her eyes also gets red and it makes it look like she's crying got so worried the first time that happened especially when she started floating away THE WINDOW WAS OPEN AND SHE ALMOST FLOATED OUT OF IT.

⭑.ᐟher hair floats and it looks like she has horns when she’s bashful it’s SO SO ADORABLE she always tries to tame it but ends up ruffling it and its even a bigger mess.when her hair got longer her ends started to curl up and some even started making heart shapes i was WEAK seeing that (and figured i had to stop her from floating out another window)

It mostly happens when she’s confessing something or says something without thinking and she realizes what she said it’s fun to wait until she covers her mouth and hides her face in her hands its soo ♡ she looks like a chipmunk

⭑.ᐟ Has a closed eyed smile and jumps a little when she gets what she wants/wins the argument AND DONT GET ME STARTED AT HOW SWEET SHE IS WHEN SHE GETS HER FAVORITE FOOD literally perks up and her eyes visibly shine .

Sometimes when she gets too happy she grips my shoulders and shakes me and starts jumping. learned the only was to stop is by jumping with her in circles but she has a tendency to step on people's feet HELP

⭑.ᐟ when she drops stuff when her quirk she puffs her cheeks or purses her lips making a fish like sound, or more like a bubble?? i cant explain it well but its so cute and sometimes she goes "bonk" but it sounds more of a "bawn" cause its in one go / a mutter her breath

She also separates her hands slowly when saying it i really hope you guys are getting the vision cause it's such a quirk of hers,she says "boom" if she's teamed up with Kats cause they have this move where she floats stuff,drops them and before they hit the ground he uses his quirk

⭑.ᐟ Her favorite hobby is jumping on me whenever i am doing something and calling me a wuss if i drop us,so far i slammed into a table,my desk,the fridge and broke houndog's mug.all this trouble cause she likes how my wings wrap themselves around her in panic (besides her loving to keep me on my toes) SHE COULD JUST ASK BUT NOOO

She gotta accept that I am old and can't keep up with that my shoulder is screaming from how heavy her boots are (whatever my girl wants she gets)

⭑.ᐟ one time she was staring and playing around with my fangs and poked herself when she pressed her thumb against them then blamed me for it,i tried to bite her finger forreal after that but i got launched off the couch.SHE'S SO MEAN.

she also pushes my cheeks together when i say something dumb or lightly taps my face twice then squeezes while looking so disappointed,I tried to flip her when she did that once but l ended up pinned down again WHEN WILL I GET MY JUSTICE MY FACE ALWAYS HURTS AFTER HER PINCHES

⭑.ᐟ she has naturally dark eyelashes looks like she has mascara on besides her lower lashes have a brownish tint ITS SO CUTE AND HER BEOWN EYELINER FOR WORK MAKES HER LOOK SO AUGHHH IT FITS HER SM

⭑.ᐟ Her chubby cheeks give her such a baby face. her and izuku have such squeezable faces i genuinely get cuteness aggression if i stared at them too long i bit their cheeks far too many times.

As doe faced as both of them are it goes out of the window when they're on the field i swear they age she has such a different vibe when we're on missions and she's so smart and such a quirk thinker we worked together on rescue missions for years i am sad I wont have any with her anymore since I stopped on field work but at least we have shared classes together that's smth fixed.

⭑.ᐟ one time she ran up to me after a mission for a hug and we fell off the stairs from the impact of her jump but she used her quirk last minute and it made me feel funny it felt like i was on a trampoline I was giggling that's one of my favorite stunts of hers

She's not always a hugger but when she is good luck getting out of her grip i feel like my ribs get squeezed .

⏦ﾟ♡︎

- Post graduation crumbs

can pick both me and izuku which kinda freaks me out cause IZUKU IS SO FUCKING HEAVY AND SHE CAN PICK HIM UP ON HER SHOULDER?? WHILE HAVING ME IN HER ARMS SO CASUALLY.its so attractive but oh myy.

⭑.ᐟ

one time I saw her dragging katsuki by the collar with his gear and grenades on (while holding her bag in the other arm btw) when i was walking out of my office, weirdly enough that became normal occurrence really quickly and he gave up resisting LMAO

⭑.ᐟ

Randomly seen carrying around stuff esp if one of her/our shared classes have rescue training,one time she had a brick??i didnt even wanna ask.

another it was the comically large fish net momo made to catch me back in first year training with shoto AND SHE ACTUALLY RAN AFTER ME WITH IT CAUSE APPARENTLY THE STUDENTS SHOULD EXPECT ANYTHING AND THAT COUNTS THEIR TEACHER GETTING CHASED WITH A FISH NET.the whole thing was me and the poor poor kids trying not to get caught in the net and FLOATED AWAY INTO A BOX with another class trying to save us (she caught all 40 students and me (T ^ T).

⭑.ᐟ

talking about how she just walks around with stuff and people one time we saw her carrying a student WITH THEIR DESK to nezu’s office since they didn’t wanna get up thinking she’ll let whatever they did slide😭they looked so dumbfounded and mouthed a help me but not my student not my business,I am sorry I wouldn’t even try to reason with her in this situation.

⭑.ᐟ

Used to make flower crows as a kid and she taught me how cause i forgot and grew up with a certain someone eating flowers (katsuki),whenever i fell asleep in the park i woke up to flowers in my hair and a shit ton of pictures our friends took but one time i woke up to denki helping her and putting one in my mouth I WAS SO MAD CAUSE WHAT IF I SWALLOWED THAT.

fast forward a few years and whenever i fell asleep on my desk at work i wake up with a flower in my hair,a daisy most of times :) and a semi scolding note saying imma look like a shrimp at the end of the year if I don't stop sitting like one shrimp at the end of the year if I don't stop sitting like one.(・・?)

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Style and preferences !

