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porkcutletbowl44 · 1 day

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Pls post deleted scenes 🙇🏽‍♀️

Hi anon! I'm sorry this took so long, but I wanted to accumulate as much deleted scenes as I could until I started running out of the intrusive ideas for now 🤣

A lot of these won't make sense, hence why they are deleted because I have deleted a lot of scenes because I change my mind a lot, most are just funny replies, my notes to read for later, and just... Feral in general lmao.

So, yes, deleted for a reason! (I will be adding to it if I come across more out of pocket shit)

(probably riddled with spelling and Grammar mistakes)

Far From Perfect Deleted Scenes

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(Spoiler free! at least one of these scenes is NSFW)

-----

That comment strikes a nerve, and for a fraction of a second, Keegan's composure falters.

But he quickly regains his composure, and a flicker of irritation shows in his eyes. "Twat?" he repeats, his voice just as cool as before. "That's a new one. I prefer handsome devil, personally."

"More like arrogant prick." Simon replied with distain.

-----

He knew that Simon was a strong guy, and he had no doubt that he could hold his own in a fight. But he also knew that strength wasn't everything.

He glanced at Simon struggling with the barbell, silently amused. He chuckled to himself and leaned over to Hesh, who was watching the scene unfold with a smirk on his face.

"Y'know, for a big tough guy, he's got some pretty small dick vibes," Keegan quipped, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Hesh snickered, trying to muffle his laughs.

"Yeah, he's overcompensating for something," he said, his eyes fixed on Simon.

"Probably said micro penis."

-----

Soap only shook his head with a scoff, muttering out, "Bloody hell..." under his breath, before leaning over and smacking Simon upside the back of the head.

He grumbled out in irritation, "Get yerself together, ya prick."

-----

Fawn looks up from her coloring book, looking over at her cow.

"Dad...you're a heifer. Just like my cow."

-----

Simon huffs in annoyance, you swear you saw his eye twitch to hold back his anger.

"You think you can just excuse your actions? Moving on like nothing mattered between us?"

"I swear to GOD I'm gonna invest in a meat hook next to make the other side of your ribs to match."

-----

[this shit is ass delete immediately, uncontinue, swap for 3rd]

"Do you remember when we first met?"

It was a dumb question, he knows you do. You’ve told him countless times that you’ll never forget.

You shake your head, confused, "Simon, what is this about?-"

His large hands moved from your arms to your thighs, pushing them apart so he could step even closer to you.

His warm hands gently grip your soft flesh, his fingers squeezing your thighs gently.

"Just answer me," he pleaded.

He wanted to get closer, but he’ll hold himself back.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He repeated.

"Yes," you whisper.

A small, halfhearted laugh escaped from him, but it lacked any humor.

"What was your first thought o' me?"

He knew the answer to this, again, it’s a dumb question, but he wanted to hear it from you. He needed to.

"It was dark, all I saw was your mask and I thought you were gonna kill me..." You nervously smiled, trying to suppress it.

He almost smiled— but he didn’t, not just yet.

Not when he was standing between your legs, his fingers digging into your thighs.

"An' when you saw m'face?"

His head tilted down towards yours, making sure you had no choice but to look up at him with those pleading eyes of yours.

"I...." You trailed off, taking in a breath. "I don't know how to answer that."

His hands on your thighs squeezed gently, as if trying to keep you there. He was losing his patience, fast. He had to keep it together. He can’t get angry, it would wreck everything.

"Say it," He urges. "What did y'think when you saw m'face for the first time?"

"I thought... Maybe you weren't such a asshole after all. You trusted me,"

His thumb moves to start rubbing small circles on your inner thigh, his mind remembering how it’d move between your legs.

"Y'were the only one I trusted with a lot o' things," he said hoarsely, his eyes scanning your face.

His touch was making you shiver, he knew. But he wasn’t going to do anything irrational, especially when he knows you're still hurt, mad at him.

"The only one I trusted with m'heart," he continued. "The only one that I trusted with my life... Y'know that."

-----

"You just said y'would. You'd consider it."

He steps closer to you again, the distance between your bodies almost nonexistent thanks to his fat chest. "You'd consider going out with another guy, just like that?"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm free to do that if I want to, huh? Considering YOURE THE ONE WHO LEFT ME FOR A FUCKING BIMBO!"

-----

"I’ll go pack up her stuff if y'wanna go pump."

"Im gonna use the electric one finally, see how it works." You brush off

He didn’t respond to your statement, simply nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Though, he made a mental note to buy you a better electric breast pump. He’d been meaning to, for sometime, but just didn’t get around to it.

He gave you a light pat on the hip, signaling that he would head over to the nursery to start packing Fawn’s overnight stuff.

You sat Fawn on her play blanket, and fished around for the pump.

You opened the box and read the instructions.

In the other room, Simon headed into the nursery and began to gather up the items he’d need to pack into a small overnight bag: a couple of onesies, a change of clothes, nappies, powder, wipes. The usual supplies for a baby.

It didn’t take him long to get everything together. He sat down on the bed near the nursery and began pulling things out of the bag, double checking he had everything. Simon checked his watch and glanced towards the door, curious how long it was taking you to set up the breast pump.

