#gonna have a cry and try something to distract my thoughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sleeplessdove · 5 months ago

Text

— twist the knife

♡ ghostface! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: just how much cruelty is your girlfriend capable of?

a/n: old fic while i work on vampire!ellie stuff …

warnings: DARK THEMES! - toxic relationships, murder, death, im serious she is on a killing spree, masked killers, name calling, mocking, tormenting, ellie & r! are in college, fighting, verbal arguments, breaking and entering, crying, begging, threats of violence, many of said threats are carried out, pet names, knife usage, blood, hair pulling, falling, smacking, a gun again who else is shocked, forced affection & apologies, r! gets eaten out, fingering (r! receiving), mentions of love cause why not, gun fucking ... guys im sorry, blackmail, photos with a lack of consent, and lots more !

wc: 9.6k

Even with the calm sound of the leaves rustling from the light breeze, you couldn’t help but continue to look back over your shoulder to ensure that no one was behind you.

It was a nervous habit you had picked up after the murders began in your small town. You felt as if there was no amount of caution that would protect you from the psycho killer that was brutally ending innocent lives.

The thoughts had flooded your mind so much that you had momentarily forgotten your girlfriend was right beside you, her fingers interlaced with your own as she carried out her usual routine of walking you home after classes were over.

Your head was still turned back so that you could observe the people walking behind you, only being met with the sight of a students who you had seen around campus a few times. Ellie must have been trying to get your attention for a while, as she finally waved her hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance.

“Jesus fucking christ, I thought you were listening to me that whole time. Did you hear anything I said?” she questioned, a light chuckle leaving her lips despite her harsh words. Your eyes widened in the slightest when her voice finally reached you, flinching momentarily since you hadn’t expected the sudden sound.

Ellie quickly snapped her head back in the direction you had previously been looking in, her brows furrowing to convey her confusion before looking back at you. “You’re acting like we have a stalker or something. Do you know something I don't?” she asked in her usual joking tone, your body relaxing in the slightest from how at ease Ellie seemed.

“M’ sorry for not listening, I’m just a little scared— you know? All the people who have been killed are people we knew” you mumbled, lowering your gaze towards the orange leaves that were scattered all along the sidewalk. Ellie couldn’t stop the light scoff that passed her lips, almost seeming too relaxed despite the fact that you were absolutely right.

“We didn’t know them that well” she added swiftly, a slight smile creeping onto her lips before she spoke once more. “Plus, it's not all bad. Classes are canceled till those dumbass cops can figure out what the fuck is going on. And considering the fact that they only know what costume the killer is wearing, we probably won’t have to worry about classes for the rest of the year” she blurted without the slightest bit of hesitation.

It wasn’t unlike Ellie to be so sarcastic but you couldn't shake the nerves that were flooding your body, a small frown appearing on your lips despite her attempt to ease the tension. “S’ not like they’re gonna be missed anyways. Those jock assholes got what was coming to them. Shit, maybe we should be thanking ghostfa—” she began, although her words never managed to connect in your mind.

You were far too distracted, as you had finally looked up at Ellie only to notice the slightest bit of blood seeping from a small gash that was covered by her hair. “Oh my god, what happened?” you questioned in a worried tone, your brows knitting together as you let go of her hand so you could try to observe her injury. With careful movements, you pushed her hair back only to find that the wound was far worse than you thought.

There was a purplish hue surrounding it, dried blood having collected into the roots of her auburn hair. You couldn’t understand why you hadn’t noticed it earlier, only being brought out of your thoughts when Ellie pulled your hand away from her face ever so gently. “S’ nothing serious, baby. Just got into a little disagreement with someone yesterday” she muttered in a careless manner, trying to play it off as smoothly as possible.

It wasn’t as if it was the most incomprehensible idea, as Ellie was known for her short temper and rather aggressive approach to resolving issues. However, that didn’t stop the small pout from appearing on your features, your eyes still lingering on the cut as you spoke. “You told me you were going to stop getting into fights” you huffed, not taking hold of her hand before you continued to walk in the direction of your home.

Ellie was quick to follow after you, catching up to you before you could get too far from her. “I said I would try to stop getting into fights. There is a big difference” she retorted, wrapping her arm around your waist before using the back of her free hand to wipe off the smallest bit of blood that had dripped down her forehead. You only rolled your eyes at her words, grumbling a soft “whatever” in reply.

The two of you had finally reached your home just as Ellie was about to make another excuse, and you were already pulling away from her so that you could make your way inside without her. Ellie wasn’t having any of that, pulling you back rather roughly so that you were facing her. “Can I come over later tonight, bun? I was thinkin’ maybe we could watch a scary movie together” she muttered, attempting to make you forget the fact that you were upset with her.

It didn’t work all that well, as you shook your head quickly at the request. “Not tonight” you sighed, squirming in the slightest from how tightly she was holding you. Ellie didn’t seem pleased with your reply, her sweet demeanor dropping completely as a frown took the place of her previous smile. “Why not? Are you seeing someone else tonight?” she questioned in an accusing manner, her grip only tightening as you tried to get her to ease up.

“No— I am not having anyone else over tonight” you scoffed, looking at her with an unamused expression. “I already told you that my parents are gone for the whole week and you know their rules” you began, only to be cut off by a low groan leaving Ellie’s lips. “No having your girlfriend over after dark” she mocked the rule your parents had made up the minute the two of you began dating, her voice making her irritation evident.

You shot her a quick glare but nodded your head nonetheless, watching as Ellie tried to find the right words to convince you to just disobey your parents this one time. “How would they even know? Promise I won’t tell on you” she said with a cocky smile, as she had lied to your parents faces countless times after helping you sneak out at night to come over to her place.

“I can’t take any chances after they caught you coming in through the window last week, Els. They still have me on house arrest for that” you whined in reply, not wanting to fight with Ellie about this any longer.

Ellie’s reaction was anything but sweet, as she rolled her eyes and finally released the hold she had on you rather carelessly so that you stumbled in the slightest. “I don’t fucking get it— you’re in college and they treat you like you’re still just a kid” she grumbled, not at all pleased with the fact that you always insisted on following their rules.

Your eyes narrowed at her words, a small sigh leaving your lips as you took in Ellie’s annoyed expression. You usually made an effort to not bicker with her over small things but she had been frustrating you more than usual as of late.

With the way she was constantly ignoring your calls and clearly lying about what she had been doing these past few nights, you knew something was up. You were just as upset as she was and you should’ve bitten your tongue and shoved it down as you usually did, but you just couldn’t.

“Not all of us can do whatever we want to, Ellie. Don’t try to give me shit just because you don’t have anyone back at home to give you rules to follow” you spat without thinking, your eyes widening the moment the words left your lips.

It had been almost a year since Ellie’s only father figure, Joel, had been killed, the case never being solved which had left your girlfriend with a massive sense of resentment towards everyone and everything. She rarely opened up about it to you, but you already knew how much it ate away at her.

It was a low blow but it was all you had in that moment. You just wanted to shut her up or maybe just piss her off enough that she finally explained her strange behavior. Despite your nervous expression, you stood your ground and offered her no apologies for your words.

Ellie had momentarily gone silent— her lack of response putting you on edge as you awaited her reaction. People continued passing the two of you by as you stood in front of your home, the soft buzz of their conversation sounding far away due to the deafening silence Ellie had left you with.

Her previous expression already showed her irritation, but once your words finally set in it changed rapidly. A little crease appeared between her brows, her breathing suddenly becoming uneven as she looked down at your unremorseful expression.

It was a strange sight, as Ellie was always quick to find some hurtful reply to hit you with before you could even blink. She leaned back for a moment as if to take you in before moving in closer, her nails digging into her own palms as she clenched her fists at her sides.

Your body was tingling with nerves, your eyes darting around every inch of Ellie’s infuriated expression. Her stare alone filled you with guilt and you tried to finally push some sort of apology out, but she was quick to cut you off.

“You are such a fucking cunt” she spat, the disgust in her tone so prominent that you felt beyond humiliated. Over the course of your relationship with Ellie, you had grown accustomed to her outbursts. Whether it be calling you names or her picking a fight with you for absolutely no reason— she always found a way to piss you off. And yet this time it felt so different, as you had never dared to talk back to her before.

Ellie backed up after she spoke, her piercing gaze tearing you apart so that you were left feeling embarrassed and exposed as you stood before her. “You always pull shit like this. Someone needs to teach you to stop running your fucking mouth” she said in a low tone, not even giving you a chance to reply before she started walking away from your home so that she could get back to her own.

For a moment you acted on instinct, taking a small step to follow after her. You snapped out of it after you moved, only letting your eyes trail after her as she moved away. On any other occasion you would have pleaded for her forgiveness, but you were done with putting up with her constant shifts in mood.

It felt as if you weren’t even in control of your body as you moved towards your home, unlocking the door with a blank expression on your face while your mind ran rampant over how Ellie had spoken to you. She had reacted differently than she usually would, as she had a tendency to raise her voice just to prove a point. And yet, she had kept an eerily calm demeanor as she spoke down to you.

Some part of you wished she would have yelled or made some sort of empty threat, as her quiet reaction left you feeling nauseous. You knew dwelling on it wouldn’t make it any better, a soft huff leaving your lips as you dropped your bag on the side of the couch so that you could lay down.

You turned on the television to have some background noise while you checked your phone, the news playing quietly as you fought with yourself on whether or not to text Ellie. Your thumb hovered over her contact, a frustrated groan leaving your lips before you shoved your phone between one of the couch cushions in an attempt to keep yourself from even thinking about speaking to her.

Ellie was the one who had started all of this— not you. She was the one who had been disappearing for hours on end with pathetic excuses as to where she had been. You didn’t owe her anything, even if you had momentarily slipped up and said something hurtful. She had said absolutely vile things to you countless times and you never reacted the way she did.

If she really wanted to fix whatever the fuck was happening between the two of you, she would just do it. You couldn’t make excuses for her anymore, as you had grown tired of her constant anger.

You were a bit dazed as you stared at the screen in front of you, the low volume making it hard for you to understand what they were even saying. It was as if your mental exhaustion was manifesting into something physical, as your eyelids were heavy with the need for sleep. There was no way you could be bothered to close the curtains in your living room, your eyes fluttering closed as you continued to think about Ellie.

Maybe this was for the best— the relationship you shared with her was anything but sweet. There was always something off about Ellie that you couldn’t quite discern and in all honesty, you were somewhat scared of her. You loved her a little too much and you had spent too long making excuses for her.

This whole argument had blown up in your face, and even as you drifted off you couldn’t help but think about how this was beginning to seem like a means to an end.

Your heart was slamming against your chest as you were abruptly woken up by the loud ringing of your phone sounding throughout the dark living room. The only other noise within the space was the quiet hum of the tv, your eyes flickering towards the bright screen to try and focus on what was playing.

With squinted eyes you read the breaking news title that read ‘GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN!’ in crimson lettering, the vibrant red and blue police lights flashing on screen as they played a live feed of what was going on.

The sight alone had you sitting up straight, your phone long forgotten as you scrambled to find the remote. You held down the volume button so that you could turn it up, leaning your body towards the TV as the newscasters described the situation at hand. It was hard to make out the words in your sleepy state, your fist coming up to rub the sleep from your eyes as you did your best to listen.

You could only make out a few words—- a real life horror movie, another tragedy, gruesome, unlike anything we have seen before, and yet another college student has been lost. All of the words sounded strung together and they left you feeling uneasy, your eyes zeroing in on the screen so that you could get more details that would inevitably lead to you being paranoid all night.

A shiver ran through your body from how cold the room was, your eyes finally flickering away from the screen so that you were looking at the window closest to where you were sitting. The thin curtains moved with the small breeze that was passing through, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin.

Why can’t you remember opening that window?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing once more, the sudden disruption making you let out a soft gasp. After you realized what the sound was, you let out somewhat of a nervous laugh at how dramatic you were being over the whole situation.

There had to be an explanation for the window— as you did have a tendency to be rather forgetful and the phone calls were more than likely just scams.

Nonetheless, you shifted around so that you could shove your hand between the sofa cushions, finally managing to yank your phone out so that you could find out who was insisting you at such a late hour. You were given no satiation to your curiosity, as you were greeted with the sight of No Caller ID instead of an actual number.

It still provided you with a sense of relief, although some part of you had been hoping that Ellie was the one who had been so insistent on you picking up her calls. You declined the call, as you had seen too many horror movies thanks to your girlfriend's love for slasher flicks— and you refused to end up like those girls who die within the first 15 minutes since they pick up some unknown phone call.

You dropped your phone back down onto the couch, doing your best to continue to listen to the news report as you made your way towards the window. Your hands were just about to push the window closed but you were distracted by what sounded like footsteps coming from inside your house. The sound made you whip your head back, your breath picking up within a split second.

Fear was tingling throughout your entire body, your fingertips suddenly feeling numb as they pressed lightly against the window. The sound had disappeared just as quickly as it had come and for a moment you were able to convince yourself that it had just been some sort of hallucination. You had already been a little paranoid after seeing the latest breaking news and it was halloween time— of course you were bound to scare yourself a bit.

Just as the tension was leaving your body, the silence was broken by your phone ringing once more. You flinched in the slightest from how startled you were, a quiet curse leaving your lips as you discarded your previous task to grab your phone instead.

It was another blocked number and you momentarily thought about declining it once more, but curiosity was beginning to get the best of you. Against your better judgment, you accepted the call and pressed your phone against your ear.

“Hello?” you called out in a meek voice, the quiet sound of breathing on the other side of the line being the only greeting when you first spoke. “Who is this?” the voice questioned, sounding somewhat distorted but you assumed it was just your shitty phone service. “Well who are you trying to reach?” you asked in return, settling down onto the couch.

A low chuckle sounded from your phone, the person who was speaking to you seeming surprised by your question. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you who I’m trying to talk to” the disembodied voice quipped— and for a moment you could have sworn the person's voice was familiar. A light scoff left your lips, far too tired to stay on the phone with a creep who has nothing better to do than bother you.

“Sorry dude, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Take it easy” you muttered in reply, already pulling your phone away from your ear so that they had no time to respond. You set your phone on the coffee table so that you close the window, your hands slamming down the window harshly enough that the sound of it seemed to reverberate through the eerily silent house for far longer than it should’ve.

Just as you picked up your phone so that you could head upstairs to get to your bedroom, your phone began to buzz. You were growing frustrated with the calls now, your eyes narrowing as the lack of caller ID made itself known once more. For whatever reason, you picked up the phone once more and you were greeted by what you could only assume was the same voice of the person who was speaking to you before. “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” the voice questioned, their tone sounding a bit mocking which only added to your frustration. “Not a big fan of talking to strangers on the phone” you shot back quickly, your eyes focusing on the stairway that was just a few feet away.

“There's no way you want to be left alone though” they said calmly, not giving you any space to add another snarky remark before they continued. “I mean, you’re all alone in that big house on the corner. Now that just can’t be safe for a scared little thing like you” they breathed, the words coming out so nonchalant that if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have missed what was right in front of you.

Your eyes widened once her words finally set in, your head immediately turning back to look at the window you had closed moments ago. “What did you just say?” you asked in a meek voice, your lips parting in the slightest so you could breathe a bit easier as your heart pounded against your chest. “Do you really need me to repeat myself, princess?” they questioned and this time you knew you had heard this voice before. Their condescending tone was something you had heard countless times, yet who had been the person to speak to you in such a way was barely on the tip of your tongue.

Within a second of the fear finally taking over every last bit of your body, your finger was roughly pressing against your phone screen to end the call. You dropped your phone back onto the couch as if it was some sort of cursed object, your body seeming to move without your permission as you started rushing to each window you were near to make sure they were locked. It took a moment for you to gain enough courage to peer in the direction of the front door, the lock perfectly in place much to your relief.

There wasn’t any time to relax, as your phone continued to ring as you moved around your home. It was all too overwhelming, the sound of the television mixing with the sound of your ringtone to create a garbled mess that only added to your already agitated state. You could feel a headache taking form as you practically tiptoed back towards the living room to avoid making an unnecessary noise.

You knew it was idiotic to pick up a call from someone who practically confessed to knowing where you lived but some part of you was convinced you could still beg them to leave you alone. With shaky movements, you answered the call and backed yourself into the corner of the room so that you wouldn’t have to worry about someone coming up from behind you.

“It’s a little too late to be making sure the house is all locked up, don’t you think?” the voice began the moment you pressed your phone to your ear, your whole body shaking from the shiver that overtook you. They were in your fucking house— and they were watching you. Before you had picked up the call you had the slightest bit of hope that this person was playing some kind of sick joke, but there was no way they could’ve just guessed what you were doing so easily. “Jeez, you’re already watching my latest hit. You must be a big fan of my work, huh?” they added on, clearly referencing the horrific news story that you had previously been engrossed in.

Your chest began to heave as they revealed that they were the one person you feared the most, your nerves twisting with your rising frustration to create an awful mix of emotions that tore at your insides. “Listen asshole, my girlfriend is coming over any minute and she will kick your ass!” you lied, practically shouting into the phone although your voice shook in the slightest despite your attempt to sound intimidating. It wasn’t as if the person in your home knew what plans you had for the night, right?