_This is so random but she's really into freckles and beauty marks,she pokes and counts mine regularly (my three beauty marks that look like a triangle and the one on my knuckle specifically) and found it amusing how izuku's ears were also freckled it's one of her favorite features on us,heh

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆

⭑.ᐟ fruit scents over floral although she has more floral perfumes and body splashes saying it’s more mature/formal for work and events,her favorite scents are mango,strawberry and peach though.

then it turned to her separating the stuff she likes from work and getting fruity perfumes as a way to unwind and use at home (i suggested that after finding 20 plus bottles of stuff she doesn't even like )

⭑.ᐟ takes picking the ones she gets for work so seriously and love narrowing down options but one time she sprayed the tested in my eye.after the third "MY EYE" she told me to hurry up and asked if it smells good or not before it goes out of stock,isn't she just dreamy <3

⭑.ᐟ A turtle neck HATES to see her and the todoroki's coming,ocha and todo have accidentally matched a few times and she looks so good every time.i was happy seeing her wear that in the epilogue.

she also likes wearing boots i thought it was her being used to her hero costume but its more of a fashion statement,she said that her kicks hurt harder with them and that was..! yeah i didn't walk infront of her for a while.she likes gloves and arm/leg warmers too she has a pair of leg warmers that have her agency logo dangling from them (≧∀≦)

⭑.ᐟ loves sweetheart dresses and wearing bows and hair bands to match,especially flower based ones i was reeling when i found out she likes flowers cause i am a floral nerd and kept matching the flower based stuff i got her based on the occasion.we matched in graduation with rea, maru lilly and akemi <3 (two cr scripted friends if you guys are reading this hello i love you and one is an oc but its weird calling her that now)

⭑.ᐟ has a phone bracelet (i forgot its name) that me and katsuki made her cause when she smiles while texting ans taps the phone with her fingers unconsciously with her pinky.it has strawberry and a vanilla ice cream with sprinkles charm

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Bonus ᝰ.ᐟ

I LOVE how her mind works she's my inspo for the world building in my fantasy dr when it comes to some stuff, and scenarios l want to happen.

I remember how she had a whole plot of how everyone would end up getting to know to eachother and we had a path together its super duper cute and i cant wait to go on the silly adventures with her in my fantasy dr that she told me about that one time i couldn't sleep cause my wound hurt, think about that memory a lot it was nice and got my mind off what happened (T ^ T)

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In the vigilante are her speech was a little different from canon cause of conductive events and she was looking straight at me at some part i felt like my heart was gonna burst,she was always nervous about public speaking i was (still am) so proud of her back then i sent seelie to nuzzle her cheek slightly when-she was still holding the microphone and she just smiled at me and I smiled back slightly. It was one on those moments where I got the saving people with a smile thing that I never took the class seriously when it came to, watching her grow and have her own identity of heroism was such a surreal experience and i am so grateful to be close to someone as genuine as ochako be being there when she recognized that she genuinely wants to save people would forever be on my mind cause i didn't really have a deep rooted reason for my heroism and i thought it would stay that way but she made me realize that i just needed time to figure it out,she just cares so much and that day made another part of her journey click to me l don't know she has a way of saying and doing things it's so her and she's so incredible

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆ thank you so much for reading if you read all of this <3

[shelovesosa]

PRETTY WHEN WE FIGHT

PAIRING: punk!Choso X Meangirl!reader

CW: brief mentions of sex, enemies with benefits.

SUMMARY!! Y/N is a rich, spoiled mean girl used to getting what she wants. Choso is a rebellious punk star who’s her worst enemy — and unexpected lover. What starts as a fiery enemies-with-benefits game quickly spirals into jealousy, secrets, and feelings they both try to deny.

(Mean girls collection masterlist here!)

There were two types of people who walked into Takamine Academy: those who owned the world and those who scraped for crumbs beneath its velvet-covered tables. You belonged to the first. You made sure everyone knew it.

Black SUV. Custom-tinted windows. Your driver stepped out before you even touched the door. He opened it with a slight bow, and you slipped out in Louboutins like your feet had never known uneven concrete.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said politely.

“Is it?” you asked with a light yawn, adjusting your Chanel shades. “I guess we’ll see if the peasants can entertain me today.”

You weren't exaggerating. The school courtyard buzzed with life—uniforms, whispered gossip, the smell of burnt espresso from the student-run café. Your entrance was like clockwork. Heads turned. Girls smirked or stiffened. Boys fumbled their coffee lids.

And you drank it in like it was your birthright.

Someone whispered your name too loud, probably on purpose. You smiled like a knife and waved like a queen, already bored. You didn’t need to try. You didn’t even need to speak. Your presence was enough to tilt the room on its axis. You were the glittering storm cloud everyone was too scared to touch.

Then you saw him. Choso. Leaned against the campus fence like a punk rock statue sculpted out of bad ideas. Black jeans ripped at the knees, combat boots scuffed to hell, and a leather jacket you knew he hadn’t taken off in two years. He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear, a heavy chain around his neck, and a chipped ring on every other finger.

He didn’t look at you. He never did—until you looked first. And like always, you regretted it instantly. Because his gaze slid to you with that crooked smirk, a little amused, a little predatory, like he could see through the layers of brand names and carefully curated indifference. Like he knew the real you beneath the gloss and venom.

“Nice tantrum yesterday,” he called out, voice smooth like ash and sin.

You didn’t slow down. You didn’t have to. He’d come to you.

“You’d cry too if your stylist showed up twenty minutes late,” you replied, deadpan, lips glossed a soft pink. “Not that you’d know. You still dress like you’ve been dragged behind a truck.”

He chuckled. “Aw, princess. You say that like you weren’t clawing at my shirt last night.”

Your steps faltered. Just for a moment. A flicker.

Last night had been a blur of loud music, strobe lights, and drinks too strong to remember fully but not strong enough to forget. You remembered Club Necra. You remembered the way the walls vibrated with music. You remembered his voice in your ear — low, dark, familiar — before he dragged you into the back hallway and—

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, masking it with a smile as your heels clicked back into pace. “I was drunk. And bored. You’re a charity case I happen to use when my battery’s dead.”

Choso grinned, pushing off the fence like he had all the time in the world.

“You called me, sweetheart. Three times. Begged me to come get you. Remember what you said?”

You whirled on him. “Shut the hell up.”

“Say please.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to kiss him. You hated him. And you hated how much he knew it.

Later, during class, you sat by the window like the light only belonged to you. You twirled your pen between your fingers, trying not to think about the way Choso had looked at you—like he wanted to ruin you slowly.

You had a boyfriend once. Perfect on paper. Legacy family. Polo shirts. He gifted you diamonds and called you baby girl. But he never made you feel like your blood was boiling under your skin.

Choso? He was heat. He was the cigarette burn in a silk dress. The reason you kept bruises hidden beneath your cardigan and told your friends you were just clumsy.

He sat in the back row, sketching lyrics into a notebook he never let anyone see. You could hear the soft scratch of his pen. Could feel his eyes on the back of your neck even when you didn't look.

When the teacher left to grab papers from the copier, your phone buzzed. One message.

Choso:
Tonight. Same place. Don’t wear that fake-ass attitude.

You didn’t respond.
But your thighs pressed together under the table.

The address never changed. It was always the same run-down club tucked between a 24-hour tattoo parlor and a bakery that somehow stayed open despite no one ever being seen inside.

Club Necra. Dark. Loud. Hidden in the bones of a city that was never built for people like you.

The first time you came here, you wore diamonds. You’d laughed when the bouncer looked you up and down like you didn’t belong. You liked that. You liked walking into places that didn’t want you and owning them.

But tonight you didn’t wear diamonds.

You wore a black silk slip dress and a vintage fur coat that smelled faintly of your mother’s perfume and money. Your lips were lined darker than usual. You looked like violence dipped in honey.

And you were late. On purpose. You knew he hated waiting. That was the point.

Inside, the bass pounded like a heartbeat. Neon lights blinked over wet floors and tattooed shoulders. It smelled like sweat, liquor, and smoke. No place for someone like you, which made it the perfect place to find him.

You saw Choso leaning against the DJ booth. Tall. Dark. Lazy-eyed like he hadn’t slept in a week. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing ink spiraling up his collarbone. His lip piercing caught the light when he smirked—at someone that wasn’t you.

Some groupie. Too close. Too comfortable.

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the bar, ignoring him completely. You knew the bartender. He always gave you whatever you wanted before the others.

“White Russian,” you said, drumming your nails on the counter.
“Double?”
“Obviously.”

Behind you, you could feel Choso watching.
Like clockwork. You didn’t turn around. Until his breath ghosted behind your ear.

“You’re two hours late.”


“Busy.”


“Doing what?”


You sipped your drink slowly. “Better people.”

He laughed low and dangerous. “Bet none of them make you scream like I do.”

You turned around with the kind of smile that usually came before a car crash. “Let’s get one thing straight.”

Choso raised an eyebrow, close enough that you could see the little scar under his eye. “Oh? Do we do straight things now?”

You stepped closer. “I use you. Not the other way around. You’re a phase, Choso. Like pastel streaks or dumb trends.”

His hand slid to your waist. Bold. Possessive.
“And yet you keep coming back.”

You hated how good that felt. You hated the warmth curling up your spine when he touched you like he had the right. And yet—

You grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hallway, past flickering EXIT signs and speakers vibrating against the walls. Back to the stairwell no one checked. Same as always.

His mouth was on yours before the door even closed. It was always like this. Anger. Lust. Shame. Need.

He kissed you like a secret. Like he knew you couldn’t afford to be caught. Like you liked it better that way.

“Fucking rich girls,” he muttered against your throat.
“Fucking poor boys,” you replied, pulling him harder against you.

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, chest heaving, mascara smudged, throat raw from moaning his name like a dare.

And he just stood there. Watching you. Like he didn’t hate you. Like he didn’t want to.

“You got your rules?” he asked finally, voice still hoarse.

You met his gaze. Sharp. Cold.
“Yeah.”

You started counting them off on your fingers, sarcasm dripping with every word.

“One — don’t talk to me at school unless it’s to piss me off.
Two — don’t catch feelings. That’s not what this is.
Three — no one finds out.”

He tilted his head. “What about four?”
You paused. “No kissing in public.”
“Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking to your lips.

“You say that like you mean it.”

“I do,” you snapped.

He smirked. “Then why are you always the one pulling me back in?”

You shoved him half-heartedly. “Because your band sucks and you’re good for exactly one thing.”

“You say that,” he said, leaning closer again, “but you stay until sunrise every damn time.”

He wasn’t wrong. You did.

Later that night, when you were lying in his cheap bed with a spring poking your thigh, wrapped in an old hoodie you’d pretend not to steal again, you asked the question you weren’t supposed to.

“Why me?”
Choso turned to you, shadows casting soft lines across his face. “Because you’re the only girl who lies better than I do.”

You didn’t ask anything else. You didn’t need to.

You liked your bruises. The ones he gave you.
The ones no one could see. The ones that lived in the soft skin between your thighs, in the places hidden by silk skirts and smug smiles.

Because bruises meant he still wanted you.
Bruises meant you hadn’t lost your grip.

And control — that’s what this was about. Always had been.

You didn’t love Choso. You wouldn’t even call it like.

It was an itch. A punishment. A game of chicken you were too stubborn to lose. You were a rich girl with blood on your lipstick, and he was a walking sin with chipped nail polish and a voice that made your stomach twist.

You didn’t need him. But you hated the idea of anyone else having him.

So when you saw Reika draped over him behind the club building, laughing at something he said, her chipped black nails sliding down his chest like she had a right— It felt like your vision split open.

You didn’t even know you were moving until your heel clicked too loudly on the concrete. Choso looked up. His body didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened. His smirk faded. Reika turned halfway. Her arm still slung around his neck, like she didn’t see you as a threat.

You smiled. That slow, syrupy, venomous smile the girls at school feared.

“Oh,” you said lightly, “Is this bring-a-rat-to-the club day?”

Reika blinked, laughing through her nose. “You really walk around talking to people like that?”

“Only the ones beneath me,” you replied. “It’s a short list, but congrats. You made it.”

Choso didn’t say anything. He just leaned back against the wall, head tilted, watching you with that calm detachment that always pissed you off more than yelling ever could.

“She’s just being friendly,” he said.

Your eyes never left Reika. “Do I look like someone who wants to share?”

Reika straightened up now, facing you fully. She was maybe your height. Definitely not your class. Her lip was pierced. Her boots were muddy. She had a denim mini-skirt with safety pins down one thigh and a face that dared people to hit her.

“You really think I’m scared of some little rich bitch with daddy’s credit card?”

You stepped forward, close enough that she’d smell your perfume. “No. I think you’re stupid enough to touch something that doesn’t belong to you.”

That was it.

A drink went flying. Someone gasped. Reika lunged. You dodged, nails swiping her arm, catching denim and skin. She shrieked, tried to slap you, and you threw your drink in her face.

Hands were grabbing you both in seconds. Some punk kids. A couple of Choso’s bandmates. You barely registered who pulled you back until Choso’s voice cracked through the air:

“Enough.”

Everyone froze. Even you.

His tone wasn’t angry. It was tired. You hadn’t heard him sound tired with you before. Not like that.

“Y/N,” he said, eyes hard on you, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You blinked. “What am I doing? You let her sit on your lap.”

“We’re not exclusive. You made that very clear.”

“She touched you.”

He looked like he wanted to scream, or maybe hit a wall. “You have a boyfriend every other week. And now you care?”