“Oh no, not your girlfriend! I'm so scared” the killer said in a sarcastic tone, seeming completely unphased by your threat. Your brows furrowed at their reply, as you were done being toyed with. You took one final look at your surroundings to ensure there was no ghostly figure that was about to jump out at you before you sprinted towards the kitchen, your gaze landing on the set of large kitchen knives that sat on top of the kitchen counter.

The space was only lit up by the moon that was shining through the window but you didn’t want to slow down to turn on the lights, your hand reaching for the largest knife and extending it outwards rather clumsily as if it would protect you from the invisible force you were fighting against. “Fuck you” you spat into the phone, already pulling the phone away from your face so that you could call the cops and get the fuck out of the house but your actions were quickly halted.

“If you hang up on me one more time, I swear to god I will gut you like a fucking fish” they seethed, the threat making your hand tremble in the slightest as you brought the phone to your ear once more. It was as if all those horror movies you watched with Ellie countless times had taught you nothing, as all you could do was stand completely still while every part of your brain screamed at you to run out of the house as fast as you possibly could.

The moment of silence was filled by the sound of creaking that now sounded as if it was coming from somewhere near you, your breath hitching in your throat as your grip on the large knife tightened. You couldn’t keep up a strong facade any longer, hot tears rolling down your cheeks before you could make any attempt to conceal them. Soft sniffles were all you could offer, as you weren’t exactly sure that speaking first was the best idea after the last words they had spoken to you.

“Look at you, following my directions nice n’ easy. Your girlfriend must’ve trained you to behave so well” the distorted voice cooed, almost managing to sound truly affectionate. You let out a pitiful cry at the menacing words, the fight between you and Ellie that had occurred earlier in the day filling your mind. If you had just let her come over, none of this would be happening. All you could see was the look of sheer anger that had overtaken Ellie’s features when you had spewed those hurtful words to her and you would give anything to be able to take it all back. Tonight could’ve been spent curled up at her side on the couch with some cheesy horror movie playing on tv but instead, you were living in one.

You just wanted to hear Ellie’s voice at this moment, to have her tell you what to do to defend yourself. She was always telling you that you needed to be able to fend for yourself but you had never taken her seriously and now you were left with the overwhelming consequence of your actions. The thoughts had consumed you so much that you hadn’t even given a proper reply, although your silence didn’t seem to offend the person on the other side of the phone.

“What? Got nothin’ to say now, baby? I wanted to hear more about that girlfriend of yours but you can’t even speak properly” they muttered in a false tone of disappointment, a small sigh passing their lips before continuing on. “How about we play a little game? If you win, I’ll leave you alone— but if you get it wrong, m’ gonna have to kill you” they spoke in a relaxed tone, making your death sound as if it was going to be nothing more than a chore to them.

“I don’t want to play any games with you— please, just leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone about this, I swear” you pleaded, hiccups interrupting your words as you continued to cry. You were desperate to stop the tears, as they were blurring your vision further which made it practically impossible to see anything around you as you stood in the dark kitchen. A light scoff sounded from the phone which caused you to jump in the slightest, every little thing now scaring you beyond belief.

“Well if you really don’t want to play, I’ll just have to kill you. It takes the fun out of it for me but if that's how you want to do it—” the voice began to taunt you once more and you were quick to cut them off, shaking your head feverishly as if they could see you, and in all honesty they probably could see you. “No, I’ll play!” you practically shouted, praying that whatever game they chose would be somewhat fair.

Your eyes were darting around the dark space around you as if someone would jump out at any moment, your heart beating so harshly against your chest that you were almost positive it would burst through in a few seconds if you didn’t calm down. “Alright, make sure to listen cause I really don’t like repeating myself. There's four closets in your house, so go ahead and guess which one I’m in” they demanded, their confession of being inside already making your blood run cold.

It was completely unfair to make you think at a time like this, your mind so muddled that you were practically whining at their question. How the fuck were you supposed to know where they were? You knew there was no chance of you making it out alive if you didn’t at least try to guess where they were hiding. It was only a little while ago that you had heard creaking downstairs— or was it upstairs? A frustrated groan left your lips, your shaking hand lowering the knife as you tried to think back to the moment when you had heard it.

“Upstairs! You’re upstairs in my bedroom closet, the room on the left” you blurted without thinking it through, your eyes widening as you realized you had just taken your life into your own hands. “Ah— so close! But still wrong” they shot back quickly and you were almost positive they were smiling as they spoke.

You were full blown sobbing now, raising your arm so that the knife was facing away from you once more as you tried to figure out what to do. There was a chance that they were still in the other closet that was upstairs which meant you could hang up on them, call the police, and run like hell before they had the chance to catch up to you. Or they could already be downstairs and there was no time to call the police. You remained silent as the options ran through your mind, the killer never once interrupting your train of thought which you were rather grateful for.

After what seemed like hours of contemplating every little detail, you took a deep breath in and checked your surroundings one last time. Darkness seemed to consume all that you could see and that only caused your adrenaline to rise further. Your movements were done so quickly that you hadn’t even registered what you were doing until you were ending the call, shoving your phone into your back pocket before you took off towards the front door as quickly as you possibly could.

You weren’t even wearing any shoes but you couldn’t be bothered to care with your life on the line, the knife you were holding remained in front of you in a defensive manner as you moved through your home. The front door was in your line of sight and it was so close— you could practically feel the cool autumn air that was waiting for you just outside the door. You were so close to being free, your tears continuing to fall but from relief rather than fear.

This fucked up night could finally be over and you wouldn’t stop running until your lungs gave out on you. All you could think of was Ellie as you reached for the doorknob, already imagining how worried she would be when you told her about everything that happened tonight. Your hand was mere inches from the door, your fingertips barely grazing the cool metal of the doorknob before your motions were disrupted by the sound of a door swinging open.

The cloaked figure lunged at you the moment they came into view, the sight of the white mask filling you with utter terror as they dragged you away from the door. You were screaming as loud as possible, doing your best to alert your neighbors about what was going on. They were far stronger than you were despite the strength provided by your adrenaline, as they were able to grasp your wrist so that you were unable to make any attempts to swipe at them with the knife you were holding onto. Before you could realize what the killer was doing, they grabbed your phone from your back pocket and slammed it against the ground so that it was reduced to a shattered mess that you were left unable to use.

You were squirming around relentlessly, trying to free yourself from the bruising grip they had on you. They had gotten you pinned up against the wall to the side of the front door, knocking the last bit of air out of your lungs from how forceful they were being. It had taken an incredible amount of energy for you to finally manage to free one of your wrists from the hold they had on it, although it was devoid of any weapon.

Your hand raised towards the ghostly mask, half expecting ghostface to kill you right then and there for making an attempt to find out who they really were and yet they made no effort to stop your movements. You finally grasped the bottom of the mask, a pained squeak leaving your lips as their gloved hands dug into your soft flesh to keep you in place. In one swift motion, you managed to pull the mask off completely and you were greeted with a gut wrenching sight.

“Surprise, baby!” Ellie said in an all too cheery tone, her voice sounding a bit breathy from having to fight to keep you still. Her usually gentle features were splattered with blood, the metallic scent filling your nose due to how close she was to your own face. Her last victim must have gotten her mask off just as she sealed their doom, as that could be the only explanation for how she had managed to become covered in their blood. She must have come straight from her last kill— the one you had just viewed on tv.

It felt as if your world had just caved in or even exploded, you really couldn’t decide. Finding words after realizing your girlfriend was the one person you should’ve feared the most was a rather hard task, your lips parting countless times to speak and yet no words came out. Your tears had ceased to fall as you took in her slightly amused expression, your shaky hand dropping the mask onto the floor as your mind ran a mile a minute. Despite the overwhelming fear you felt, the sense of betrayal was far too much for you to keep down and it gave you just enough momentum to finally do something.

“You fucking liar” you spat, thinking of all the times Ellie had insisted that she had simply had her phone on silent or had fallen asleep early when you didn’t hear from her for hours at a time. You had confided in her about the fear you felt about all the murders that were happening in town and she had soothed you each time, insisting that she would be there to protect you if anything were to go wrong.

All the while, she was the one who had been causing you so many sleepless nights and she was the person who had taken so many innocent lives. A sick smile was beginning to take form on Ellie’s lips after you had spoken and you could already tell she was about to give you some sort of snarky reply. Her grip on you had relaxed ever so slightly since she believed you were too frightened to do anything and you knew this may be your only opportunity to get away from her.

Just as she was parting her lips to speak to you, you mustered up all your strength to tug your wrist up enough so that your hand that was still gripping the knife could make contact with her skin. You couldn’t reach very far due to her quickly realizing what you were trying to do, a grunt leaving her lips as she attempted to keep you still but she was too late. With a quick movement, you were able to make a swipe at her arm that was still making an attempt to hold you, blood rushing to the surface of her skin within the blink of an eye.

Ellie released you once the warm liquid began to drip down her arm, instinctively bringing a hand up to cover her wound before she could think about what she was doing. You didn’t wait to get her full reaction, sliding from where she had you pinned against the wall and running as if your life depended on it— and at this moment, it really did. Soft whimpers left your lips as you desperately tried to think of somewhere to hide before she caught up with you, your hand taking hold of the door leading into the garage the second she began calling out your name.

You hid behind the door, the knife still held tightly in your right hand while you clasped your other over your own mouth. Keeping your breaths quiet seemed almost impossible but you couldn‘t risk having any slip ups. The door was left slightly ajar on purpose, as you needed to be able to see Ellie as she moved throughout the house so you could make sure she was out of the way before you tried to get back to the front door.

Her cloaked figure was moving slowly, your name leaving her lips tauntingly as she suppressed the pained groans she so desperately wanted to let out. You had managed to cut her fairly deep and the blood soaking into her cheap halloween costume was direct proof of that. “Get out here you fucking coward” she seethed, her head whipping back towards your direction when you accidentally let out a sound of surprise at her loud voice booming throughout the home.

Your eyes widened at the realization of your mistake, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily as if it would make Ellie disappear completely. “If you come out now, I promise to play nice” she lied in a sickeningly sweet tone, her eyes narrowing as she got closer towards the very door you were standing behind. Her footsteps were heavy as she made her way towards you, your eyes beginning to well with tears once more as she got closer. For a moment you couldn’t tell what she was doing, as she had stopped so she could take off the black cloak completely. Wearing only a black tank top and jeans, you could now see that her body was littered with bruises, the gash you had just given her smudging her arm a dark red from her cloak pressing against her skin.

Ellie had been wearing her hoodies constantly these last few weeks but you hadn’t thought anything of it, as the chilly weather was enough to explain it away. But it explained why she had been keeping her clothes on the last few times she had managed to get you alone, always insisting that she just wanted to make you feel good. She would have you completely bare while she remained fully covered and you had never even given it a second thought. You wished that you would’ve paid more attention to all the signs pointing to her being the culprit, yet there was no way you could have ever guessed that she would even be capable of such heinous crimes.

After taking in her injured form, you watched her hand move towards her back pocket so she could pull something out. You could see something else that was tucked in the back of her jeans but you didn’t have enough time to get a look at it, as the sound of her switchblade flicking open had you focusing your attention back on her hand that now wielded the weapon. You felt as if the breath in your lungs was being stolen from you, your body backing up slightly so you could press yourself against the wall in the hopes that she wouldn’t see you.

Just as she was reaching for the doorknob, a noise cut through the silence that sounded like a dish clattering. You did your best to not make a single sound as she turned away from you, clearly believing that you were the one who had made the noise. For a second you believed fate was finally on your side, as one of the dishes in the sink must have slipped just enough to get her distracted. “I’ve got you now” she taunted, swiftly making her way towards the kitchen.

A quiet breath of relief left your lips once she was out of sight, your hand moving away from your lips so that you could take in a few gulps of air before making any sudden moves. Now that you could no longer see her, you could only assume her position in the house, her footsteps sounding far enough for you to open the door a bit wider. Your eyes darted in the direction of the staircase that was just down the hall, your heart pounding in your ears as you tried to decide if it was actually even possible for you to get upstairs without alerting her.

You would rather go for the front door but that had already proven to be the wrong move and she would already expect that from you. After a moment of contemplation, you drew in a deep breath that seemed to cause your whole body to shake before you carefully pulled open the door and bolted towards the stairs before you could overthink it.

You could spot your room as you reached the bottoms of the stairs, your body momentarily relaxing as you continued to rush as quickly and quietly as possible. You were so close— so close to being able to get away from whatever nightmare this was.

And yet, just as you reached the bottom of the steps, an uncaring hand tugged you back by your hair. The cry you let out was pitiful, your head spinning as you tumbled to the ground. You already knew what had happened but that didn’t lessen the blow of having to see Ellie right above you, using her knee to keep the rest of your body held down as she kept a tight hold on your wrists.

“You really are a fucking idiot, you know that?” she seethes, her chest heaving just the same as yours is. Crying would be futile at a time like this so you look up at her with nothing but betrayal and resentment. “Fuck you” you seethe, although your words only make her smile brightly. “Aw no, baby. We already played that game, remember?” she asks teasingly. You hated her more each time she opened her mouth and you wanted nothing more than to smack that stupid fucking smile off her face.

“W— why are you doing this?” you ask abruptly, your eyes scanning her features for even the slightest bit of regret and yet you came up empty. The question makes her scoff, as she couldn’t believe that was what you chose to ask at a time like this. “You’re so unoriginal” she huffs, although her grip on your wrist falters as she begins to speak. “You should know already” she continues on, her eyes remaining focused on your fearful expression.

“No one took his death seriously— no one. So why does everyone suddenly care when a bunch of asshole kids from a college get killed off, huh?” she begins, and you already know she is referencing Joel’s abrupt death. “I figured I’d give those cops something to do since all they’ve done is sit on their asses… those fucking bastards” she says, so lost in her confession that she doesn’t even feel the way you easily slip your wrist from her grasp and before she takes notice, you use all the strength you could muster to smack her, not giving two shits as to why she felt she had the right to harm others.

The hit makes her groan, her head turning from the force of it as her whole body weakens for a brief moment, just long enough for you to shove her off of you and make another run for your bedroom. You could hear Ellie screaming meaninglessly as you sprinted for your life towards your bedroom, the sound of her footsteps right behind you making it hard to breathe.

There was no time to slam the door before she got a hold on you again and she was going to make sure you knew she wasn’t fucking around this time. You were about to scream just to call attention to the house in case any neighbors happened to hear but you were quickly cut off when you felt a cool metal press against the side of your head.

She had a fucking gun— that was what you had seen tucked in her jeans earlier.

You felt as if your lungs were giving out, soft pleas beginning to fall from your lips as your body trembled in her hold. “Not so tough now, huh?” she questions, guiding you towards your plush bed and shoving you down on it, watching as you look up at her with teary eyes as she keeps the gun pointed at your head.

The sight of you being reduced to such a pathetic sight made something blossom in Ellie’s chest, a sick sense of pride. She tucked the weapon into the back of her jeans before slowly crawling into bed with you, her body straddling your own as she looks down at you curiously. You can’t speak even if you try, the words dying in your throat as you watch her pull out her switchblade instead.

She seems to relax, although you are tensing with each passing second as she brings the sharpened blade closer to your skin. You shake your head repeatedly, trying to reason with her. “Please— please don’t kill me” you begin to beg, the words leaving your lips countless times before they finally invoke a response from her. “Oh, angel. I don’t want to kill you. Just wanted to have some fun with you but then you had to make a big fuss, didn’t you?” she asks, her voice so soothing that you could feel your rational mind slipping away.

“You really hurt me, baby” she sighs, beginning to use her blade to slice through the fabric of your top effortlessly. You whimper, a bit too loud for her liking. “Shut the fuck up” she snaps, cutting into the band of your bra next, her rough hand messily tugging the ruined material to the side so she could get a perfect view of your tits. You felt all too exposed, your frown deepening as you looked up at her.

“So, are you gonna apologize for being so disrespectful?” she questions as she pushes up the material of your skirt, her blade catching on your panties. “Sorry” you mutter, squirming since her blade was uncomfortably close to your skin. Ellie’s patience was wearing, a low huff leaving her lips as she cut into the fabric. “Stop fucking moving!” she says exasperatedly, the loud words causing your body to still at once.

She sighs as she pulls the thin fabric away from your body, her eyes shamelessly focusing on your cunt, her hand carelessly shoving your thighs further apart. “Say it like you mean it” she demands, not at all impressed. Her words make you burn with shame, your mind racing as she brings her hand closer to your cunt that was beginning to become embarrassingly wet.

Just as your words began, her blade dug into your lower tummy in the slightest, barely enough to draw blood. “I’m sorry, Ellie! I didn’t mean it, I swear” you plead in a rushed voice, trying to focus on not moving at all so her blade wouldn’t push deeper into the soft skin of your stomach. Your chest heaved against your will and you were almost positive that this was the end for you,

Seeing you all teary eyed and frightened made Ellie dizzy with power and she finally pulled away the blade, tucking it into her pocket before giving you a little kiss on your lips, not at all caring that you didn’t even have time to react to the action. “Was that so hard, sweet girl? Can’t believe you made me hurt you” she says with a mocking pout.