You felt heat rise in your throat. “That’s different.”

“No. It’s not. You just hate the idea of me wanting someone else.”

“She’s not someone. She’s trash.”

“Yeah?” he snapped. “Then what does that make me?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your chest felt like it was caving in, and you didn’t know why. This wasn’t supposed to matter. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.
You kissed him. Hard. In front of everyone.
His lip was still bleeding. The music from the club blared behind you, and Reika was still standing there, seething. But none of it mattered.

Because when his hand went to your jaw and his mouth crushed yours like it was the last time, the whole world flickered out.

You broke the kiss, panting. Your voice shook. “She doesn’t touch you again.”

Choso stared at you for a long time. And then, low and dangerous:
“Say it.”

You blinked. “Say what?”
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.
“That I’m yours.”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. And that silence was louder than the music.

You ended up in his apartment that night anyway.

His sheets smelled like cigarettes. Your perfume was smeared all over his hoodie. There was a cut on his lip and a burn on your wrist from someone’s cigarette in the scuffle.

Still, you crawled into his lap. Still, he held you like he hadn’t just watched you fall apart in front of Reika and half the club.

“You’re gonna be bruised tomorrow,” he murmured.

You said nothing. Just traced the ink on his shoulder. After a while, he spoke again.

“She’s gonna talk, you know.”

You didn’t ask who. You already knew.

“Let her,” you whispered. “Let her talk.”

“You okay with people knowing?”

“No,” you said, turning your face into his chest. “But I’ll lie better than anyone else.”

He laughed quietly, the sound warm against your hair. “That will do it.”

Then silence. His fingers slid down your spine. You breathed him in. You didn’t say it. You wouldn’t.

But for the first time since this started — you were scared you might have already lost.

You could feel it before you even stepped into the room. The looks. The whispers. The way conversations shifted the moment your heels clicked into earshot.

It wasn’t paranoia. It was worse than that. It was true.

Monday morning, the group chat was dead silent — except for one screenshot.

A blurry photo from behind the club. You. Choso. That kiss. His hand on your jaw.
Captioned:
“Y/N really said enemies to lovers???”

You left it on read. Didn’t even blink.

You were good at this. Born for it. A legacy of polished lies and perfect posture. You’d been trained your whole life to make disasters look like accessories.

And so, you showed up to school in Valentino, sunglasses on, latte in hand, wearing the confidence of someone who’d never had to beg or bleed for anything in her life.

But still, the eyes followed. Even from people who should’ve known better.

“Is it true?” Ayaka asked at lunch, her voice low, wide-eyed like she was asking if you’d joined a cult.

You took a long sip of your drink. “Is what true?”

“You and that guy… Choso?”

You tilted your head, smiling like she just told a joke you didn’t get.
“Do I look like I’d slum it with someone who dyes his hair in a bathroom sink?”

She blinked. “But the photo—”

“It’s Photoshop,” you said smoothly, cutting her off. “Or a lookalike. People are bored.”

“But Reika’s—”

You raised an eyebrow. “Reika is a crusty little groupie with a crush and no filter. She’d lie about getting hit on by a tree if it made her feel wanted.”

A pause. Ayaka looked down, biting her nail. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend—”

You smiled wider.
“No offense taken. You’re just… misinformed.”

And that was that.

The others shut up after that — for now.
Because when you speak with that kind of poise, that kind of poison-laced charm, people tend to swallow their doubts.

But later that day, behind the school gym, you heard someone laughing.

“Bro, she really clawed Reika’s shoulder over him. Like, isn’t she supposed to be better than that?”

“She thinks she’s royalty, but she’s out here throwing drinks over a bassist.”

You turned the corner, slow, deliberate.

They didn’t see you at first. Two guys and one girl. Loudmouths from the lower social tier. The kind who always hovered near the edges of your circle hoping to get invited somewhere that mattered.

You cleared your throat. They whipped around. You were already smiling. But it wasn’t kind.

“I heard someone mention my name,” you said, voice like sugar glass. “And I just wanted to confirm something.”

They froze.

“Do I look like the kind of girl who chases after men who smell like mildew and bad decisions?”

“N-no—”

“Exactly.” You stepped closer, voice lowering. “So next time my name leaves your mouth, make sure it’s followed by ma’am.”

Silence.

“Got it?” They nodded.

You turned and walked away like nothing had happened. Because that’s what you did — made messes disappear before they ever touched you.

But later that night, you were alone in your room. Curtains drawn. Phone lighting up again. This time a text from Choso:

“You good?”

You stared at it.

He hadn’t reached out all day. Not since the kiss. Not since Reika’s shoulder. Not since the rumors started.

You didn’t answer. Because you weren’t mad at him. You were mad at you.

Mad that you felt anything at all. Mad that one blurry picture could make you flinch. Mad that you could walk a hallway full of rumors and still wonder if he thought about you at night.

You threw your phone across the bed. Then stared at the ceiling. You were unraveling.
But only on the inside.

Outside? You were still perfect. Still rich. Still untouchable. And tomorrow? You’d show up in designer boots, red nails, and a smirk.

Because if the world was going to talk— You’d make sure they said only what you allowed.

He stopped texting first.

You noticed right away — not because you cared, but because you cared too much. Quietly. Pathetically. In the worst way a girl like you could.

No “you up?” No midnight calls. Just… silence. It was intentional. It always was with him.

The punk boy with smoke on his fingers and a stare like rusted metal didn’t ghost — he withdrew. Carefully. Slowly. Just enough to make you wonder if he’d ever been yours at all.

And it infuriated you.

So you waited. Let a few days pass. Pretended not to care. You posted a photo dump on Instagram that made your body look dangerous and your smile look fake. Every single frame was calculated.

Choso watched all of it. Viewed your story within minutes every time.

But he said nothing. No reaction. No message. Just cold, deliberate distance.

You spotted him twice at school — once outside the music building with Reika, and once behind the parking structure where he was sitting on a bench, legs wide, cigarette dangling from his lip.

Both times, he didn’t look at you.
But Reika did. You recognized that look. The smug, greasy kind of satisfaction that came from thinking she'd won.

So you made a decision.

Friday. Club Necra. 11:47 p.m.

The second you stepped inside, heads turned. Your perfume hit the air like a threat — sharp, rich, and heavy with something that said I don’t bleed, I bite.

The dress was black silk. Thigh-high slit. No back. It screamed: Look at me. And regret it.

You spotted Choso almost instantly. He was against the wall, drink in hand, surrounded by bodies — Reika at his side, laughing, touching him like he was already hers.

He didn’t glance at you once. But you saw it.
His grip on the glass tightened. His jaw flexed.

So you smiled. And made sure he saw what you did next.

You drifted to the bar and let yourself be pulled into conversation by Riku — some spoiled rich boy from your father's charity gala circuit. Pretty, stupid, rich. The kind of boy who’d call you goddess and mean it.

You let him touch your bare shoulder. Let him press too close. You didn’t even like the way he smelled, but that wasn’t the point.

Choso was gone within minutes.

He cornered you outside twenty minutes later.

The alley behind the club reeked of old beer and smoke. You lit a cigarette just to feel something, and when the door slammed behind you, you already knew it was him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

His voice cracked the air like thunder.

You turned slowly. “Getting a drink?”

“With Riku?”

You raised your brows. “Didn’t know I had to run my plans by you now.”

“You don’t,” he said coldly. “But don’t act like this wasn’t aimed at me.”

“Oh, so now you notice me again?”

He stepped forward, slow. “I always noticed you.”

“No,” you said, heat creeping into your throat. “You watched. You ignored. You let that little gremlin sit on your lap like I wasn’t even real.”

“We’re not exclusive. That’s what you said.”

“I didn’t say I’d be replaced.”

He laughed once — bitter, quiet. “You never thought you could be, huh?”

That was it. You slapped him. Hard. The crack echoed.

He didn’t flinch. Just turned his face back to you and stepped closer.

“You’re so used to being wanted that the second someone doesn’t beg, you spiral.”

You shoved him. “Screw you.”

“You already did.”

And then— he kissed you. Hard. Messy. Teeth and tongue and everything you’d been starving for all week. You could feel his anger in the way he grabbed your waist. Feel your own in the way you bit down on his lip, drawing blood.

And when he finally pulled back, breathless, forehead against yours—

You whispered, “If you ever let her touch you again, I’ll ruin you.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t laugh.

He just said:

“Then ruin me.”

Later, you lay in his bed, makeup half gone, your nails still marked in his back. He lit a cigarette and didn’t offer you one. The silence was heavier than anything he’d ever said.

“You’re not mine,” you said flatly, staring at the ceiling. “You never were.”

“No,” he replied, “but I never let anyone else fuck with me the way you do.”

That should’ve felt like a win.

It didn’t. You turned your back to him, and he didn’t reach for you. Not this time.

And in the dark, with his smoke curling behind you like a ghost, you realized:

He wasn’t going to chase you anymore.
Not unless you gave him a reason to.

And if that meant breaking every rule you’d ever made? So be it.

You told everyone you didn’t care.

Said it with a smirk over iced matcha at your favorite café. Said it in group chats and voice notes and bored eye-rolls in class when Reika’s name came up.

“She’s not a threat.”

“It was just a thing.”

“He’s not even my type.”

Lies. Gorgeous, effortless lies.

But even the best liar can only run for so long.

Because a week later, a photo hit the story cycle like blood in the water: Choso. Reika. His hand on her thigh in the greenroom before a set.

The caption was worse.

“Tonight’s Muse 💋🎸”

That’s when you snapped.

You weren’t supposed to be at the show.

You told people you were in Shibuya shopping. You posted a blurry story from a rooftop bar in Omotesando. But at 9:42 p.m., you were backstage at Club Eclipse, slipping through the crowd like a ghost in heels.

You wore all black. No statement jewelry. Minimal makeup. For once, you didn’t want to be seen — just to see.

Reika was in front of him, laughing, pretending she knew what being mysterious felt like. Her voice was fake sugar. Her fingers were too familiar. And Choso?

He didn’t stop her.

You stood in the hallway just behind the stage door and watched it all. Watched him. Watched the way he looked bored, detached, high off something you couldn’t name. His mouth curved, but not into a real smile.

And then— He saw you. You didn’t blink. Didn’t move. But he did. His eyes flicked from you to Reika. Then back. And maybe it was your imagination— but his jaw tightened.

You didn’t wait for the show to start.

You left. Slipped out into the night like nothing mattered. But by the time you reached your car, your hands were shaking. You weren’t sure if it was from jealousy, from anger, or from the way his eyes had searched yours like a question he couldn’t ask.

You didn’t sleep that night.

You went home, poured yourself a drink, and scrolled back through every message he’d ever sent you. Every photo. Every voice memo. The dumb, scratchy ones he recorded half-drunk at 3 a.m. about nothing.

You deleted none of it. And then, at 2:17 a.m., you did something stupid. You texted him.

Y/N: She doesn’t even know your favorite song.

Y/N: Or that you hate when people touch your knees. Or that you only smoke when you’re trying not to cry.

Y/N: So go ahead. Be her muse.


Y/N: But don’t pretend she knows you like I do.

You stared at the message for two full minutes.

Then: Deleted it. Every line. Unsent. But it was too late. Because thirty seconds later, your phone lit up.

Choso: You jealous?

Your heart stopped. Your fingers hovered. And for once— You told the truth.

Y/N: Yeah.

There was no reply. Not that minute.
Not that hour. But the next day, he showed up at your building.

You found him waiting outside in the alley near the private elevator, hoodie pulled low, cigarette between his lips.

He looked at you like a sin he wanted to commit twice.

“You meant it?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Why do you care?”

He took one step forward. “Because if you’re gonna be jealous—”

Another step. Close now. Your perfume tangled in his smoke.

“Then I want you to do something about it.”

And then, like he knew you would— you kissed him first. It was possessive. Desperate. The kind of kiss that didn’t say I love you — it screamed you’re mine.

You dragged him upstairs. Ripped his hoodie. Bit his collarbone. Left marks where everyone could see. It wasn’t romantic. It was war.

The next day, Reika showed up with a bruise on her ego and no answers. She asked Choso what happened.

He didn’t tell her.

But later, you posted a photo.

Just your shoulder in a mirror. Red hickeys and bite marks. A cigarette smoldering in the background. And one caption:

“Try harder.”

The story post was petty. You knew it. But it worked — at least for a second. People talked.
The whispers started again.

“Wasn’t she with that guy, Riku?”


“Aren’t Reika and Y/N about to kill each other?”


“Did you see the bruises on her hip? They matched Choso’s hand size exactly.”


“She’s insane. I love it.”

You didn’t correct any of it. Didn’t confirm.
Didn’t deny.

You just walked through campus like you were untouchable, iced coffee in one hand, sunglasses pushed into your perfectly blown-out hair, while girls whispered and boys stared.