All you can do is try to control your breathing, no longer attempting to struggle under the weight of her body. You knew your life was in danger but Ellie’s presence made it impossible for you to have any sort of rationality.

“C’mere” she mutters calmly, finally scooting back so that you could sit up. She could already tell she had gotten you right where she wanted you so she felt no concern about letting you sit up for the time being. She carelessly removed your torn clothes so that you were finally completely bare for her.

She couldn’t help herself, as her hand naturally lowered to deliver a few rough slaps against your tits. You flinched, the pain spreading quickly and making you huff a bit. It was hard not to be ashamed when you were completely nude and she was still fully clothed. Not to mention the fact that you were willingly allowing a ruthless killer to see you like this.

No words were spoken as she laid you back down, not paying you any mind as she lowered herself so she could settle between your legs. You knew better than to move at this point, so you settled for raising your head in the slightest bit so you could peek down at her.

Ellie didn’t bother to meet your gaze, her rough hands moving against your soft skin as she made sure you would be unable to press your thighs together. “Els…” you began, unsure of what you were even going to say. You didn’t even have the option to finish your sentence, as in the blink of an eye you could feel her warm breath against your cunt.

You flinched involuntarily as she pressed a messy kiss to your sensitive clit, her tongue flattening to lick a stripe against your slit afterwards. She only backed away to speak a few simple words. “Just keep your mouth shut” she muttered before returning to her previous movements.

The way her tongue sloppily moved against you showed a desperation you had never seen before, although the grip she had on your hips was proof of the anger that still lingered. You clasped your hand over your mouth, your brows knitting as you focused on how she would take little breaks to focus on sucking on your puffy bud.

Your shaky hips rocked against her mouth, her own moans filling the room as she took in your sweet taste. “You gonna let me open you up?” she asks ever so calmly, allowing her middle finger to press into your slick cunt so she could fuck you with it.

You were growing dizzy with a combination of guilt and pleasure, tears of frustration forming as she fucked you open. “Does it feel good, baby?” she asks, raising her head so she could look at your pathetic expression. You look at her for a moment, unsure if you were actually allowed to speak.

The sight of your unsure gaze made Ellie grin in the slightest, not giving any warning as she pushed a second finger into you. “S’ fine, I wanna hear you” she says, granting you the permission you had been seeking out. Your muscles relaxed as you were finally allowed to let out small moans, your tears now aimlessly streaming down your face.

“Mhmm, I can feel it so deep” you whisper, curses slipping out as you press your head back against your bed. Your small movements quickly became erratic, your body writhing as endless pleasure built. “Need to cum, please” you beg, as something tightening in your lower tummy told you that you were getting close.

“Not yet, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part” she hums, not caring about the shocked expression that took over your features. She halted the thrusting of her fingers to pull them out, your arousal still sticky against her skin.

You momentarily believed that she had no intentions of letting you get off and you simply couldn’t bear the thought after all you had been through tonight. You needed to feel release, sooner rather than later.

“I’ll do anything” you say quickly, your words so rushed that they almost don’t make sense to Ellie. Her eye refocus on you as she takes a moment to decipher what you had said, a smile making itself known as she reaches for an item still tucked into the back of her jeans.

“I know you will” she quips, finally revealing what she had been reaching for. Ellie loved how heavy the gun felt in her hand and it offered her a sense of control she had never felt previously. Your heart nearly leapt out of your throat, your muscles aching from how harshly you were tensing up.

The way you feverishly shook your head made you momentarily nauseous and you uttered the only words you could think of. “Please— don’t hurt me, I love you” you say breathlessly, feeling hurt at the way Ellie was quick to mutter a mocking version of your words.

“I’m not gonna hurt you unless you make me” she states nonchalantly, inching the gun closer to your cunt but not before taking the time to spit directly on your pussy to ensure you wouldn’t be in too much pain from the stretch.

You feel powerless as she finally presses the cool steel against your slit, the sound of her low voice reverberating inside your mind. “Make sure to keep still. You don’t want me accidentally pulling the trigger now, do you?” she asks with a sick smile.

The two of you already know your answer so you don’t bother with a verbal reply, instead you close your eyes tightly and brace yourself.

The barrel of the handgun eases into your cunt and you are thankful that she had the decency to make sure you were slick enough to take the weapon. Although that’s not to say that there wasn’t any pain, as low grunts were quick to leave your lips from how thick it was.

“Keep taking it, just like that” she coos, now beginning to properly fuck you with it. You had fallen weak to your desires, as it dawned on you that you were truly nearing your orgasm due to the fact that you were being fucked with a gun. The thrusts were deep and fast, your moans becoming borderline screams as your pleasure continuously built.

The barrel had grown warm from being within you and the way you were crying Ellie’s name let her know that you were on the brink of your climax. “Do it. Cum on my gun like the filthy girl you are” she mutters, rubbing your clit in time with the thrusts of the weapon.

And you didn’t need to be told twice, as with one loud cry, you had reached your orgasm. Ellie felt pride swell within her chest as she saw the white ring of your slick that had formed at the end of the barrel.

She eased the weapon out of your before using her tongue to shamelessly clean up the mess you had made on her weapon of choice. You were barely coherent, the exhaustion of all the fighting you had done catching up with you as well as the fact that your adrenaline was wearing off.

You didn’t even notice as she stood above you, phone in hand as she took a flash photo of your worn down state. Once the light made you squint, you could hear her voice right next to your ear but you couldn’t even see her.

“You tell anyone about what I did, I swear to god this picture will be plastered everywhere so everyone knows how much you love getting fucked by sickos. And if you ever talk back to me again, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even finish your sentence” she whispers.

By the time you can see clearly again, she is gone, leaving you to clean up the mess she had made. But even with her gone, you swore you could still feel her eyes on you and you knew once and for all, there was no way she would ever let you get away from her.

#ellie williams #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #dark!ellie #dark!fic

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chuellas · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Silence | E is for Edging

⤷ Ft. Dazai Osamu

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, edging, slight mind break, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, WC: 1k

A/N: Idk why but I struggled so hard with writing this one, I hope it came out just as well as the rest did <3

Dazai had been clingy all day, performatively so. You could sense that something was off, even for Dazai the dramatics were a little much. But trying to pry it out of him was never an option, so when he asked to come over you were simply resigned to accepting.

It has been what feels like hours since Dazai came over to your dorm and each passing second is becoming even more agonizing than the last. Dazai is toying with both of you tonight. He was quick to strip you of your clothes and have his way with you before the front door even fully shut. His desperate hands exploring your skin with urgency.

Nightly visits like these usually only last about an hour, maybe two, but tonight is definitely different. It’s been almost three hours and Dazai isn’t letting either one of you finish. You’ve been on the edge for probably two and half of those hours and it’s torture.

This is cruel and unusual punishment and it’s all Dazai’s fault.

Every time one of you is about to come he slows down or pulls out completely only to distract you by kisses. His lips sear every inch of your body. Dazai gives you absolutely no time to protest or to rest. It gives you each only a few moments before he’s diving into you again with the same agonizing pace he’s set, slower and harder than usual.

You're a mess, your brain has been turned to mush and the only coherent thought you’ve managed to keep intact is the need to release. Your ability to speak is in the same condition. Pleas of your need to release spilling from your swollen lips, but they fall on deaf ears because Dazai clearly has no plans of granting any of your requests.

The brunette is too caught up in his own need to release. He isn’t just torturing you, but himself too. He can’t rip his eyes away from the way your glistening sloppy cunt sucks him in and keeps a vice grip hold. He’s not sure where the self control is coming from but he barely manages to keep this up. The only thing keeping him from letting you finally cum is the thought of having to go back to his dorm and spend the rest of this night alone with his own thoughts.

He’d be damned if he let that happen when your company is so, so much sweeter than his own.

Even now, your incoherent words sound like music to his ears. “‘Samu…’Samu, please. I can't- ‘s too much- ahh- I need to- oh my god- I need to cum, please, please…”

It’s getting harder for Dazai to deny you and he thinks he’s on the verge of giving in. Even so, Dazai’s movement instinctively slows down and you let out a hiccuped sob. He looks down at you and he really thinks he’s gonna lose all senses. You are a beautiful mess — a devastatingly beautiful mess. Your hair is matted down on your face from a mix of tears and sweat. Your eyes rimmed red from the amount of crying you’ve done. Skin flushed the prettiest pink color and marks littered your body, courtesy of Dazai himself.

In the split moment it takes for the agent to admire you, clearly distracted, you wrap your legs around his waist. It’s your desperate attempt to keep him close and finally give you what you’ve been begging him for. As if Dazai’s conviction hadn’t already been crumbling, this was the final blow to send it crashing all the way.

Dazai picks up his speed and crashes his lips into your own as you both finally find that release you’ve been chasing for hours. Your room is filled with muffled moans mixed together and the wet sound of Dazai’s hips crashing into yours before stilling completely and spilling inside of you. Everything is dizzy and Dazai can’t form a single thought. His mind is filled with fog and his ears stuffed with cotton. Nothing is registering but the white hot pleasure pooling in his stomach and spreading through his entire body like electricity.

His length throbs inside of you with each release of his seed that he’s pouring into you. The build up made his plummet last longer than it usually would. His whole body twitches, already hypersensitive and he hasn’t even completely finished inside of you yet. Dazai’s vision focuses and you’re in no better shape. Your eyes are still screwed shut and your body is borderline convulsing. The tight grip you have around both his waist and his cock keeps him from pulling away from you at all.

When you’ve both come down, the brunette can’t bring it in himself to get up to clean himself and leave. Instead he collapses into your hold, laying face down into your chest. By the sound of your breathy chuckle and the way you begin to run your fingers through his hair, despite it being wet from sweat, Dazai can tell you’ve come back to reality.

Dazai shifts, making an effort to pull away but the action is stiff. He doesn’t want to leave but he knows if he doesn’t, he will be overstaying his welcome. Your hold on him, however, doesn't falter and you let out a soft hum.

“Stay.” Dazai’s head shoots up at that and he just stares at you for a few moments. You’re visibly nervous and start to elaborate when you really don’t need to because Dazai was already sold by the single syllable. “It’s later than usual and I really don’t mind the company. Also your body must be exhausted.”

Dazai tries to widen his eyes in shock but the detective’s eyelids become too heavy for him to keep open anymore and he wordlessly resigns. His head drops back to your chest — this time he makes sure to make himself more comfortable on top of you. He decides to stay nestled in between your thighs even though he’s softened now.

Dazai doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t think he has to, his body language is enough to tell you he’s not going anywhere.

#dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #dazai x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stry dogs x fem!reader #bsd dazai #writings ʚїɞ

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rafeskai · 6 months ago

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Soft Spot — Rafe Cameron

Requested by @a-j-stuffs

Summary: One wild summer night, a bonfire turns intense, shaking up the dynamic between you and your lifelong friend, Rafe Cameron. When things get out of hand, emotions spill over, and the bond you’ve always shared starts to feel… different. As you deal with the fallout, layers you didn’t know existed start peeling back, showing a side of Rafe you hadn’t fully seen before. It’s a mix of fear, loyalty, and something deeper brewing under the surface. What happens next makes you question everything about where the two of you really stand.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings: profanities, violence, implied smut

The rivalry between the Kooks and Pogues was just part of life on the Outer Banks, but you had always thought it was ridiculous. Growing up as part of the Figure Eight elite came with its own perks and pressures, but you never saw yourself as better than anyone else. That mindset earned you side-eyes from both Kooks and Pogues, though you didn’t care much—especially now that Sarah Cameron’s relationship with John B had brought you closer to the so-called enemy.

Still, your longest friendships were with the boys you grew up with—Rafe Cameron, Topper Thornton, and Kelce. The trio had been a constant in your life since childhood. Even with their egos and bad decisions, you knew they had your back. Rafe especially had always been different with you. Your families were close, and that bond extended to the two of you. Beneath his rough edges and impulsive nature, Rafe was someone you trusted—a boy who seemed to turn into a better version of himself when you were around.

Tonight’s bonfire was supposed to be a distraction. The kind of wild, chaotic gathering where the lines between Kooks and Pogues blurred just enough for everyone to coexist. Sarah had convinced you to come, promising she’d stick by your side.

“Just an hour,” she’d said, grinning as she grabbed your hand and led you toward the glowing fire.

But Sarah had a habit of getting caught up in her own world, and the moment John B arrived, she was gone. You didn’t mind at first. The air was warm, the music loud, and the fire crackled against the night sky. It was the kind of summer night that should have felt perfect.

Until he showed up.

The man wasn’t someone you recognized—tall, with a rough edge to his features and a sloppiness to his movements that screamed drunk. His clothes were Kook-preppy, but his demeanor was far from charming.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, his grin too wide as he stepped into your space. “Why’re you standing here all alone?”

You took a small step back, clutching your red Solo cup tighter. “I’m not alone,” you said evenly. “Just waiting for someone.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, swaying slightly but still managing to block your path.

You glanced around the crowd, hoping to spot someone—anyone—familiar. “My friends,” you lied.

His grin twisted, and he leaned closer, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. “C’mon, don’t play hard to get. You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, trying to step around him, but he grabbed your arm before you could.

His grip was rough, and it made your stomach drop. “Don’t be like that,” he said, his voice darkening. “You’re too pretty to be so cold.”

Your chest tightened. “Let go of me.”

The man didn’t listen. Instead, he tightened his grip and pulled you closer, his other hand brushing against your shoulder. “Relax, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lie shattered the moment he yanked you hard, his fingers digging into your arm. You stumbled, the pain sharp enough to make you cry out.

“Stop!” you said, your voice cracking, but he ignored you.

The panic surged like a tidal wave, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he was too strong. His hand moved to your waist, and fear turned your legs to jelly.

“HEY!”

The shout came from behind you, and the man froze. You turned your head just enough to see Topper running toward you, his face a mix of shock and fury.

“Get your hands off her!” Topper bellowed, closing the distance in seconds.

The man released you abruptly, his grip leaving your arm throbbing. You stumbled backward, nearly falling before Topper caught you.

“Stay here,” Topper said, his voice tight with anger as he turned and bolted back toward the fire.

Moments later, Rafe appeared, his eyes scanning the scene. When they landed on you, his expression changed. The anger in his face turned cold, deadly.

“Who?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

You didn’t have to say anything. Rafe’s gaze shifted to the man, who was already trying to slink back into the crowd. Without another word, Rafe stormed toward him, his entire body radiating fury.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rafe growled, shoving the man hard.

The stranger stumbled, muttering something incoherent before straightening up. “It’s not a big deal, man,” he slurred. “She’s just being a prude.”

The words barely left his mouth before Rafe swung. His fist connected with the man’s jaw, the force sending him to the ground.

“Rafe, stop!” you screamed, your voice breaking, but he didn’t hear you.

Rafe was on top of him, fists flying in a blur of rage. Each punch landed with a sickening crack, blood splattering against the sand.

“She said no!” Rafe roared, his voice shaking with fury.

It took both Topper and Kelce to pull him off. Even then, Rafe fought against their grip, his chest heaving and his knuckles coated in blood.

The man groaned, clutching his face as he lay motionless in the sand.

“Let’s get out of here,” Topper muttered, pulling Rafe back as Kelce threw an arm around your shoulders protectively.

The four of you left the bonfire behind, the chaos fading as you walked toward the quieter part of the beach.

Rafe finally turned to you, his expression softening as he saw the tears in your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You nodded, but the truth was written all over your face. Your hands were still shaking, your arm throbbing where the man had grabbed you. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yes, I did. He hurt you. He scared you.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you reached for his hand, wincing at the sight of his split knuckles. “You’re hurt,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away as you dabbed at the blood with a tissue.

“Let’s go.” He intertwines his hand with yours and leads you to your car.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The walk back to your car was silent, tension weaving itself between you and Rafe. Topper and Kelce had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving just the two of you under the soft glow of the moon. The waves crashed gently in the background, but the sound did little to calm your nerves.

Rafe had barely spoken since leaving the bonfire, his knuckles still bloodied from the fight. Every few steps, you stole a glance at him, the hard line of his jaw and the storm brewing behind his blue eyes making your stomach twist.

You reached your car and hesitated, fumbling with your keys. “Rafe, let me drive you home,” you offered softly.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” he said firmly, his voice low but resolute.

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Nodding, you unlocked the car, and the two of you climbed in. The silence followed you the whole drive to your house, broken only by the occasional deep breath Rafe took to calm himself.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive to your house was quiet, the tension between you and Rafe thick enough to cut with a knife. His hands, bloodied and bruised, rested on his lap as he stared out the window, his jaw clenched tight. You wanted to say something, but the words caught in your throat every time you opened your mouth.

When you finally reached your place, you parked the car and turned to him. “Come inside,” you said softly.

Rafe hesitated, his gaze flicking to you before nodding. “Okay.”

The house was dark and still, the only sound the faint creak of the floorboards as you led him to the living room. You flicked on a small lamp, casting a warm glow over the room, and gestured for him to sit on the couch.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but you gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks.

“Sit,” you repeated, your tone leaving no room for argument.

With a reluctant sigh, Rafe sat down, leaning back against the cushions as you disappeared into the bathroom. When you returned with the first aid kit, his eyes softened just a little, the hard edges of his expression giving way to something gentler.

You knelt in front of him, taking his hand carefully in yours. His knuckles were split and raw, and blood smeared across his skin like war paint. “This is going to sting,” you warned, dabbing a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic against the wounds.

Rafe flinched slightly but said nothing, his eyes fixed on you as you worked. The silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Why do you always do this?” you asked quietly, breaking the stillness.

“Do what?”

“Fight. Lose your temper. Get yourself hurt.” Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the emotions you were trying to keep in check.

Rafe exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. “Because I have to,” he said finally, his voice low.

“You don’t have to,” you argued, meeting his gaze. “You choose to. But why?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he sighed, his eyes softening as they locked with yours.

“Because it’s you,” he said simply. “You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m not completely fucked up.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your chest tightening as you tried to process them. “Rafe…”

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” he continued, his voice raw. “And I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you. Not ever.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something in you. For years, you’d seen glimpses of the real Rafe—the one who hid behind bravado and anger—but hearing him lay it all out like this was overwhelming.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “Just let me…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but you didn’t need him to. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, as if he was giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest as the kiss deepened.

The air between you crackled with a tension that had been building for years, a mix of desire, anger, and unspoken emotions. Rafe’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves buzzing under your skin.

Rafe’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile before he kissed you again, his hands tightening around you as he guided you onto the couch. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you tangled together in the soft glow of the lamplight, the unspoken promise of something more lingering in the air.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction

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mywritersmind · 7 months ago

Note

hi love!! how are you??💗

theres such a lack of franco stuff 💔 so since i just saw u were asking for ideas what about maybe franco and the reader have had feelings for each other for a while but kept them to themselves and something happens that provokes franco to confess 🤭 or the other way around :)) you can do whatever you want <3

JEALOUSY - FC43

listen up : no warnings!! thanks for the request this is super fun and proud of franco for q3 today🧉🫡 keep requesting!!

word count : 1200

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Hi love.” Franco says smoothly in my ear, his hand resting on my waist as I take the drink out of his hand, coughing and handing it back quickly. He frowns, “I thought you would like this.”

I shake my head, “Gross.” My friends all look at us as he sips the drink.

“Just fuck and get it over with.” My friend says, making everyone laugh except Franco and I. I raise a brow at them as they apologize and scurry away.

I step away and look at Franco, his eyes are wandering around the club. He’s in all black, his waves big and as a piece falls in his face, he catches me staring.

We’re friends. I know that. And I love him for it. He’s respectful and kind, flirty and hilarious, and will never leave me behind. But sometimes it’s hard, I feel like we have these moments then it just disappears.

“Love?” He asks and fuck me, that nickname gets me everytime. I look away and try to hide my blush but he grabs my chin and turns my head back, a grin on his face and a spark in his eyes.

“I need an actually drinkable drink!” I yell over the music as he laughs and stands up straighter.

“I’ll grab you something.” He says it quickly but I shake my head.

“No chance, Colapinto!” I back up, “Don’t cry without me.”

“Unlikely.” He winks and when I turn, my cheeks are still hot. My friends give me a look and I can’t help but smile, I like Franco. I can’t help it.

You try having your best friend flirt with you while looking like that.

I’m still smiling when I order my drink. I almost don’t notice the man sliding up next to me. He’s tan and blonde, he smiles at me and I politely smile back, looking away.

When he doesn’t move, I look back to him again, “Hi- Sorry, I couldn’t help but come up to you. You’re gorgeous.”

I smile politely, “Uh, Thank you!” I am single, even if my mind tricks me sometimes when I look at Franco.

“You here alone?” I’m about to say no but when I turn to look at Franco, I laugh out loud. He’s with a girl, she’s pretty with dark skin and boobs that Franco’s getting distracted by.

“Yes!” I turn back to him, “I am!” The bartender hands me my drink and I start on it immediately, “I’m Y/n.”

He smiles, “JJ.” He starts talking about himself and as I listen, my hand goes to his arm and he scoots a bit closer.

I find myself genuinely laughing at things he says, not because I find him funny but I find what he’s saying ridiculously stupid.

I can’t help but look back at Franco, he’s staring at me. That’s surprising. The girl is still next to him, smiling and talking still.

I raise my brows at him and he does the same to me. I mouth, ‘What?’ but he just rolls his eyes and looks back at the girl. Fuck. Him.

“Y/n? Are you listening to me?” I look back at the man who didn’t even ask me a question, as he frowns.

“Dude, I don’t even remember your name.” I take my drink and walk away. I see Franco follow me out of the corner of my eye.

I groan, walking past my friends as they ask me what’s wrong, “I’m gonna go!” They start to follow me out but stop when they see Franco.

I set my drink down and keep maneuvering through the crowd, the fresh air finally hitting me. “Y/n!” He yells after me but I keep walking, ignoring the cold.

I don’t say anything so he calls after me again, “Y/n! You can’t just leave alone!”

I roll my eyes and turn around, “What do you want me to do then? Go home with that blonde?” I say sarcastically as his face drops.

We’re farther away from any people now, “No. I wanted you to come get me.”

“And take you away from your attention holder? No thanks.”

He shakes his head, “This can’t be because you’re jealous.” he scoffs, “I was having a conversation! And we’re not…” he trails off and I groan.

“We’re not what, Franco? And I'm not the one that is jealous in this situation! You were giving him a death glare.”

“Yeah well the way he was looking at you, he deserved it.” I roll my eyes and start to walk away again but he grabs my arm, “Wait- Y/n! I don’t get it.”

“Seriously? Are you that fucking blind or just plain stupid!?” He looks shocked I would yell at him.

Well I'm pissed off and angry at him. “You can't complain about some guy talking to me when you were otherwise occupied.”

“She- No. Y/n, I was barely listening to her. She fucking recognized me and I couldn’t hear a thing she said because you were laughing with that douche bag!”

I cross my arms, his touch leaving me. “You don’t even know him.”

“What’s his name, Y/n. I’ll get to know him.” He raises a brow as I look away, “I just- Fuck it’s hard. And I don’t want some slimy prick hitting on you!”

“Right, cause you’re the only slimy prick who gets to do that.” He lets out a dry laugh. “You are jealous!”

“Of course I am!” His tone makes me frown, he sighs then looks me in the eye, “I don’t want to share you. I hate being your friend because all I can think about is us kissing but that’s weird because you don’t want more and I'm trying to be respectful and a gentleman but shit, Y/n. You’re making it really hard.”

I just stare at him, frozen. He speaks again, “And I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not sorry for getting you to ditch that guy but…” I laugh a bit and it makes him smile, “I’m sorry for not saying this sooner.”

I shake my head, everything I've dreamed about coming true in the matter of minutes, “Franco.”

“If you’re gonna reject me, just get it over with please.” I laugh and his face tells me it doesn’t make him feel better.

“Franco.” He meets my eyes again as I move my hands to his neck, then jaw, reaching up and kissing him softly, “I really like you too.”

He freezes for a second and I'm worried I've done something wrong. But then his face breaks into a grin and he kisses me again, wrapping his arms around me and spinning me in the air.

I laugh as he hugs me, “This is the best day of my life.” He sets me down as my cheeks start to hurt from my smile.

“I thought your F1 debut was the best day of your life?” His hands slide to my waist as he shakes his head rapidly.

“Fuck that. Better things have come!” He kisses me again and I melt into him, “You’re better than anything I could have asked for.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto x reader

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stargazsblog · 2 months ago

Text

what happens in vegas | ch.2 the deal

satoru gojo x fem!reader

୨ৎ after a messy breakup, you go to vegas with your best friend, shoko, to forget about everything. a night of partying and drinking, you wake up in a hotel room with a stranger in your bed and a ring on your finger, with zero idea what happened. that stranger? satoru gojo-some guy you barely know. turns out, you two might've gotten married. now you've got to figure out what to do with this mess.

୨ৎ warning/tags: fluff, romance, jealousy, no smut (im sorry), sexual references, some angst, use of alcohol, inspired by what happens in vegas.

note: this chapter is short i’m sorry!

masterlist

“Why not just get a divorce?“ Suguru said, adjusting his sleeves as they strolled toward the breakfast area. “What’s stopping you?”

Satoru sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s complicated.”

"Complicated how? You sign some papers, pay her off, and boom—freedom," Toji said, making a dramatic exploding gesture with his hands.

“If Sukuna were here, he’d be laughing his ass off,” Suguru added. “He’d say marriage is just an overpriced contract.”

Toji smirked, shaking his head. “He’s back home with his new girlfriend.”

“New?” Suguru raised a brow. “Let me guess—he got bored? Now that I think about it, we never even met his ex.”

“We didn’t,” Toji confirmed. “Which is weird, considering how long they were together. What was it—three years?”

Suguru let out a low whistle. “Three years? And we never met her? That’s a first. Didn’t think Sukuna was capable of long-term relationships.”

Satoru hummed. “Maybe she wasn’t like the others.”

“Or maybe she just didn’t want to be around us,” Toji smirked. “Smart girl.”

They all chuckled, but Satoru’s mind had already shifted back to his current situation.

His family had been on his ass about settling down for years, sending one woman after another in front of him like he was some kind of prize. It was getting old.

This accidental marriage? It’s the perfect excuse to make them stop. As long as he’s married, they won’t keep pushing him to settle down. But if he gets a divorce, they’ll just start the whole thing over again.

Satoru bit his lip, turning the thought over in his head. Then, slowly, a smirk crept onto his face.

“Maybe this is a good idea,” he said, voice light, almost amused. “I mean, my parents have been bothering me about getting married forever.”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “So, what? You’re gonna trick her into staying married just to shut your parents up?”

Satoru shrugged. “Trick is a strong word.”

Toji scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Suguru, meanwhile, just snorted, shaking his head. “Honestly? That might be the dumbest yet smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

Satoru grinned. “That’s my specialty.”

Toji ran a hand down his face. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Maybe. But at least my parents will leave me alone.”

“Yeah? And what about her?” Suguru asked, tilting his head. “Think she’s just gonna roll with this?”

Satoru opened his mouth, but his eyes flickered across the breakfast area—and there you were. Sitting at a table with Shoko, leaning forward as she whispered something.

Satoru’s smirk deepened, his tone dripping with amusement. “She’ll come around.”

Toji followed his gaze and let out a short laugh. “This I gotta see.”

After the morning disaster, you couldn’t stand being in Satoru's room for another second. You found Shoko in the hotel room you guys shared, pacing back and forth like she’d just run a marathon.

You both were freaking out about what happened last night, still trying to process it. Now, here you were, sitting down in the breakfast area, trying to distract yourselves with food.

“I think you guys look kinda cute in this photo. Look!” Shoko said, talking with her mouth full as she shoved her phone in your face.

You groaned, already regretting it. On the screen was a picture of you and Satoru at the altar in Vegas, kissing. Your hair was a mess, your makeup was ruined. In the background, Shoko was crying while holding a half-empty champagne bottle.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, covering your face. “We look terrible.”

Shoko snorted. “Nah, just two people deeply in love… with alcohol.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full, it’s gross,” you said, cringing.

“Gross? Says the girl who made out with Satoru in front of an Elvis impersonator.”

You groaned louder, slumping back into your chair. This was a disaster. A complete disaster. You had just gotten out of a breakup, and now you were married. What were you even supposed to say to your parents? To anyone when you got back home?

“Besides,” Shoko said, licking syrup off her fork, “didn’t you say his room was bigger than ours? That means he’s crazy rich. And since you guys are married, that’s basically your money now.”

You shot her a glare. “I’m not taking his money, Shoko.”

She shrugged, popping another bite of pancake into her mouth. “Suit yourself. But if I were you, I’d at least get a designer bag out of it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “This is such a mess. I can’t believe I’m married to him. I don’t even know how to tell anyone back home. How do you explain this?”

Shoko let out a bitter laugh, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Yeah, good luck with that one. ‘So, Mom, I got married in Vegas… to a guy I didn’t even know.’ Perfect story for the family, right?”

You looked up, rolling your eyes. “Really helpful, Shoko.”

She shrugged, still poking at her food. “Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I mean, we could just get a divorce, right?” you said, letting the words slip out before you really thought about it. “We don’t know each other, so we can just act like strangers and pretend like we never got married?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Divorce? You know that’s not how it works, right? It’s not just a quick fix.”

You leaned back in your chair, still feeling the weight of everything. “I know, but… I don’t know how else to fix this. It’s not like we even know each other.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. You poked at your food, your mind wandering to the mess you’d found yourself in. You couldn’t stop thinking about Sukuna. Would he get mad? Upset? You immediately pushed the thought away. He cheated on you. You shouldn’t care what he thinks anymore.

Suddenly, Shoko gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh shit,” she murmured under her breath.

You looked up, confused. “What? What is it?”

Shoko’s eyes flicked behind you. “Look.”

You slowly turned your head, following her gaze. And then you saw them—Satoru and his two friends walking toward your table.

Your heart skipped a beat. Of course, Satoru had to show up now. And of course, his friends—those annoyingly charming guys—were with him. Great.

You slumped in your seat, trying to act casual, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

Satoru finally reached your table, his eyes immediately locking with yours as that cocky grin never faded. “Well, well,” he said, sliding into the chair next to you with too much ease, “look at you, Mrs. Gojo. Still looking as stunning as ever.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He was so cocky for someone who just got married to a stranger. “Really? Is that really what you’re going to say to me?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation. “I mean, it’s true, isn’t it? Can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

You felt your annoyance grow, but you kept your cool, forcing yourself not to snap at him. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

Before Satoru could respond, he casually motioned to the two guys who had just slid into the chairs across from you. “Anyway, let me introduce you to my friends,” he said. “This is Toji,” he pointed to the guy who looked intimidating, Toji was muscular, with short-cropped hair.

Then Satoru gestured to the quieter figure beside him. “And this is Suguru,” he said, his tone dropping slightly. Suguru was a tall guy with dark, calm eyes and dark hair that partially fell over his forehead. He gave you a polite nod, a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shoko had mentioned she’d slept with a guy named Suguru. And considering Satoru had casually mentioned one of his friends might’ve kept her company, you assumed it was Suguru. You glanced at Shoko, your eyes asking without words. She gave you a quick nod, confirming your suspicions without uttering a word.

Toji stretched, glancing at you like it was the most normal thing in the world. “So, you’re the one who got stuck with Satoru, huh?” His voice was low and smooth. Toji’s tone made it clear he was enjoying the chaos of the situation.

“Seems like a real… interesting morning,” Suguru remarked, clearly trying to keep the mood light.

Shoko looked over at you, her eyebrows raised as she gave you a silent look that said it all—I can’t believe this is happening either. She shifted in her seat, glancing at the three men now surrounding you, clearly trying to keep it together. You could tell she was doing her best not to laugh at how ridiculously uncomfortable this all felt.

The silence stretched on, and you could feel your frustration growing. Satoru, of course, was still too casual about everything, but it wasn’t helping that the tension.

Finally, Shoko, the good friend that she is, broke the silence. “So… how long are you guys staying in Vegas for?” she asked, her voice light and trying to ease the situation.

Suguru, looking almost bored, replied, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Shoko echoed, her tone upbeat as if she was trying to keep the conversation going. “Well, we’re leaving tomorrow morning too. What a coincidence. Where do you guys live?”

“Tokyo,” Suguru said, barely sparing her a glance. There was an awkward tension in his voice, and it was clear there was something unsaid between him and the others, but no one was talking about it.

Your eyes widened at his response. Tokyo? That’s where you lived. You were married to a complete stranger, and now you found out that he lived in the same city as you? The irony hit you hard, and it was like the universe was mocking you.

You couldn’t help but lean back in your chair, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Great,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Just great.”

You were still trying to process everything when you felt a light poke on your arm.

You turned your head slightly, already knowing who it was.

Satoru.

He was leaning toward you with that same lazy grin on his face, blue eyes sparkling like this was all just one big joke.

“Why are you ignoring your husband?” he asked, tilting his head with mock innocence.

You stared at him blankly. Of course he’d say that. Of course he was acting like this was no big deal. You swore he was like a little boy who couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.

“I don’t know,” you said flatly, turning back to your barely touched plate. “Maybe because I don’t remember agreeing to be anyone’s wife.”

Satoru placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch. That one actually hurt a little.”

You took a deep breath and turned to him. “Can we talk?” you asked, your voice low but firm. “Alone. Please.”

His playful grin didn’t falter, but you could see the slight shift in his expression as he stood up. “Oh? My wife wants a private chat. I’m down.”

You didn’t even grace him with a response, just walked ahead toward a quieter corner of the lobby.

Somewhere away from Shoko’s amused glances and his friends’ nosy stares. Once you both stopped near an empty hallway by the elevators, you turned around, arms crossed tightly.