But Choso didn’t say a word. No reaction. No text. No visit.

You went home with someone else just to feel something. Let him undress you and call you pretty. But halfway through, you made him stop. Told him to leave.

Because his hands weren’t rough enough.
His voice wasn’t low enough. His scent didn’t remind you of ash and aftershave and electricity.

It wasn’t Choso. And the ache in your chest was starting to feel too real.

It was three days before you saw him again.

He was outside the skate park, hood pulled up, smoke curling from his lips. He didn’t look up when you passed. Just flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and kept scrolling on his phone.

“Seriously?” you snapped, stopping a few feet away. “You’re just ignoring me now?”

Still nothing.

“Fine,” you said, louder. “Pretend you didn’t fuck me twice in one night and tell me I ruin you.”

He looked up then. Slowly. Lazily. Like it was a chore.

“You done?”

The way he said it —you flinched. Choso stood. Tossed the cigarette. Walked toward you.

“I’m tired,” he said. “Of being something you use when you’re bored. When you’re hurt. When Reika pisses you off or your daddy stops wiring money.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No.” His voice sharpened. “I get it. You’re hot. Powerful. Rich enough to make your mistakes disappear. But I’m not one of them.”

You hated how steady his voice was.

“I told you,” you said, jaw tightening. “She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t care.”

He nodded. “Yeah, maybe not. But at least she doesn’t play me.”

That hit harder than it should’ve.

You crossed your arms, voice low now. “So what? You’re choosing her?”

“I’m not choosing anyone.” He stepped closer. “You don’t get it, Y/N. I don’t want to be someone you only want when it’s convenient. I’m not a rumor for you to wear like jewelry.”

The silence after that was worse than yelling.And then, because you hated feeling small— you did something stupid. You looked up at him and asked:

“So what the fuck are we then?”

His answer came too fast.

“We’re nothing.”

You felt it in your bones. He walked past you without another glance. And for the first time since this whole mess began—

You didn’t chase him.

That night, you stayed quiet. No parties. No posts. No lipstick. No noise. Just you, curled in your king-sized bed, staring at your own reflection in the ceiling mirror.

You were beautiful. You were rich. You were untouchable. And still— you felt abandoned. Because for the first time in your life, someone chose to leave. Not because you weren’t enough. But because you were too much.

You don’t show up to class the next day. You don’t show up to anything.

The group chat floods with messages — “where are you,”

“babe are you okay,”

“tell me this isn’t about that emo boy.” You ignore them all. No makeup. No heels. Just you, bare-faced in your penthouse, looking smaller than you ever let anyone see.

The silence wraps around you like velvet. Thick. Heavy. Your phone rings. You ignore it.
It rings again. And again.

You pick it up once, just to stare at the screen.

Riku.
Ayaka.
Your father’s assistant.
Blocked. Blocked. Ignored.

Not a single notification from Choso.

Of course not. You’d played every hand — seduction, jealousy, lies, silence — and now the deck was empty. No cards left.

So you open your Notes app and do something you’ve never done before. You write something honest. Not for anyone else. Just for you.

“He said we were nothing.
But I felt everything.
I hate that he saw through me.
I hate that he walked away.
And I hate, hate, hate that I would've stayed.”

You stare at the screen for a long time before pressing delete. But something about the words lingers. Like perfume on your skin after he's gone.

Two nights later.

You’re at a rooftop party in Minato you don’t even remember agreeing to attend. Everything is beautiful. Neon. Loud. Shallow. It feels like being wrapped in bubble wrap — safe and fake.

A girl tells you she loves your dress. A boy offers to buy you champagne. And then someone says it—

“Did you hear? Choso’s band might be playing at the 47Club pop-up next weekend. They’re bringing her.”

You freeze. You shouldn’t care. But your stomach drops anyway. She. Reika. Still in his world. Still trying.

You excuse yourself and go to the bathroom, lock the door, lean against the marble.

You press your hands to your face. And you cry. Quietly. No sobs. No sound. Just hot tears tracking perfectly down your sculpted cheekbones.

Because girls like you don’t get dumped.
You don’t get replaced. You’re the girl boys regret. You’re the girl they write songs about after you destroy them.

But with him— you were just a footnote.

The next morning, you don’t call. You don’t text. You just show up.

Outside Choso’s apartment. Hair tied back. No makeup. Dressed in a hoodie that wasn’t yours but looked like it could’ve been his.

He opens the door in a tank top and low sweats, blinking at the early sunlight. His tattoos are half-faded from sleep. His voice is rough when he says—

“What do you want?”

You look at him. Not like a spoiled girl with something to prove. Not like a vengeful ex.
Not like a game. Just you.

And for once, you tell the truth:

“I miss you.”

He doesn’t answer right away. But something shifts in his face — confusion, recognition, pain. Like he doesn’t know what to do with softness from you.

“Y/N—”

You shake your head. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… I don’t know who I am without this stupid war between us.”

He stares. Quiet.

Then:
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your throat tightens.

“You didn’t. Not the way you think.”

There’s a pause. Then he lets you inside.

You don’t hook up. You don’t kiss. You just sit on the floor in his living room, knees touching, passing a cigarette between you like old war friends.

And for once, you talk.

About the pressure. The image. How exhausting it is to always be that girl. You don’t even realize you’re crying again until he reaches over and wipes it with the sleeve of his hoodie.

And when he says—

“You’re more than what you pretend to be,”

—you believe him. Just for a moment.

You left quietly that morning. No kiss. No whispered goodbye. Just slipped on your jacket and shut the door behind you like a secret. Choso didn’t wake up, or maybe he just didn’t stop you.

Either way — you were gone.

And something about that silence… stuck with him.

The next day, he texted.

Choso: You good?

No reply.

Choso: You left fast.

Still nothing.

He tried not to care. Played his guitar until his fingers ached. Wrote lyrics that didn’t rhyme. Lit a cigarette and let it burn out between his fingers. Checked your socials.

No posts. No stories. No digital trace of you anywhere. For the first time, he realized you weren’t trying to be seen. And that terrified him.

The week stretched thin.

He thought maybe you'd pop up somewhere — a rooftop bar, some glittery event, a gossip thread. But you didn’t. Even Reika asked about you, voice dipped in something smug and sweet.

“Haven’t seen her around. Did you two finally kill each other or what?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her. Because all he could think about was you on his floor — raw and exposed — saying I miss you like it had cost something.

It took six days. Six days before he broke.