“I want a divorce.”

Satoru raised his brows like you’d just told him you hated puppies. “You’re breaking up with me already?” he said. “We’ve had such a long and beautiful marriage. How could you throw it all away?”

You rolled your eyes hard enough to see the back of your head. “Don’t act like this is some tragic love story. We got drunk. We got married. And now we’re going to undo it.”

He shrugged lazily. “I mean… sure, we could get a divorce. But that sounds so… boring.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What does that mean?”

Satoru leaned against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “What if we didn’t? Just for a little while?”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets. “Look, my family’s been trying to marry me off for years. But if I tell them I’m already married? They’ll back off.”

You blinked. “So… you want me to just stay married to you so your parents leave you alone?”

Satoru grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself way too much for someone in a situation this ridiculous.

“Look, all you have to do is come live with me for a while,” he said, like he was offering you a vacation package instead of a life-altering decision. “We can sleep in separate rooms, act like a happily married couple for a few days—or weeks, maybe even months. Who knows, maybe even forever if you really want.” He winked.

You stared at him, deadpan. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also charming. And think about it—what’s worse? A fake marriage or dealing with the paperwork and lawyers and whatever hell a Vegas divorce requires?”

You crossed your arms, still trying to wrap your head around it. “And what do I get out of this, huh?”

He leaned in, that cocky sparkle in his eyes never fading. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Name it.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Okay, I want to fly on a private jet to Hawaii, reserve the entire beach just for us, and stay in a mansion with a private chef who only cooks five-star meals.”

It was obviously a joke. Your tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you gave him a look that said get real.

“Deal,” Satoru said without missing a beat, already pulling out his phone.

You blinked at him. “Wait—what are you doing?”

He shrugged casually. “Booking our honeymoon.”

You squinted at him. “Satoru—”

He puts his phone back in his pocket, letting out a small laugh. “Relax, I know you’re kidding. I’m not clueless.”

You let out a sigh, that does sound fun, but doing all that with him sounds like hell. You bit your lip, trying to think if this was a good idea. Just act like a happy married couple, right? How hard can it be? It’ll only be for a couple of weeks, maybe months.

“Okay,” you mutter, feeling like you’re already selling your soul. “Fine, you’re gonna pay for my rent for six months.” Since you won’t be home for a while, might as well let him cover your rent.

His grin widened, that cocky gleam never leaving his eyes. “Done. Anything else? Designer wardrobe? Private chef? I’ve got options.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? You think I want all that?”

Satoru shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, I’m prepared for any request. You want the stars? I can get them for you.”

“Look, I’m not asking for a whole damn mansion or anything.” You shook your head, almost feeling like you were playing a game you didn’t agree to, but here you were. “Six months of rent is enough. We’re pretending to be married, not living in a fairy tale.”

“Fair enough,” Satoru said with a sly wink. “But if you change your mind about that private jet, just let me know.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to snap at him. You couldn’t deal with this right now. As much as it felt like an impossible situation, it also seemed like the best option. A little fake happiness in exchange for your freedom. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You exhaled, eyes narrowing as you pointed a finger at him. “Just know—after all of this? You’re signing those divorce papers. No running. No cute speeches. Just your name and a signature.”

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, that playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Fine by me.” He leaned in just a bit, smirking. “Now that we’re all settled… can I get a kiss?”

You scoffed, walking away from him. “You can get lost.”

He chuckled behind you, voice smooth as ever. “So that’s a maybe?”

You rolled your eyes, already regretting every decision that led to this moment.

Satoru Gojo, the guy you married drunk in Vegas, asked you to fake a marriage with him.

What kind of rom-com nightmare had you just walked into?

taglist: @vehuzzzz @sleepykittyenergy @n1vi @nakiich @artbligh @miizuzu @seternic @luciferlikesducks @marjoryvamos @ratedrrrr @charlotterosea13 @shoruio @bananaminn @sexylexy12 @lilychan176 @yamato-my-beloved

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xazse · 1 year ago

Note

hear me out...fucking afab gojo in like canon au over his desk and him squirting all over important documents teehee (also like maybe add pussy slapping..its so hot idk why)

AFAB!GOJO x MALE!READER

Notes: pussyslapping really is hot

Pairings: Afab!Gojo x Male!Reader

Tags: Dom!Reader, Crying, pussyslapping, a little bit of manhandling, squirting

“Hold still Satoru, How are we supposed to make you feel even more good if you keep squirming” you inquire in his ear, he tries to answer you but is met by more aching pleasure.

Here you have him sat on your lap, legs spread wide open on either side of your legs, you have him in such an embarrassing, comprising postion. You’ve purposely made him face your desk, facing your important documents that meant a lot to your company.

Your cock is resting painfully under his ass, you’d been trying not to focus on yourself but instead on him, so far he’s only cum two times, that’s not nearly enough in your standards.

“Hnngh.. oh..” Satoru moans knock you out of your thoughts and begin fingering fucking his pussy again, starting the cycle again. He’s so incredibly wet: the slick sounds of you abusing his pussy has him starting up his crying again.

You remove your fingers from him and slap his clit roughly, “No crying remember? We agreed” he cries out while his body twitches upwards.

“My god Satoru, you sound like a fucking woman” you laugh out loud a little and continue your ministrations.

Slipping your fingers back into his cunt, you press a little deeper than before, stretching him out just a little more. He doesn’t know if he can take another orgasm, his body feels like it’s on fire, he can feel everything when you enter him, any attempt to relieve you is met with another harsh clap on his clit, it hurts so bad but he can’t find it in himself to ask you to stop.

He leans his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with so much adoration and love, he whines at you for a kiss, something to distract himself, you obliged, already starting to suck on his tongue lewdly, slurping sounds that make his pussy clench around your fingers. Soft breaths of air leave his lips every-time you part, but you quickly close the gap.

You’d figured it’s enough with the teasing and shift yourself to let your cock free, Satoru is still so impressed just by the size of you, you’re thick, when he had first heard so he expected you to be not so long but he was proven fairly wrong, you were just as long. That night you’d taken his virginity was painful and pleasurable.

You waste no time to filt your cock inside of him, it still hurts even with the two orgasms and how wet he is, you kiss him again to throw his mind somewhere else.

he’s quivering by the end of it, when your whole cock is nestled inside of him just right. You begin fucking up into him, fat cock pistoling into his sensitive hole.

“Feels so.. so good..” “hgnn-“ satoru babbles out. Tears decorate his waterline as you bounce him up and down your cock, you’re damn near abusing his pussy, using him as you would a flesh light, his cum from before is creating a thick ring around where you both meet.

His whole body quakes, you begin rubbing his clit just as roughly as you’re fucking him, as well as moving your fingers at the same pace, he tries to close his legs around the pleasure but you smack his clit again, a throaty whine is presented.

“I’m- im gonna..” “fu..fuck” his breathing speeds up and he’s trying to tell you he’s gonna cum, that he feels weird, everything feels so fucking weird. His legs twitch and he’s squirting, squirting all over your documents, papers, reports, all over your cock. His head is cloudy, he isn’t aware of what just happened, he can hear you scolding him: calling him nasty, a whore, gross all the names in the book, but you know that, that turned you on further, you stand up lifting him up as well.

You forcefully bend him on the desk he had just ruined, no mercy is given when you grab his hips and bounce him on your cock again. He’s just uselessly mewling, from this angle you stare at his swollen red pussy, you seem he needs to squirt one more time before you’re both satisfied.

#zsworks #gojo x reader #afab gojo x male reader #gojo x male reader #afab gojo #gojo smut #Afab gojo smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader

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sunny44 · 9 months ago

Text

Never the first choice

Pairing: Lando Norris x bf!reader

Warnings: angst, crying, fighting

Summary: Y/n is never Lando’s first choice.

I sat at the restaurant table, trying to focus on the conversation. The guy in front of me was kind, funny, and interesting—everything someone could want on a date. But my mind was elsewhere. Every time he smiled, I imagined someone else's smile. When he spoke, it was as if I was waiting for someone else's voice to fill the silence.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing my distraction.

I forced a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, I'm just a little tired."

He nodded, accepting my excuse without question. But the truth was much more complicated. Lando was always somewhere in the back of my mind, whether he was at a McLaren practice, at a Grand Prix, or even when I was on dates like this. I hated myself for it. I hated myself for not being able to move on, for still being stuck on someone who didn’t have the courage to choose me.

I was about to ask for the check, determined to end the date before my heart got even more tangled, when I saw him. Lando walked into the restaurant, his eyes immediately finding mine, as if he had some kind of radar that always guided him to me.

"Y/n?" my date called my attention, realizing that I was staring at something—or someone—behind him.

"Sorry, I just need a minute," I murmured, already standing up. I didn’t know what he was doing here, but I knew nothing good could come of it.

I walked over to Lando, meeting him near the entrance, with an expression I knew all too well—determination mixed with possessiveness.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, trying to stay calm.

"I... I needed to talk to you," he replied, his voice tense.

"Now? In the middle of my date?" I could already feel my patience running thin. Lando always showed up at the most inconvenient times, as if he knew exactly when I was about to move on.

"Yes, now," he insisted, stepping closer to me. "This guy isn’t right for you."

That was the last straw. "You cannot be serious. You crash my date to tell me this guy isn’t right for me? And who are you to decide that, Lando?"

Before he could respond, my date approached, a look of confusion on his face. "Is everything okay here?"

I wanted to scream, to apologize to him, but all I could do was shake my head.

"I... I’m leaving." Lando stepped closer to me, but I raised my hand, signaling him to stop. "No. Don’t touch me."

The other guy—who didn’t matter much to me anymore, since my heart was focused on Lando—shook his head in resignation. "I guess I’ll leave you two to talk."

I watched him walk away, a mix of anger and disappointment washing over me. Lando just stood there, and I didn’t know if I wanted to hug him or push him away. In the end, I chose the latter.

"You’re unbelievable," I began, my voice trembling with anger. "If you really wanted to be with me, you wouldn’t have gone on a date two weeks ago. Remember that date, Lando? The one you thought I didn’t know about?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t willing to listen.

"So you have no right to ruin my date, just because you’re not man enough to ask me out."

I could see the surprise in his eyes, as if he didn’t expect me to know. But the truth is, ever since I met Lando, I’ve always known when he was getting close to other people. He was unpredictable, and that was one of his charms—and one of his biggest flaws.

"Y/n, it’s not like that..." he started, but I raised my hands, refusing to hear.

"No, Lando, it’s exactly like that. It always has been. And it always will be, right? I’m only your first choice when no one better comes along." I felt the tears start to fall, but I continued, the pain turning into an unexpected strength. "I won’t be your second choice, Lando. I won’t be the person you always turn to when you need to get your dick wet.”

He tried to grab my arm, but I pulled away.

"Don’t touch me. That’s enough, im not gonna deal with this forever."

I turned, grabbed my bag, and walked away from him. The sound of my heels echoed in the restaurant, and the feeling of relief mixed with a deep sadness. The sound of laughter and conversations around us seemed so distant, as if I was in a completely different universe, where all that mattered was the pain in my chest.

When I reached the door, I stopped for a second, hoping he would come after me, say something that would change everything. But all I heard was silence.

I stepped out into the street, the cool night air hitting my face. Finally, the tears I had been holding back fell, and I allowed myself to cry. Cry for me, cry for Lando, cry for the love I never managed to have.

But as the tears fell, a firm decision began to form within me. I was tired of waiting, tired of being the second choice. Lando might not know what he wanted, but I did. I knew I deserved more, deserved someone who would choose me without hesitation, without doubts.

And above all, I knew that no matter how much I loved him, it wasn’t worth it if I always ended up feeling like this—alone, broken, and in second place. I deserved more. And in that moment, I decided I was going to find it, even if it meant leaving Lando behind.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“Getting used to be sad and alone all the time”

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crimsoncandy04 · 2 months ago

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It's ya girl. Back at it again with the smut no one asked for but I'm doing it anyways because the world needs my thoughts.

Anyways since we're not selfish lovers here and I already wrote about Wanderer and his variants eating your cunt and making you scream...

Here's how I think it would go if you said you wanted to suck their dicks in return.

Kabukimono (my baby I love him he's so sweet and he's not gonna survive)

He’s the most innocent of Wanderer's variants, so he’d blink in confusion at first, honestly not understanding what you mean and why that part of him seems so special to you.

He'd let you but would be hesitant and nervous.

"Okay. If you really want to."

Then he notices the way your lips curl into a sly little smirk. You kneel down and start trying to undress him. And then? Immediate panic.

Because now he realizes that you're serious and weren't just joking. (He's excited but also this is a first for him so the poor guy is just a mess. Be gentle with him)

His face erupts into red, and he nearly faints once he feels your lips around his cock.

He is NOISY too. Moaning wildly at just the slightest touch and maybe even tearing up and crying a bit when you take more of him in your mouth and start to move a little faster.

Don't tease him. You might make him malfunction somehow. (Kabukimono.exe has stopped working)

Wanderer (he likes playing hard to get so you'll have to beg a little for it)

He’s not letting you off easy. His gaze flicks up from his clothes dick, and his smirk is dangerous. He slowly, deliberately reaches a hand down into the confines of his shorts and strokes the length of his manhood, watching your reaction the entire time.

“Oh?” he muses, voice dripping with mock innocence.

“That’s funny, because you look like you want something else instead.”

(He's actually very excited at the idea but he's not really as vulnerable as he used to be so he's going to try and distract you rather than just admitting he's kinda nervous. You'll have to be sweet but adamant)

He'd tease you and maybe try to drag things out but once he's balls deep in your mouth? He'd start to lose it. He'd groan softly and maybe whimper a little but at some point he goes completely feral and grabs your head before starting to thrust into your throat and fucking your mouth.

(He's still careful not to hurt you though. And if you make any sign of discomfort or sound like you're distressed he'd stop immediately.)

Scaramouche (Bro is hella quiet. And he's not moaning for you in a million years. It sucks but his actions speak of his secret desperation and honestly maybe getting him off could calm him down a little?)

Do you want to die?

Because you’re dead. Absolutely dead. He stops mid thought, narrowing his eyes at you with a look that’s equal parts suspicion and amusement.

Then, ever so casually, he leans in his lips brushing your ear.

“Say that again.” His voice is low, dangerous, daring you to repeat yourself. If you do? Oh, he’s making you regret it. He’d smirk, slow and taunting, before undressing himself and exposing his hardened cock to you before forcing you onto your knees and ordering you to pleasure him.

If he sees you hesitate after his response he'd taunt you.

“Hah. Not so bold now, are you?”

And he's rough too. Grabbing your hair and forcing his entire dick deep into your throat as he makes you take it as far as it can go. He loves watching you suffer. If your eyes start tearing up or he hears you make any kind of noise, it'll just arouse him further. He wants to see you slobbering and sucking on his cock in the filthiest, most obscene way possible just to make you suffer for wanting him in such a vulnerable position.

You played with fire. And now you’re burning. But the flames have never felt so good.

#genshin impact #wanderer #smut #genshin wanderer #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #wanderer x female reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #genshin kabukimono #scaramouche x reader #scara #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #kabukimono x reader

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daenysx · 10 months ago

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omg ! for the sad girl sleepover i have a blurb!!! how ab james w a pregnant!reader whos just super emotional, crying at everything , being mad at him then crying bc she feels bad :( ik hed be so patient !!!

"what-" james panics at the sight of you crying. "why- what happened?" he asks.

you hold your phone with almost trembling fingers. "look at this video, jamie." sniffling. "she's washing a kitten, just look at its eyes. it looks so small, so sweet."

james lets out the breath he doesn't know how long he's been holding. your one hand stays on your swollen belly casually and you watch the kitten video again with sad eyes. you're actually crying for a cat.

"angel." he really should stop panicking. "i thought something bad happened to you."

your teary eyes get huge as you look up to him. "not to me. to this kitten. she says she found it on the street and it probably lost its mother. it's so sad, jamie."

james smiles uncontrollably. do you have any idea how sweet you look in his eyes right now? he sits next to you, his one hand on your belly as the other one dries up your cheeks. "maybe you should stop watching these videos. they make you upset."

"i feel so swollen today." you say, huffing. you put your phone aside. "i was trying to distract myself, and that kitten was-"

"sweetheart." he stops you with a kiss on the back of your hand. "the kitten is in good hands right now. please stop crying over it."

"what, you think i'm crying on purpose?" you pout. "i'm crying because our baby makes my hormones go crazy, i don't know if you notice but it's kinda your fault."

"it's my fault that we're having a baby?" he asks, smirking.

"i mean-" you start, licking your lips. "you've done your part of it, haven't you?"

james looks at you with a fond expression. "i'm sorry." he says, rubbing your cheek. "i'm sorry for making your hormones go crazy and that you're feeling so swollen today, baby. can i do something to help you?"

he's gonna be a perfect dad. you imagine him holding your little girl in his huge hands, her little face pressed against his broad chest. she'll be such a daddy's girl, no doubt. oh, no. your eyes well with tears again.

"no, what is it?" james asks. "angel."

"you're gonna be an amazing dad." you say, your fingers catching the tears from falling down. "i'm sorry for saying it's your fault."

james gives you a nice laugh. he pulls you in his arms to give you a hug as good as he can with your belly on the way. "you're carrying our baby. i'll always be here for you, no matter what you say."

"i'm sorry." you say to his shoulder. "i promise i won't watch any more kitten videos."

"okay." he smiles. "that's nice. i'm gonna get you something to eat, why don't you pick a movie for us?"

"i'm gonna find something funny."

"good, baby." he stands up, kisses your belly once, and leaves for the kitchen.

sad girl sleepover ♡

#sad girl sleepover #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james x reader #james x you #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders fic

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delugyu · 3 months ago

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bg’s soundcheck outfit today drives me insane too… I have so many thoughts and none of them are holy 😣 I won’t say it out loud but my visions are vivid… innocent reader and possessive professor gyu, who cannot keep his eyes off of you. He won’t admit that he’s a pervert, but he can’t help it when you bend down to grab something and your panties caught his eyes. Maybe he can give you an extra lecture which ends up with him rubbing his dick on your pssy and you have no clue what’s going on but it just feels so good… Okay now I’m going to jail bonk!

FAWKKKK this is ruining me 😵‍💫 prof!gyu who wants to be professional and normal, but as soon as he gets home from work he’s fisting his cock thinking abt u.. he thinks about keeping u after class and bending you over one of the desks, flipping up ur skirt and spanking you until your legs are shaking.. it’s only fair that he should get to punish you; if you’re gonna keep coming to class so sinfully beautiful, he should show u what happens to pretty little girls who tempt their professors <3 he’ll stop once your whines get too pitiful, he’d soothe your skin with gentle hands, cooing at you and telling you how this is what had to happen, this is what you deserved. he imagines the way you’d jump when he presses a finger against your cunt through your panties, how wet you’d be just from a few spanks.

he feels his face flush every time you make eye contact with him. it’s bad enough trying to deal with his lust for you in a classroom with 70 students, but when you start coming to his office hours one-on-one, acting normal around you becomes impossible. you don’t even know how much you’re affecting him—you’re just sitting there with the prettiest smile on your face, listening to him try to sputter out the answers to your questions. you nod and bat your eyelashes as he speaks, and he can’t help but get distracted by your sweetness. you’re always so well-mannered, he knows you’d be the most obedient little thing for him. he’s immensely grateful for the desk that separates the two of you, otherwise he’d have to worry about you catching sight of the tent in his pants.

fuck, he’s awful. he should be fired. the moment you walk out of his office, he throws his head back and groans, contemplating just cancelling the rest of his hours for the day so he can go home already and jack off to the thought of you. he can picture you on your knees right now, sucking him off from under his desk while he sings praises to you. so good for me, aren’t you? i should just keep you forever, make your sweet cunt all mine. he’d brush your hair back and make sure you’re looking him in the eye as you suck his cock.

he holds his head in his hands. he’s screwed.

on his bad days, he thinks about treating you rough. you’d let him take out his anger on you, wouldn’t you? be his toy, let him use you until he’s all better. he’d hold your body right against his, your back to his chest, his hand on your throat, fucking into you mercilessly as he pants into your ear. you’d take it all so well. he knows he’s big, but your pussy was made for him, so he’d make all of it fit and fuck you until you start shaking in his arms. you would look so pretty when you’re trembling and weak. you’d whimper something pathetic, some sort of plea for mercy, and he’d have to kiss your sweet lips and tell you no. he can’t help it, you’d look so beautiful cumming for him, he’d have to get you off again and again. he’d watch his seed spill out of your spent cunt, watch your hole flutter as his cum drips out. you’re so pretty and delicious, he might even have to dive down and clean you up.

he has an especially bad day when he finds out you have a boyfriend. a boyfriend? are you fucking kidding? the minute you uttered that word to him, he wanted to push you up against the wall and yank your panties down. he wanted to pull your hair and fuck you hard. he wanted to be ruthless and mean, and he wanted to hurt you. he would make you cry and beg for forgiveness. he would make you promise to leave that stupid guy, to never talk to him again. beomgyu’s a real man, someone you could actually turn to and rely on. he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, suck your neck until he leaves marks. he’d push you around, make you go delirious and stupid, fuck you until you’re pliant and agreeable. dumb baby, he hopes you learn from this.

but of course, beomgyu doesn’t do any of that. he can’t. he has a job to do and morals to keep up. that doesn’t stop him from giving you some honest advice, though. “have you considered, maybe your boyfriend’s the reason you’re struggling in class?”

#txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt hard hours #beomgyu hard hours #txt smut #beomgyu smut #i could literally write a whole fic on this im obsessed #delugyu drabbles

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justarkive · 2 months ago

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TABLE 3 | JJK ch24

*.°* pairing : pre!military jk x waitress/ secret fuckbuddy reader

"For good service, and cute waitresses."

warnings: smut, alc consumption, fluff, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idolljungkook, mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity, fluff at the start!! they kiss eachother w lipstick and take pics. but turns sad real quick lol

smut warnings: unprotected sex, they both cry during it, “please dont leave me”, he tries dirty talking mid way and realises thats not what u need, no prep lol, riding, sideways fucking, missionary, aftercare, kissing, its sad but still filthy, oral f receiving, forced eye contact.

wc: longggg

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

*.°* taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii @lovingkoalaface @bigsteppagangsterizzie @hangescn @angie-x3

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The diner is buzzing today, but you barely hear it.

The hum of conversation, the clatter of plates, the distant sizzle of something frying in the kitchen—it’s all just background noise to the thoughts spinning in your head.

Jungkook rushed out of Nari’s apartment hours ago, muttering something about a last-minute meeting, and you haven’t heard from him since. Not that it’s weird—he’s insanely busy these days, and you’re trying really hard not to let that little fact ruin your mood.

But there’s only three days left.

Three.

When Jungkook told you he had a week left, you didn’t think he meant he was leaving on Friday.

Friday.

And it’s already Tuesday.

And it’s like time is slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold onto it.

You push through your shift, doing your best to keep up with Nari’s usual antics—she’s thriving off your distracted state, making fun of you for staring into space one too many times—but it’s all so much.

Before you know it, the shift is over.

Nari drops you home, pulling up outside your apartment with a tired sigh. “You okay?” she asks, even though she knows the answer.

You nod. “Yeah.”

She squints at you. “Liar.”

You sniff, and she groans, already regretting asking. “Go call your stupid boyfriend.” She teases.

“He’s not my—”

“Shut up, yes, he is.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her playfully before stepping out of the car. And the second you’re inside, you call Jungkook.

It only rings twice before he picks up. “Hey, baby.”

The sound of his voice makes your heart ache. “I miss you.”

A pause. Then a quiet sigh. “I know. I miss you, too.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying so hard to keep your voice steady. “I can’t believe it’s so soon.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be sorry,” you say quickly. “It’s just… I don’t know. Are you free right now?”

There’s a pause. “Right now?”

“Yeah, now.”

“Shit, baby, I wish—” He sighs again. “I have to be up early tomorrow. I’m seeing my family all day, so I don’t think—”

“You’re not gonna see me tomorrow?”

Jungkook hesitates. “I can drop by in the morning—”

And then— You wail.

Like, full-on dramatic sobbing.

“Noooooo,” you cry, clutching your pillow for emotional support. “Please, don’t gooo, please, Jungkook, I can’t do this—”

“What the fuck—” Jungkook panics. “Baby, stop—”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna diiiieeee,” you wail louder, rolling onto your back. “I can’t live without you for one night, pleaseee—”

“Oh, my fucking—”

“Jungkooooooook—”

“Fine!” he finally yells, defeated. “ Fine, fine, I’ll come, but only for a few hours, stop crying baby I-!”

You immediately stop sniffling. “Really?”

Jungkook squints at his phone. Suspicious.

“Yes, really, but I swear to god, if I show up and you’re asleep, I’ll kill you.”

You beam, wiping your totally fake tears. “Okay, hurry up.”

But then—guilt.

“Oh my god, wait, you don’t have to,” you say quickly. “I’m sorry, you’re probably exhausted, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s fine,” Jungkook interrupts. “Really. I wanna see you anyway. But seriously. Only a few hours, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

You don’t.

But he doesn’t have to know that.

Just like you predicted, when Jungkook finally shows up, he looks exhausted.

His eyes are heavy, his shoulders slouched, and the second he steps inside, he lets out a long breath like he’s been waiting all day to finally be here.

And suddenly, you feel so guilty. “I’m sorry,” you say immediately, suddenly feeling small as you stand there in your hoodie. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, stop,” Jungkook interrupts, shaking his head as he pulls you in. His arms wrap tight around you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. “I love you, okay? We don’t have much time left, so I’m making the most of it.”

You soften. “Okay.”

“Let’s forget about it for now,” he murmurs against your skin before pulling back. “I’m only staying till twelve, so, three hours.”

You pout, already feeling the time slipping away. “That’s not enough.”

Jungkook sighs, brushing his fingers down your cheek. “I’ll stop by in the morning if you really want me to.”

Your eyes widen. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

You hold out your pinky, and Jungkook huffs a laugh before linking his with yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your hand for good measure.

And with that, you both settle into your bedroom, climbing onto your bed like it’s just another normal night. You talk about everything and nothing at the same time, just enjoying each other’s presence, fingers tangled together on the sheets.

At some point, you get curious. “So, what do you think you’ll get up to in the military?”

Jungkook hums, shifting onto his side to look at you. “I don’t know. I’m definitely not excited, but I guess it’ll be nice to have a break.”

You nod, listening intently as he sighs. “Unfortunately, I can’t be in one of the fancier units, though.”

“Why?”

“Visible tattoos,” he shrugs. “You can’t enlist in certain sectors if you have them. I’ll probably end up in something boring.”

Your brows furrow. “Wait—does that mean you’ll still be working out?”

Jungkook gives you a look. “Why do you sound excited?”

You sit up slightly. “Does this mean you’ll get bigger?”

He squints. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know—do you want me to?”

Your entire face lights up. “Yes, oh my god, yes—” You bounce on the bed, grinning. “Please!”

Jungkook laughs, grabbing your wrists to stop you from shaking the bed. “I’m already big!”

“But imagine— bigger!”

Jungkook groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Why do I feel like you’re gonna make me send you muscle updates when I’m there?”

“Oh, I am,” you confirm, grinning. “Get ready for me to demand flexing videos every week.”

He rolls over, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down until you’re nose to nose. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters.

You grin.

A few minutes later, you’re perched on Jungkook’s lap, lips fused to his, hands in his hair, completely lost in him. It’s like you can’t help it��like there’s this unspoken rule now that you have to touch him, kiss him, hold onto him as much as possible while you still can.

Jungkook clearly has the same thought, because the second you try pulling back, he’s tugging you right back in, hands firm on your hips.

But you just giggle, pushing at his chest. “No, wait. I have an idea.”

Jungkook groans dramatically, head falling back against the headboard. “Baby, c’mon—”

You ignore him, scrambling for your nightstand until your fingers close around a tube of lipstick.

Jungkook eyes you warily. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, you pop the cap off and swipe the color across your lips. Then, before he can react, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. Then another. And another.

“Y/N—!” He squirms, laughing as you attack his face, leaving imprints of your lips across his skin. “Stop, that tickles!”

“No,” you say simply, completely unbothered. “You’re cute.”

“Stop calling me cute.”

“You are cute.”

Jungkook groans in defeat, letting you assault his face with kisses while his hands absentmindedly squeeze at your waist.

You grab your Polaroid camera and snap a picture before he can react.

“Hey—!”

Too late. You’re already shaking it, grinning down at the image of his completely kiss-covered face. “Oh, this is going on the wall.”

Jungkook watches as you add it right next to the first-ever picture you took of him—the one where he was buried under your plushies.

The little collection is growing.

You turn back to him. “Okay, take your shirt off.”

Jungkook perks up. “Oh?” He doesn’t hesitate, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion.

You beam. “Good.” Then, you lean down and repeat the process—pressing kisses along his collarbones, his chest, each of his abs—until he’s laughing, trying to twist away from the ticklish sensation.

“Baby—stop, I can’t—”

“Nope.” You snap another picture of him, now covered in even more lipstick stains. “I win.”

Jungkook watches as you struggle to find more space on the wall, eventually just sticking them in random spots. One even goes into your phone case.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“You love it.”

He hums, and then, suddenly, “My turn.”

You blink. “What? No—”

Too late. He grabs the lipstick from your hand, rolling you onto your back in one swift motion. “Stay still,” he murmurs, straddling your waist.

“Jungkook—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, uncapping the lipstick. His touch is slow, careful as he smears the color across his lips. His fingers linger against your jaw, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you in.

You’re blushing, gripping at his arm for support.

Compared to how frantic you were before, Jungkook is slow.

Painfully, teasingly slow.

And when he finally leans down, he starts his attack—pressing deliberate kisses all over your cheeks, your jaw, your collarbone, your neck—taking his sweet time.

You squirm, flustered, but he just smirks. “What? You don’t like it when it’s you?”

You grab a pillow and whack him with it.

Jungkook cackles, reaching for your camera. “How do I use this thing?”

You scoff. “Oh, so you’re not a camera expert anymore?”

“I don’t know how to use your kiddie camera.”

You gasp, offended. “It’s not a kiddie camera! It’s a Polaroid, for your information.”

Jungkook grins. “I know how to use it—I just wanted you to teach me.”

You roll your eyes, guiding his hands over the camera. “Like this.”

Jungkook snaps a bunch of pictures of you, grinning at the results. But instead of giving them to you, he tucks a few into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m keeping them.”

You pause, realizing. “Will you look at them when you’re gone?”

He shrugs, smiling softly. “Maybe.”

The mood shifts. You’re both curled up in bed now, Jungkook holding you close, rubbing small circles on your back. You feel him shift, checking the time.

“Babe, I have to leave soon.”

You tense. “I know.”

And then it hits you again.

An hour left until he has to go.

Three days left until he’s gone for real.

Jungkook knows you’re thinking about it—he sees it in your face. So he tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I promise I’ll come by tomorrow.”

You nod. “I know.”

“I’ll text you. I’ll update you about everything.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur. “I know you’ll miss your family, too.”

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah. I will.”

And then you realize—it’s not just you he’s leaving.

It’s his family. His members. His fans.

It’s everyone.

And suddenly, you feel selfish.

Jungkook notices the shift in you immediately, his hand finding your cheek. “Hey. You’re okay. I promise.”

You don’t answer. But you do let yourself relax into him, nuzzling into his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe you. Eventually, you drift off—still covered in his kisses.

Jungkook waits until you’re fully asleep before gently rummaging through your nightstand, looking for wipes. He knows what it’s like to fall asleep with makeup on—it always makes him feel gross in the morning—so he carefully cleans the lipstick off your skin, making sure to be gentle as you unconsciously nuzzle into his touch.

When he’s done, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another. And another.

He doesn’t want to leave.

Not now. Not in three days.

He debates staying, but then you stir, your brows furrowing slightly, and he knows he can’t.

So instead, he whispers, “I love you so much.”

And even in your sleep, you mewl at the sound of it, your body immediately relaxing, like it’s enough for now.

Jungkook stands there for a moment, just watching you, before finally slipping out of bed.

He takes in the sight of your room—the little details, the chaos, the way it perfectly reflects you—and he finds himself smiling.

His eyes land on your Polaroid wall, at all the little moments captured there.

He debates taking down one of the pictures you took of him earlier, thinking he doesn’t look great in it, but in the end, he leaves it. And just before he leaves, he snaps one last picture of you—fast asleep, peaceful, his favorite sight in the world.

——

Jungkook drives home in silence.

The whole way there, his heart feels full—so much so that it’s almost enough to distract him from what’s coming. Almost.

But then, the second he steps into his apartment, the feeling changes. He goes through the motions—taking off his shoes, tossing his bag onto the couch, getting ready for bed—but it all feels too normal. Like it’s just another night. Like tomorrow won’t be another countdown to leaving.

And the second he touches his bed, it hits him all at once. The sob breaks out of him before he can even stop it. He curls in on himself, gripping his sheets, his chest aching in a way he can’t even describe.

He doesn’t want to go.

And before he can even think about it, his fingers are already dialing your number.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times. No answer.

You’re asleep.

He knows he shouldn’t wake you up, so he stops himself from calling again—but the loneliness is too much, the silence in his apartment is too loud, and before he knows it, he’s calling again.

But not you this time.

Namjoon answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

Jungkook chokes on a sob. “Hyung—”

“Jungkook? What’s wrong?”

And then it all comes out.

“I don’t want to go,” Jungkook cries, his chest heaving as he grips the phone like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His voice is raw, cracking under the weight of everything. “I don’t—I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave her—”

Namjoon sighs on the other end, the kind of sigh that carries years of understanding. The kind that says, I know this hurts.

“I know,” he says softly.

“I can’t do it,” Jungkook gasps, shaking his head even though Namjoon can’t see him. “I can’t—I can’t wake up tomorrow and pretend everything’s fine. It’s not fine. I just—” His voice breaks, and the silence that follows is filled with his quiet, shaking breaths.