He went to your apartment. Pressed the buzzer like a junkie waiting for a hit. You didn’t answer. So he left a voicemail. His voice was low. Not angry. Just… uncertain.

“You don’t get to disappear like that, Y/N. Not after what you said.”

He paced. Lit a smoke. Deleted the next message before sending it.

But twenty minutes later, your door opened. And there you were. Hair up. No makeup. Wearing the same oversized sweater you’d stolen from him months ago.

You didn’t look angry. You didn’t look cold. You looked resigned.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

He stared. Then stepped closer.

“I thought you were gonna leave again.”

You shrugged, like the answer didn’t matter. “So?”

“So,” he said, “this time I’d chase you.”

Your breath caught. Something about the way he said it — not desperate, not needy, just true — hit deeper than anything else had.

“Why?” you whispered.

Choso didn’t blink.

“Because I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

Your jaw tensed. “You said we were nothing.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “and that was the biggest lie I ever told.”

This time, when you kissed, it didn’t feel like war. It felt like surrender. Like falling backward with your eyes closed, trusting he’d catch you — even if it hurt.

You spent the night together. Not just fucking — being. Laughing. Arguing over music. Playing dumb card games until 3 a.m.

You fell asleep wrapped in each other. For once, it didn’t feel like a transaction. It felt like something worth staying for.

But deep down, you knew: This wasn’t the end of the war. It was just a ceasefire. And love?
Love is a battlefield with no rules.

The morning was quiet.

Golden light spilling across Choso’s bedsheets. Your leg draped over his. His fingers still tangled in your hair.

No fights. No post-hookup silence. Just you, breathing in sync.

You opened your eyes slowly and caught him staring. He looked away too fast.

“What,” you asked.

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

He smirked. “You’ve always been good at calling my bullshit.”

You yawned, stretching like a cat. “It’s a talent.”

He sat up, back turned, hair messy. His spine looked too tense for how soft the morning felt.

“Choso…”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you thinking about her again?” you asked, half-joking. Half not.

“No.”

“Then what?”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dark eyes unreadable.

“Just wondering how long this version of you’s gonna last.”

You froze.

“What version?”

“This one,” he said. “Real. Not the polished, icy, ‘fuck off or fall in love with me’ version.”

Your chest tightened.

“You don’t like that version?”

“I like you.” A pause.
“But sometimes I don’t know which part’s real.”

That stung more than you expected.

“I could say the same thing about you.”

He turned fully now. “I’ve never lied about how I feel.”

“Bullshit. You told me we were nothing.”

“Because I was scared.”

The room got too quiet.nYou looked down at the sheets. Picked at the edge like it could distract you.

“This isn’t love,” you mumbled. “Right?”

He exhaled.

“I don’t know.”

You stood, grabbed his shirt off the floor, slipped it on like armor.

“Because it feels like it.”

“I know.”

“And that’s the part that pisses me off.”

He smirked. “Because you can’t control it?”

“Because I’d let you break my heart.”

That silenced him. He walked toward you, stopped inches away.

“Then let me try not to.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not the romantic type, Choso.”

“Maybe not.” He leaned down. “But I’d fight for you.”

You kissed him then. Not hard. Not fast. Just deep — like every breath you’d taken since meeting him was leading to this.

Later, when the sun was higher, you sat out on the balcony. Coffee. Cigarettes. Legs brushing. Silence between you — comfortable, not cold.

“What now?” you asked.

“We try,” he said.

“To be normal?”

He looked at you like you were an idiot. “We’ll never be normal.”

You laughed. He reached over and took your hand. Just held it. No games. No labels. Just this. Two disasters, finally learning how to be gentle.

Taglist: @wonubby @asteriaskingdom @insideoutjulie @kkataleena @endedlove @nanam1nz @recispeices

[liiixsturniolos]

" m'sorry officer. "

dealer!chris sturniolo x cop!reader

(Readers name: Auriella/ Auri Robbins.)

warnings!: smut, (p into v), dom!chris, sex in a car, mentions of drugs. Car speeding (illegal do not imitate!!)

wc: 1.8k

◇ Your first day at your new job as a cop is quite eventful. You stop a reckless driver until you realise who it is, an old friend from high school, Chris Sturniolo. Reminders of your teengage years, lead to something that could definitely get you fired.

You gather your neatly folded pile of uniform, setting it down on your bed before you carefully button it up onto yourself, clicking your belt together. You walk over to your bathroom mirror and stare at the shiny new badge you have pinned to your royal blue shirt.

You feel proud. You made it. First day on the job, you're ecstatic.

Your boots click against the floor loudly, their shiny and new, not broken in yet. The tough leather is rubbing against the heel of your foot, but you ignore it and continue to walk toward the car your boss is sitting in.

"Good to see you again, Robbins." He tells you the same as every other morning at 7am sharp. Your day flies by fast. You don't do much, mostly just lounge around in the police car and nosy into minor drug cases, and hand out a few tickets, nothing that matters.

Dissatisfied with your uneventful day, you stroll back to the car, waiting patiently for your colleague to return from the store he was in. You bite your nails out of boredom, play with strands of your hair.

Anything that could satisfy your mind for even a minute would be nice.

You wanted to solve real cases. To stop someone dangerous or take down a big crime, something that would promote you and make your bosses proud. You didn't want to be sitting in an old dusty police car with stained leather seats and only arresting fourteen year old boys who thought they were cool for selling class B drugs from their school backpack.

It bored you quite frankly, and you wanted something real.

A car zooms past, and it had to have been over going over 90.

The echoing screech of the tires woke you up from your thoughts. "Fuck!" You shout, starting up the car.

You disregard your colleague in the store, push your foot down, and set off on a chase. It was a stupid idea in reality.

You should've gotten on your radio and called for someone else to intercept them. It's unlikely you'll catch up with the speeding car on your own.

Your lights are now blaring, the loud warning and red and blue lights flash rapidly as you speed down the road towards the car. Switching lanes and forcing him to pull over, you stop the car as he accepts his fate.

Feeling proud of your first real catch, you exit the car with pure euphoria flowing through your veins, your legs feel tingly, and you can't help but smile slightly as you walk up to the window.

The dark, tinted window rolls down slowly, "m'sorry officer." A familiar voice apologises from inside.

"You were speeding a lot." You emphasise the 'a lot' of your phrase hinting at the severity and wondering if you'd be getting a bonus for this or something.