“You have to,” Namjoon says after a beat, gentle but firm. “You knew this day would come. It’s not forever, Jungkook.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. “It feels like forever.”

Namjoon hums, thoughtful. “She took you back, right?”

Jungkook nods through his tears, even though Namjoon isn’t there to see it. “Yeah.”

“Then she’ll wait for you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens. He wants to believe that—he really does. But the fear is suffocating.

“What if she doesn’t?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “What if she moves on? What if—” His voice cracks again, and he bites his lip hard to keep it together. “I love her. I told her, properly this time. At the beach. And she—she looked at me like I was her whole world.”

Namjoon is quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “Then trust her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook sniffles. “But what if—”

Namjoon cuts him off, echoing his words from when he’d given him advice a long time ago, “Then that’s a risk you have to take.”

Jungkook hates that answer. Because it’s not the reassurance he wants. It’s not a guarantee. But he knows Namjoon is right.

His fingers loosen around his phone, exhausted, defeated. “I watched her fall asleep earlier,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “She was just… there. So warm. So peaceful. Like she knew she was safe with me.”

Namjoon hums again, quieter this time. “And you’ll have that again. Maybe not soon. Maybe not next month. But you will.”

Jungkook swallows down another sob. “I don’t want to do this without her.”

“You’re not doing this without her,” Namjoon corrects him. “She’s still with you. And if she’s the one, she’ll still be there when you come back.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply. He just breathes, listening to Namjoon’s steady presence on the other end. It’s quiet, the only sound their breathing, and somehow, that makes it easier.

Eventually, exhaustion wins.

Jungkook drifts off, his phone still in his hand, with Namjoon still on the line

——

When Jungkook wakes up, it’s to his alarm blaring at 5 AM.

His head is heavy, his throat is dry from crying, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it—he has to meet his family soon.

Without thinking, he reaches for his phone. His fingers type out a message before he can overthink it.

Jungkook [5:07 AM]: hi baby, im coming in like an hour. do you want anything?

No response. You’re probably still asleep.

He sighs, pushing himself out of bed, rubbing at his tired eyes. Then, he hops in the shower, letting the water wash away everything from the night before. There’s still some remnants on lipstick on his chest and his abdomen and he scrubs away even if it physically hurts him to.

When he steps out, he doesn’t check his phone right away. Because if you haven’t responded yet, he’s not sure if he can handle that feeling right now. Jungkook gets in his car, barely even processing the motion of turning the keys in the ignition. His mind is elsewhere.

Two days.

Two days is nothing.

Today and tomorrow.

He exhales sharply through his nose, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight as he pulls out onto the road. He knows today is supposed to be for his family. He’s not mad about it—he misses them, and he wants to see them before he goes.

But at the same time…

He’d rather be with you.

He shakes the thought away, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he focuses on driving. Not like it matters. He still has this morning, at least.

His stomach grumbles, but instead of stopping somewhere for himself, he takes a sharp turn, heading towards a tiny, shitty food truck that he knows has just opened for the morning. The kind of place that only locals know about, nothing fancy, nothing overhyped—just good, simple food.

You’d love it.

So he pulls up without hesitation, quickly placing an order for pancakes and waiting impatiently, checking the time on his phone every other second.

5:30 AM.

He still has time. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to be. His fingers tap against his thigh as he debates his next move.

The field.

His chest clenches at the thought.

Fuck it. By the time he gets his order, he’s already made up his mind. The drive to the field is second nature at this point, muscle memory guiding him as he turns onto the small, secluded road leading there.

When he finally parks, he steps out, stretching his arms with a sigh as the cool morning air washes over him. The sun isn’t fully up yet, but there’s a soft golden glow in the distance, and for a moment, Jungkook just stands there, taking it in.

He wonders if you’re awake yet.

He wonders if you’d be mad if you knew he was here without you.

But he doesn’t dwell on it for long—he steps forward, wandering into the field, eyes scanning for the small patches of daisies that always seem to grow in the same spots.

It takes a few minutes, but he finds them, crouching down and picking a few with careful hands, letting the scent of the fresh petals fill his nose.

And then, without wasting another second, he’s back in his car, pancakes in one hand, flowers in the other, driving straight to your apartment.

Jungkook knocks, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he glances down at the bag of pancakes in his hand and the small bunch of daisies in the other.

It’s almost six now.

It takes a bit longer than usual for you to answer, and he figures you’re probably still asleep. He doesn’t mind waiting.

And then, finally—

The door creaks open, and—

Oh.

His heart clenches so hard it almost fucking hurts.

You’re standing there, still groggy with sleep, wearing a t-shirt that barely covers the tops of your thighs, your hair messy from sleep, one eye squinted shut as you rub at it lazily. You let out a soft yawn, blinking at him like you’re still processing the fact that he’s even here.

And then—

Your eyes widen, fully waking up as you beam at him, and before he can even get a word out, you reach forward, tugging him inside by the sleeve of his hoodie and wrapping your arms around him.

Jungkook barely has time to react before he’s melting into you, inhaling the faint traces of your shampoo as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re so warm.

And it sucks.

It fucking sucks that he only has two days left with you.

But for now—for you, and for himself—he pretends that he’s not leaving at all.

Jungkook expects you to pull him into the kitchen like always, maybe tease him for being up so early, maybe sit across from him at the counter as you both eat.

Instead—

You take the bag from his hands, peeking inside curiously. “What’s this?”

He raises a brow. “Pancakes. And flowers. Duh.”

You smile, stepping closer to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, baby.”

His heart stutters.

But before he can say anything, you drop the bag on the counter and—

Take his hand.

And pull him toward your bedroom.

Jungkook blinks. Wait.

He’s confused for a second, expecting you to sit him down or do something—but you just stand there, looking a little sheepish, rubbing at your arm before mumbling—

“Can you just… hold me?”

His chest tightens.

For a second, all he can do is stare. And then, he tugs you in gently, leading you back to the bed without another word. You follow without hesitation, crawling under the sheets as he settles in beside you.

You snuggle into his side immediately, arms wrapped around his waist, face tucked into his chest, your breath warm against his skin. Jungkook exhales deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his arms winding securely around you.

Two days.

He pretends it’s forever.

The room is quiet.

Neither of you really sleep. You just lay there, wrapped up in each other, lost in silence. Jungkook keeps his eyes on the ceiling, willing himself not to cry. He counts his breaths, focuses on the steady rhythm of your fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against his ribs. Every touch feels like a memory being burned into his skin.

He swallows.

Two days. And then, he feels it.

The slight tremble of your body against his. The way your breath starts to hitch. Jungkook’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head to look at you.

And that’s when he sees—

The tears slipping down your cheeks, soaking into his shirt.

His stomach drops.

“Baby…,” he whispers, heart clenching as he cups your cheek, trying to tilt your face toward his. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer. You just break.

“Please don’t go,” you sob, gripping his shirt in your fists like it’s the only thing keeping you together. “Jungkook, please, don’t—please—”

His chest caves in.

“Baby,” he whispers, his own voice shaking now, his throat burning as he tries to hold it together.

But he can’t. Not when you’re begging like this.

Not when he has no choice but to leave.

He tightens his grip around you, presses his face into your hair, kisses your temple between ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Because what else is there to say?

You keep crying.

Jungkook just holds you tighter, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, neither of you will have to let go.

Jungkook exhales shakily, his forehead pressed against yours, his own tears mixing with yours. Your breath is uneven, your body trembling against his, and he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to make this better.

So he kisses you.

Soft, at first. A silent plea, a desperate apology. His lips catch your cries, drinking them in like they’re the last thing he’ll ever have of you. He feels the way your hands fist into his shirt tighter, pulling him closer like you want to crawl into him, like you never want there to be space between you again.

And then you kiss him back.

It’s messy, wet from tears, but you don’t care. Your lips move against his with urgency, with something bordering on desperation, and Jungkook groans softly when you press closer, shifting in his lap, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you.

You break away for a moment, but he doesn’t let you go far. He chases after you, lips brushing yours as he breathes out, “Y/N—”

And then you’re kissing him again.

Harder, needier.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepens the kiss, one hand slipping under your shirt to press against the warm skin of your waist. His thumb traces over your hip bone, slow, teasing, grounding himself in the feel of you.

Because this—

This is what he wants to remember.

The way you taste, the way you sound when he swallows down another whimper, the way you need him like he needs you.

And when you shift again, rolling your hips against his, your hands slipping beneath his hoodie—

Jungkook loses himself completely.

Your hands tremble as they push his hoodie up, fingertips trailing over the warmth of his skin. You’re not just touching him—you’re memorizing him, pressing your palms flat against his stomach like you can carve the shape of him into your skin, like you can hold onto him in a way time won’t steal from you.

Jungkook shudders beneath your touch, a sharp breath stuttering against your lips. “Baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked, pleading, but he doesn’t know what for. For you to slow down? To never stop? To let him drown in you until he forgets he ever has to leave?

He doesn’t know.

But then you’re kissing him again—slower this time, softer. Like you’re trying to soothe the ache neither of you can put into words. Your lips are swollen, warm, and Jungkook melts into you when your fingers slide into his hair, pulling, tugging, grounding him.

His hands roam too—sweeping over your back, gripping at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. He feels the way your body moves with his, how perfectly you fit against him, and it makes something inside him snap.

“Please,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “Jungkook, please.”

And he knows what you’re asking for.

His hands shake as he peels your shirt off, as he presses reverent kisses down your throat, over your collarbones, his lips mapping out every inch of skin he can reach. His name leaves your lips in a breathless sigh when he takes one of your breasts into his mouth, his tongue slow and worshipful, hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to hold himself together.

But it’s useless.

Because you’re moving against him, rolling your hips in time with the soft sucks of his mouth, and his resolve is crumbling.

You tilt his face up, guiding him back to your lips, and when your thighs tighten around him, he knows he’s lost.

Your fingers tremble as they trace the shape of his face, committing every dip and curve to memory. The slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the sharp cut of his jawline. You look at him like you’ll never get to again, and the thought alone makes fresh tears sting your eyes.

Jungkook notices. Of course he does.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice thick, strained. He lifts a hand to wipe at your tears, but before he can, you’re leaning in—pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He stills beneath you.

He’s always the one giving you forehead kisses, tucking you close, making you feel safe, adored. They’re your favorite—always have been. But now, it’s you pressing one to his skin, letting your lips linger against the warmth of him, as if you can pour all your love into this one kiss.

Jungkook exhales sharply. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, like he’s trying to hold back something thick and uncontainable. But you don’t let him—don’t let him retreat into that quiet sadness.

Instead, you kiss him again. And again.

Soft, lingering presses of your lips along his temples, down to the curve of his cheekbone. Then his nose. His jaw.

“I love you,” you whisper between each kiss, voice trembling but sure. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Jungkook shatters.

His hands tighten on your waist, like he wants to pull you in, fuse you to him, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. Just lets you continue, lets you map out every inch of his body with your mouth.

You kiss down his throat, feeling the way it vibrates as he exhales shakily, his pulse hammering against your lips. You don’t stop. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of his hoodie, peeling it away from his skin. The fabric lifts easily, exposing the smooth planes of his chest, and you waste no time pressing your mouth to the skin there, too.

His collarbones, his shoulders, the firm stretch of his arms—everywhere you can reach, you kiss. Slow, reverent. Worshipful.

By the time you’re tugging at his waistband, Jungkook is a mess beneath you—his chest rising and falling rapidly, his fingers digging into the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

And when you press a final, lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh, Jungkook exhales a shaky, wrecked, “Baby…”

Like he’s already breaking.

Like he doesn’t know how to survive this kind of love.

Jungkook’s hands tremble where they grip your waist, his breath ragged as you press kiss after kiss into his skin—his chest, his stomach, the sharp cut of his hip. You’re not thinking anymore, not planning. Just feeling. Memorizing.

Your fingers slide beneath his waistband, tugging. He lifts his hips instinctively, letting you strip away the last barrier between you, and you don’t waste a second. You straddle him, chest heaving, tears still streaking your cheeks as you take him in your hand, guiding him to where you need him most.

Jungkook stiffens. “Wait, baby, you need—”

You don’t let him finish.

You sink down in one motion, gasping as he fills you, as your body stretches to accommodate him, as he presses so deep it knocks the air from your lungs.

Jungkook’s head snaps back against the pillow. His mouth falls open, a choked groan breaking from his throat as his hands fly to your hips, gripping tight like he’s trying to ground himself, trying not to lose it completely.

“Fuck—” His voice is wrecked. “Baby, you—shit, you didn’t—”

You shake your head frantically, cutting him off, pressing a palm over his mouth as your whole body trembles. You don’t care. You don’t care. You just need him.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking, your nails digging into his chest. “Please don’t go.”

Jungkook’s entire body tenses beneath you.

Your hand falls from his mouth, sliding up to cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones as you lean in. Your lips ghost over his, but you don’t kiss him. Just breathe him in, feel the warmth of his skin, the way he’s shaking from the effort of holding himself together.

“What am I gonna do without you?” Your voice cracks. A fresh wave of tears spills over, dripping onto his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be without you, Jungkook.”

His jaw clenches, his brows furrowing in raw agony. He shakes his head, like he wants to say something, like he wants to comfort you, but he can’t. Because he doesn’t know how.

Because he doesn’t know how to be without you either.

And then you move.

You roll your hips, slow, deep, and Jungkook breaks.

A strangled groan rips from his throat, his hands flying to your ass, gripping hard, as if he can somehow press you closer, somehow keep you here. His head tilts back, exposing his throat, and you kiss him there, feeling the way he swallows thickly beneath your lips.

You lift yourself up and sink down again, choking on a sob as he fills you, as he stretches you so perfectly it hurts. But it’s good. It’s right. Like he belongs here.

Like he belongs with you.

Jungkook pants beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin, but he doesn’t rush you. Just lets you take what you need, lets you set the pace, lets you use him the way he wants to use you.

For comfort. For love. For something to hold onto when everything else is slipping away.

And when you look down at him, when your eyes meet his—

Jungkook looks ruined.

His bottom lip trembles, his dark eyes glassy, pleading, like he’s trying so fucking hard not to cry, trying so fucking hard to be strong.

And you can’t take it.

You bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing against his skin, whispering please, please, please between every ragged breath.

Jungkook presses a hand to the back of your head, cradling you close, his lips finding your temple.

“I love you,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I love you, I love you—”

And then his hands are gripping tighter, his hips rising to meet yours, and you know he’s losing himself, giving himself to you the same way you’re giving yourself to him.

Because there’s no tomorrow.

Not yet.

Right now, there’s only this.

You don’t know how you find the strength to do it.

To lift your head. To force your hands to loosen from their desperate clutch on his body. To just look at him.

Jungkook is barely holding himself together. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his lashes damp, his lips swollen and parted like he’s trying to catch the words before they escape him. But you see it in his eyes.

He’s breaking.

And you don’t have time for that.

You don’t have time for any of it.

So you do the only thing you can.

You push through it. You suck it up.

You exhale shakily, press your forehead to his, and whisper, “Jungkook.”

His eyes flutter shut for half a second, like he’s trying to memorize the way you say his name, the way your breath warms his lips, the way your voice trembles but still holds him.

And then you move.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart, your fingers slipping into his hair as you rock your hips against him, slow, deep, dragging him into you over and over and over again.

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands skimming up your back, gripping tight, his nails digging in just enough to ground himself.

And then he’s breathing it back.

“I love you.”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, pressing your lips to his jaw, his cheek, his temple.

“I love you, I love you so much—”

He gasps, his grip tightening, his head tilting back just slightly, enough for you to kiss down his throat, to feel the way he swallows against your lips, to hear the way his breath hitches.

“Please don’t go.”

Jungkook chokes on a sound that’s not quite a sob, not quite a moan, something raw and shattered and so fucking helpless.

And then his arms lock around you, crushing you against him, as he buries his face in your shoulder, his voice breaking completely.

“I don’t wanna go.”

Your entire body tenses. Your breath stutters in your throat.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go—”

It’s the first time he’s said it. The first time he’s let it slip, the first time he’s let himself admit it—that he doesn’t want to leave you. That it’s killing him. That if he had a choice, if the world would just fucking let him—

He would stay.

Your nails sink into his skin, your hips grinding down harder, desperate, frantic, like you can somehow make him stay, like you can fuse yourself to him, like you can press him so deep inside you that he’ll never leave.

“Then stay,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s breath shudders against your skin, his fingers curling into your flesh like he wants to.

Like he wants to so fucking bad.

He doesn’t know what to do with this, with you, with the weight of everything pressing into his chest like a vice. He’s gripping onto you like you’ll slip through his fingers the second he lets go, like he’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll be nothing but a dream.

“Then stay.”

Your words echo in his skull, looping, endless, clawing at something deep inside him.

He can’t.

He wants to. But he can’t.

And so—he panics.

“Gonna miss this pussy so much,” he mutters, his voice strained, desperate, trying to ground himself in something, anything, trying to fill the unbearable silence that follows his own fucking admission. His hands skim down your back, gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“Miss feeling you wrapped around me like this—”

You inhale sharply, body tensing, and—fuck.

No.

No, that’s not what you need.

Jungkook realizes it the second the words leave his mouth. The second he hears himself, hears how it sounds—like he’s trying to distract himself, like he’s trying to make this just about fucking when it’s so much more.

He hears the way your breath shakes, how your grip loosens ever so slightly, how you start to pull away—

And he panics again.

“Shit—baby—”

His body moves before his mind catches up.

He flips you over in one swift motion, pressing you into the mattress, his breath ragged, his heart pounding, something frantic and terrified behind his eyes as he cages you beneath him.

Your wide, tear-filled gaze meets his, your lip trembling, and Jungkook’s entire body locks up.

Fuck.

He nearly loses it right then and there. Nearly breaks. But instead—he just moves.

He doesn’t know how to make this better. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made.

So he just— Kisses you.

Soft.

Deep.

He pours everything into it, every unspoken word, every apology, every ounce of guilt, every single part of him that belongs to you.

His hands trace up your sides, slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

Like he’s trying to hold on just a little longer.

Jungkook collapses against you.

All of his weight, all of his warmth, all of him—pressing you into the mattress, crushing you, suffocating you, swallowing you whole.

And you let him.

Because if he’s on you, if he’s in you, if he’s covering every inch of your body with his, then maybe—just maybe—you won’t have to face the sight of him leaving.

“Fuck—”

His breath stutters against your neck, his voice wrecked, helpless, and the only thing keeping him from fully melting into you is the slow, deep drag of his hips, the way he’s sinking into you like he never wants to leave.

Like he never wants to stop.

“Jungkook—”

His name leaves your lips in a desperate sob, your hands clawing at him, grasping, clutching, threading through his hair, pressing into his back, like you’re begging him to stay.

His jaw clenches, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of your head, his entire body trembling with the weight of his own emotions.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice breaking, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much—please, please—”

Jungkook’s body locks up.

You feel the sharp, unsteady inhale against your throat, the way his hips slow, the way his entire frame shudders above you.

And then. He moves. Faster. Harder.

Like he’s trying to drown himself in you.

Like he’s trying to answer you in the only way he can.

“I don’t wanna go,” he chokes out, voice thick, breath ragged. His hands find yours, fisting them into the sheets, lacing your fingers together, grounding himself in the way you squeeze back. “Fuck, baby, I don’t wanna go—”

But he has to.

And you both know it.

You barely notice when Jungkook shifts, when he maneuvers you onto your side with him, pulling you flush against his chest, his body curving around yours like he’s shielding you from reality itself.

But you do notice the way he rolls his hips against you, slow, deliberate, grinding against your soaked, swollen folds like he’s trying to commit the sensation to memory.

And fuck—

Maybe he is.

“Jungkook—”

His name comes out in a breathy whimper, your head tipping back against his shoulder, your hand scrambling for purchase over the strong muscle of his forearm, his bicep—anything to keep you grounded.

Because his cock—hot, heavy, throbbing—keeps pressing against your entrance, sliding through the slick mess of your arousal, teasing, toying, like he wants to sink in but can’t bring himself to do it yet.

Like he isn’t ready.

“Shh, baby—” His voice is hoarse, thick with something unreadable. His lips press against your bare shoulder, dragging over your skin, his nose brushing along your throat as he breathes you in. “Just let me—”

His mouth trails lower.

And lower.

Until he reaches your chest.

His arm tightens around your waist as he dips his head, lips finding the curve of your breast, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there before his tongue flicks over your nipple.

And you swear—

It’s not even lustful.

It’s worship.

The way his mouth latches around the sensitive bud, the way his hand cups your other breast, kneading, memorizing, the way he hums against you, like he wants to take his time, like he wants to savor every inch of you.

“Jungkook, please—“

He shudders. You feel it against your spine, the way his breath stutters, the way his hips jerk forward, pressing his length right against where you need him.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, voice strained, mouth still pressing kisses over the swell of your chest, over your racing heart. “I know—”

And then he grabs your chin. Tilts your head back—forces you to look at him.

That’s his breaking point.

Because the second your glassy eyes meet his, the second he sees the devastation mirrored in them, the reality of it all crashes into him.

And he crumbles. “Fuck—”

A strangled sob rips from his throat as he buries his face in your neck, pressing impossibly closer, hips stuttering as he finally pushes inside.

And then—

You’re both crying.

Sobbing into each other’s skin, moaning between gasps of breath, holding onto one another like it’s the last time.

Because it is.

Jungkook’s hand slides under your neck, cradling it, supporting your head as he tilts your chin back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat to him. And then—

He pulls you closer.

Flush against him, like he wants to melt into you, fuse your bodies together until there’s nothing separating you anymore.

“Baby—” His voice is broken, wrecked, his breath hot against your skin as he presses his forehead into the back of your head, lips parting against your damp, heated flesh.

And then—

He opens you up.

His hand skims down, trembling fingers slipping between your thighs, urging them wider, needing to feel more of you, needing to bury himself so deep you’ll still feel him even after he’s gone.

And you let him.

You let him spread you open, let him take you, let him push in harder—

Until he’s slamming his hips against you in deep, desperate thrusts, shaking with the force of it, choking on every ragged breath, every shuddering gasp.

And god—

You’re both crying.

Crying into each other’s mouths, into each other’s skin, tears mixing with sweat as you claw at his arms, at the hand cradling your neck, clinging to him, needing him closer, harder, deeper.

“Jungkook—please—”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore.

To stay? To never stop? To love you forever?

But he does.

And it destroys him.

“I don’t wanna go—” he gasps, voice cracking, hips jerking forward as he buries his face in your neck, body shuddering against yours. “Fuck, baby, I don’t—I can’t—”

You feel his tears hot against your skin, feel the way his arms tighten around you like he’s afraid to let go, afraid to leave, and god—

You can’t stop touching him.

Your hands are everywhere—gripping his wrist where it holds your neck, clutching at his forearm, dragging over the sweat-slicked muscle of his thigh, his stomach, memorizing the hard planes of his body the way he’s trying to memorize you.

Because this—

This is all you have left.

Your hands come up—shaking, desperate—gripping his wrists, stopping him from moving.

And then—

You push him.

Jungkook barely has time to catch himself before he’s on his back, chest rising and falling in unsteady gasps as you hover above him, eyes wet, cheeks damp, tears slipping down your chin.

You sniffle, rubbing at them frantically, like if you just wipe them away, maybe this won’t feel so real.

But it is real.

He’s leaving.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

A broken sob spills from your lips as you lower yourself back down, knees pressing into the mattress, hands trembling as you splay them over his chest—warm, solid, here.

And then—

You nuzzle into his neck.

Curl into him like you’re trying to disappear inside of him, like if you press yourself close enough, maybe you won’t have to let him go.

His hands find your hips, big and steady, guiding you gently—up, down, slow, like he’s trying to lull you, soothe you, even as his own breath shudders with restraint.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple, voice thick, aching.

But you can’t.

You can’t stop crying, can’t stop the way your fingers tangle in his hair, can’t stop the way your lips press to his forehead like you’re trying to imprint the words into him—

“I’ll miss you so much—”

A sharp inhale against your skin.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me—please, please don’t do this—”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, but it’s not enough.

It’ll never be enough.

You sniffle again, shaking your head, pressing your forehead against his, tears slipping between your lips as you whimper—

“I miss you—”

And Jungkook breaks. Because you say it like he’s already gone.

A strangled noise rips from his throat as his grip on your waist tightens, arms wrapping fully around you, locking you against him as he thrusts up, rolling his hips into yours, trying to chase something he doesn’t know how to hold onto.

“Baby, please—”

His voice cracks, raw, wrecked, and god—

He’s getting harder.

Because he can feel it—the grief, the desperation, the fucking longing—twisting into something unbearable, something that only makes him want you more, love you more, need you more.

“Please don’t say that,” he rasps, burying his face in your shoulder, breath hot, uneven. “I love you so much—so fucking much—”

And then—

He takes over.

Because your pace is faltering, your body trembling from the weight of it all, from the sheer, devastating force of what you’re about to lose.

And Jungkook—

Jungkook can’t let you bear it alone.

But then—

Jungkook pulls you back.

His hands come up—big, warm, trembling—and they cup your face, fingers pressing into the damp skin of your cheeks, thumbs catching stray tears that refuse to stop falling.

You resist.

You don’t want to look at him.

You can’t bear it.

But he won’t let you hide. “Baby—” His voice is a wreck, breathless and broken, and he forces your forehead against his, holds you there, his grip firm but careful, like he’s afraid you might shatter in his hands.

“I love you,” he murmurs, over and over, lips brushing yours with every shaky exhale. “I love you so fucking much, I’ll be back, I swear I’ll be back—”

And you just shake your head, tears slipping onto his skin, slipping between your lips as you sob.

“But you’ll be gone—”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

“You won’t be here—”

His chest is heaving, his entire body shuddering beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin as you whisper, “I’ll miss this. I’ll miss you.”

And then he breaks. “I know,” he chokes, voice cracking, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—”

And then—

“Just—just let go for me.”

It’s not a command. It’s a plea.

Because it hurts—

It hurts to feel you like this, to hear you like this, to know that he’s about to leave you like this.

So you do. You let go. You both do.

You scream.

It’s not just pleasure.

It’s everything.

It’s grief and desperation and love and loss, and Jungkook takes it all, swallows it down as his own release rips through him, as he gasps into your mouth, as he lets go right alongside you.

And then—

Then he breathes.

He breathes into your mouth like it’s his only supply of air, like he’s trying to fill you with everything he has left to give.

Like if he breathes deep enough—

Maybe he can stay.

——

Jungkook is still moving inside you.

Barely.

Just these tiny, barely-there thrusts, like he’s trying to soothe you, like he’s trying to lull you down from everything, from the wreckage of it all.

Your sobs have quieted.

You’re just breathing now. Blank, staring past his shoulder, into the dark, your body heavy against him.

And Jungkook hates it.

He rubs a hand down your back, slow and steady, pressing you closer, whispering soft things against your temple—your name, baby, I love you, I’ve got you.

And then, gently— “Baby, can you lift yourself?”

You just shake your head. Barely make a sound, just this tiny, broken grunt that he feels more than hears.

And he laughs.

Sniffles, still recovering, his chest still shaking from the mess of it all, but he laughs—just a little, just enough.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, voice thick, and then—

He lifts you.

His cock bends in an uncomfortable way, and he hisses, but it slips out, and he doesn’t care—not about the sting, not about the way you’re leaking onto his stomach, not about anything except the way you nuzzle into his neck like you never want to leave.

And then—

“That was really fucking sad.” Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the words cut through the thick, heavy silence, and Jungkook laughs.

Like, actually laughs.

Because, fuck, it really was.

He keeps laughing for a second, shaking his head, still wiping at his face, still recovering, and then—

Then he softens. Then he looks at you, tucking the damp strands of hair away from your face, and says—

“I’m sorry.”

Soft, real.

And then he leans in, kisses your forehead the same way he always does—

The same way that makes your heart ache.

The same way that makes you feel loved.

And you breathe.

You breathe, and you whisper, “I know. I’m sorry for breaking down like that. I don’t know why—”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, firm. “No, you’re not the one who should be sorry right now. It’s me.”

And for a second, you don’t say anything.

You just look at him—his wet lashes, his swollen lips, the raw emotion still lingering in his eyes—

And then—

You press a kiss to his forehead.

Just soft. Just gentle.

And Jungkook freezes. Because you’ve never done that before.

His breath catches, his eyes flicker shut, and when he exhales, it’s shaky, but so, so full of warmth. Jungkook doesn’t say anything at first. He just breathes, coming down from the high of you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your bare hip, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin.

And then he sees the time.

Shit.

He doesn’t let you notice, though. He forces himself to stay in the moment for a little longer, brushing your hair back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before he sits up, slipping out of bed.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You let him, let him help you into the bathroom, let him be gentle with you. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just wets a washcloth and runs it over your skin, his touch careful, reverent. He presses another kiss to your forehead before handing you a fresh pair of clothes.

“Go eat,” he says. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

You don’t argue, slipping into the kitchen while he gathers himself. When he finally comes out, you’re already halfway through your now cold pancakes, sitting on the counter, swinging your legs absentmindedly.

He watches you for a second, committing it to memory.

Then, finally, he checks the time.

Eight. He’s already late.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Baby, I gotta go.”

You pause mid-bite, your expression dropping just slightly before you school it into something neutral. “Oh,” you say. “Right.”

Jungkook steps between your legs, hands coming up to hold your face. You lean into his touch immediately, and something about it makes his chest ache.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You know he doesn’t just mean tonight.

You nod, forcing a small smile. “You’ll text me?”

“Of course.”

And then he kisses you, slow and lingering, like he’s trying to make it last. Like he wants you to remember.

You will.

Jungkook lingers in the doorway, looking at you like he doesn’t want to leave. Like he’s willing himself to step out, to break the moment before it breaks him.

“I love you,” he says, voice soft.

Your throat tightens. “I love you too.”

He presses one last kiss to your forehead, squeezing your waist before finally pulling away.

“Bye, baby,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “Bye.”

And then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut, and you just… stare at it.

You don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the counter, breakfast forgotten, staring at the empty space where Jungkook just was.

It’s weird.

For the past few months, every single day has had him in it. Whether it was just a text or a call or him physically showing up, he was always there.

And now, in two days, he won’t be.

Your stomach twists, and just as the overwhelming realization starts sinking in—

Your ringtone blares from your bedroom.

You already know who it is before you even check.

You scramble for your phone, pressing it to your ear.

“Hey, bitch, you getting ready?”

You barely have time to answer before your voice wobbles. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause.

“You sound sad,” Nari says suspiciously. “What’s up?”

And then— The floodgates open.

“I don’t want him to go,” you wail, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh—”

“I don’t, Nari! I really, really don’t!”

There’s a shuffle on the other end, like she’s sitting up straighter. “Oh, babe…”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I just— We just—” You suck in a breath, chest aching. “It was so much. It was—” You shake your head, unable to find the words. “It wasn’t just sex, it was—God, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Like love?” Nari offers gently.

You let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. Like love.”

She sighs, softer this time. “I know.”

“I can’t believe he’s leaving,” you whisper, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror. Your mascara is already smudged again. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to wake up and not have him here. I don’t want to go back to how it was before—”

“You won’t,” Nari interrupts. “Even if he’s gone for a while, it’s not the same as before. He’s yours now, isn’t he?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because… is he?

You’ve never said it out loud. Never defined it. But it feels like he is. Right?

“…God, I don’t know anymore,” you groan, rubbing your hands down your face. “I hate him.”

“You don’t,” she says simply.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

You huff, frustrated. “That’s the problem!”

Nari laughs, and despite everything, you find yourself smiling weakly.

A beat of silence. Then, gently, “You’ll be okay, babe. I promise.”

You take a deep breath, trying to believe her. “I’ve had to redo my mascara, like, seven times.”

She groans. “And you’re gonna redo it an eighth if you keep crying. Now hurry up before our boss has another meltdown.”

You sigh, sniffing one last time. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t.”

“That’s my girl. Love you, bye.”

You close your eyes. “Love you, bye.”

You hang up, taking another deep breath, shaking off the sadness.

Work. You just have to get through work.

You pick up your mascara again. Round eight.

Nari pulls up to your building, glancing at you with a smug grin. You really didn’t wanna get the bus today, so Nari had kindly offered to take you.

“You look pitiful,” she says.

You groan, throwing your head back against the seat. “I literally just was crying, that’s not my fault.”

“No, it’s Jungkook’s.”

You glare at her. “So are you driving me to work, or what?”

She hums, dragging it out, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of effort.”

“Nari.”

“Maybe if you beg.”

You groan. “Pleaseeee, oh my god, you know you were gonna take me anyway—”

She smirks, finally shifting gears. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“You’re a demon,” you grumble, crossing your arms as she pulls out.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

Unfortunately.

The drive is short, and Nari makes sure to grab your face before you step out, inspecting you like a concerned mother.

“Okay, you look fine. Let’s go.”

You drag yourself inside, already dreading the day.

The morning is slow, as usual. The diner hums with the same familiar sounds—the coffee machines, the occasional chatter, the soft rustling of newspapers from the old man who sits in the corner every morning without fail.

You’re zoning out, trying to will yourself to get back into your normal routine when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Jungkook [9:14AM]: are you at work rn? you probably are. just checking in.

You bite your lip, quickly typing back.

You [9:15AM]: yeah, just started. slow morning. where are you now?

It doesn’t take him long to reply.

Jungkook [9:15AM]: im close to my parents house now. kinda excited actually. but i miss you.

Your chest tightens a little.

You [9:16AM]: i miss you too.

You keep texting back and forth for a bit—him telling you about his plans for the day, you filling him in on how your boss has already screamed about a missing bag of coffee beans. It feels normal. Comfortable. Like he’s still here.

And for now, you let yourself enjoy that.

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