The man's face is revealed as he turns his head to pass you his licence. "Chris?" You question, holding his licence closer to your face to check you weren't mistaken. "Oh shit! Auri, that you?" He realises.

"Damn, so you're a cop now?" He laughs, taking in the look of your full uniform and pinned up hair.

"Yeah, I am." You respond with a hint of an ego, proud of your achievement.

"That's crazy, I remember when you couldn't pass math." He chuckles.

"I might just give you two tickets for bringing that up." You tell him in a sarcastic tone.

"You wouldn't give me a ticket, would you Auri?" He tilts his head like a puppy.

"Well, you were speeding, fast- like really fucking fast." You say.

"Yeah, I know, m'sorry, let me off this time kay?" He asks, his hand placed on the wheel firmly and his eyes locked in on yours.

You wouldn't break. This was a serious offence. He could've crashed into someone. You have to take him in, or atleast give him a ticket.

He notices you thinking, your body turning stiffer and your arms more firmly crossed, he worries he won't get away with this.

"C'mon Auri, remember all the good times we had."

He says good differently, you knew why.

Just because you fucked once or twice when you were teens doesn't mean you owe him anything, you know that. But when he tilts his head at you, when he pleads a little, seeing his hand gripping the wheel...

The pressure broke you. You tell him you'll let him off this once, but if you ever see him do this again, he's not getting away with it.

"What are you doing driving out here alone anyway?" You question him.

"I just wanted to go for a drive alone, clear my thoughts n' stuff you know." He lies through his teeth.

You could tell he was making up an excuse on the spot, but you'd kind of stopped caring, distracted by him, his eyes, hands, you hadn't seen him in so long.

"You know, I've missed you, Auriella." He whispers.

You couldn't tell if this one was a lie or not.

You smile. "Let me take you for a drive, hm?" He asks.

"Is that one of your jokes?" You respond with a straight face.

"No. Seriously, c'mon Auri, like we used to. You used to let me drive you around fast, even before I had my licence." He smirks.

He was a terrible influence on you in your teenage years. He distracted you from your studies. Got you into a little weed every now and again and would drive you around in his dad's car that he'd steal.

In reality, he hadn't done that to you. Maybe you had. But you like to blame him, you'll never admit you were a little rebellious, you'll never admit you did illegal things, or that you'd fuck in the backseat of his car, it would be the opposite of your pristine, princess reputation.

"No, I gotta go. Let's just forget about this." You tell him sharply, turning away.

He grips onto your bare arm. You turn back your head, "Auri, one last time?" He asks of you.

Shit. Okay, now you had to go. He was looking all begging and cute like he used to. One last time right? Couldn't hurt hm?

You get into the passenger seat of his car and clip on your seat belt. He laughs hearing the click of it. You've become 'uptight' to him, not like you used to be. You've grown up, matured, he hasn't, he's still racing around.

The car speeds off, your head jolts backwards at the impact, and the car soon becomes steady but speeds up quickly.

You'd forgotten about the rush.

The euphoria, the butterflies you'd get, the feeling like you were floating as the car went 100 miles an hour. I was watching intently as the numbers went up higher on the screen. 60. 70. 80. 90...100 mph.

You were obsessed with it. It was an awful and dangerous thing, but that added to the excitement of it all, the wondering if that night was the night you were going to die. It was exhilarating. It made you so anxious. You loved it. You felt 17 again.

The car slows down, eventually coming to a stop as your smile fades and Chris' giggles stop. He looks at you, a dirty look. Something you faintly recognised as you'd tried to scrub it from your mind many times.

His hand lifts from the wheel to your face, he grabs it impulsively and rough like he used to, pushing his lips onto yours.

Your hands roam through his hair. He kisses you harder, rougher, and it reminds you of the way he used to. He pulls away, his lips now latched onto your neck, and he leaves kisses, as he whispers in your ear about how much he's missed you.

He's unbuckling his belt. You give in and do the same, "I missed you so much, I missed this so much too." He whispers.

Fuck. That was all you needed. He might as well have hypnotised you into jumping into the backseat with your pants off.

The next thing you know, that's exactly where you are. He's on top of you, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing his tip against you, sliding himself in slowly.

You moan out quietly, your eyes shut. "Open your eyes, Auri. I wanna you to look at me like you used to." He asks.

You lock eyes with him as he pumps himself deep into you, hitting the right spot repeatedly, untying a knot in your stomach you only just realised was there.

His sweating, bare chest is hitting yours. He bottoms out inside of you, the entirety of his dick, pushing as far in as he could go.

He gets rougher, something you won't admit you like too. He's practically ramming in and out of you, which was the dirty secret you loved.

Your eyes well up with tears. It's a weirdly nostalgic feeling as you come to your high, as euphoric as the drive earlier.

You feel your legs shake around him, the grunts he utters become quiet, as you're blinded by white spots clouding your vision, your eyebrows turning up, and your mouth hanging open wide.

His throbbing cock twitches inside of you, he coats you with warm, wet release as your back arches up at the feel of it, you join him.

You suddenly become aware of what you've done and where you are.

"This was bad." You say worriedly.

"The sex?" Chris scoffs, his eyes wide open.

"No-no, not that.. this. I'm gonna get fired, Chris!" You yelp out.

"I'm sure you won't. I'll help you come up with a lie for why you were gone, trust me." He insists.

You can barely hear him talking over your fast beating heart and your raspy breath as you pull up your underwear. All you can think about is what you'll tell your boss. That you ran off to go on a fast drive and fuck an old friend?

Chris grabs onto your shoulders with his hands, "Listen, I'm good at lying. I'll get you out of this kay?" He reassures you.

Your eyes are darting around until they fixate on something, something you hadn't noticed before, being too busy to see, bags in the trunk of the car.

You lift your head up to see what's in the trunk. You let out a gasp.

"Chris are you fucking kidding me!" You scream.

"Shush, shush-fuck Auri, chill." He shushes you and turns you away from the drugs which are resting in his cars trunk.

"Drug dealer? Chris for real?" You mumble, his hand over your mouth.

"Yes, quit freaking out about it, God." He begs.

"You're a drug dealer and you thought it would be appropriate to fuck a police officer!" You yell.

"Oh my god, Auri! Quit screaming it to everyone!" He pleads.

"This is insane." You tell him, your eyes wide open, staring at him.

"Listen, maybe we can hatch a little agreement, okay?" He starts...

That's it for today! Please comment/tell me if you want a part two to this! Please also interact if you liked this. Thank you for reading cutiesss!!

Taglist: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @certifiedstarrr @chrissweetheart