Normally, it didn’t take long, just a few minutes of getting everything ready. It should’ve been done by now. But you were taking a long time, a noticeably longer time. His curiosity was starting to get the better of him.

He quietly walked to the door, silently slipping into the hallway and going to the living room.

Simon continued to slowly walk down the hallway, looking down when he heard you mumbling to yourself. He saw you sat on the couch, holding the breast pump in one hand and the instructions in the other.

He stopped in front of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, an amused look on his face.

"Everything alright, love?"

You huff silently, "It says to be placed with the opening at the top, but there's two openings..."

Simon stepped up to the couch, sitting down on the cushion next to you. He looked at the breast pump with you, seeing exactly what you were talking about.

"Y'don't say." He responded, unable to keep the smirk from playing at the corners of his lips.

"Maybe..." You capped the top one, and stuffed it down your shirt and held it in place.

You pressed the on button, and it started to work

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the sight of the pump resting against your chest. The way it sat, pushed against your chest, looked uncomfortable. He reached over to adjust it for you.

"It’s not uncomfortable?" Simon questioned, hand hovering in the air.

"No, it's just...cold." you shrug, letting him hold it in place.

His eyebrows furrowed in thought as you informed him that the pump was cold. Which made sense, considering it was sitting against your bare skin. He adjusted it slightly, trying to ensure it was secure.

"Right, right…" he responded, his voice a tad lower than usual.

Simon found his eyes drawn back to the sight of the breast pump, sitting against your chest.

"At least it's the right titty size."

You huff, deadpanning at him. By the time you were done, you were filling up the biggest mason jar you had with milk. Simon sat there, watching the jar you had the pump connected to fill up with an impressive amount of milk. He was… in awe, mildly shocked at the amount.

"Jesus… that’s a lot o' milk." He mumbled.

"Liquid gold," you smirk, circling the milk around the jar.

"Guess so," he hummed as he watched you circle the milk around the jar. His eyes were still fixated on your tits, particularly the area where the pump was sitting against.

He could feel his jeans growing tighter by the second, and quickly tried to find a distraction. He cleared his throat, trying to think of something to say. He knew that if he just sat there and stared at your breasts, he’d get distracted and things would escalate quickly.

"Y'know, this new pump works… efficiently." he commented, watching as you held the jar.

You nod along, holding up a finger for him to listen to the whirrr of the machine

He went quiet, listening intently to the sound the breast pump was making. He had to admit, the new one was faster, and much quieter than the one you were previously using.

Simon hummed in thought.

"Y'were right 'bout the new pump bein' better. Quiet too,"

-----

"No?" Simon repeated, his eyebrows raising in surprise at her reaction. "You don’t think they are nice?"

"No, because momma always says 'romance is dead', and 'men ain't shit', whatever that means..." She explained casually.

Simon sputters in shock and laughter, "Don't say bad words,"

"Sorry..."

-----

[black jack or crazy eights]

Hesh looks up from his cards with a pout.

"I'm not a sore loser, I just don't like cheaters," he retorts, his words laced with teasing humor.

"You're just a filthy cheater."

"Womp womp, L, ratio, get absolutely shit on—"

-------

[trashed for the better note]

Simon is home from his long day at HQ, locking the deadbolt behind him with a call of your name.

"In here, Si! I can't really walk fast..." you called out.

"'M comin'!" Simon shouted back, his voice a bit rougher than usual.

Simon eyes the kettle already cooling down from its boil, smiling appreciatively.

"Damn, look at ya... lil rascal getting ready to pop, huh?"

You smiled softly, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah, ready to pop my bladder. Been laying on it all day," you rubbed the back of your neck.

"I swear, you didn't have to piss so much before getting pregnant." Simon replied, turning the kettle off the eye.

"Then again, y'know how it is..." He shrugged. "Nothin' but a big ol' baby to the back of your bladder." he said, taking a couple of steps towards you, his hand reaching out to support your back.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his masked cheek.

"I'm ready for this thing to get outta me... I miss having sushi." You whined pitifully.

"Jus' a couple more weeks." he replied, resting his hand on your swollen stomach.

Simon looked down at you, his fingers tracing a small circle.

"Sushi an' wine. Thas what ya missin' the most, eh?" he asked.

"I can deal without wine, but I'd kill for a snow crab roll." You replied with a playful seriousness.

Simon scoffed, though it held no genuine disdain as he laughed. "Yeah, thas you just 'bout. Kill for food, sleep, an' me. What else?" he teased.

He drums his fingers on your belly, "Jus' hold on, yeah? 'M sure we can get you some sushi after things settle down."

"yeah." You smiled up at him, moving out of the way for him.

Simon chuckled, starting to go about the task of making tea.

"Not to mention the little one will be out n' 'bout before we know it." he said, looking down at you.

"An' then we'll have to deal with that. We're gonna have t'get used to bein' tired all the damn time... or just ya, really."

You glared at him slightly, dipping your pretzels in peanut butter.

"'M just sayin', 'm already used to bein' tired." Simon said with a small, smug smile, leaning against the counter.

"An' you'll be the one that's gonna have t'get up in the middle o' the night... feed him an' all that. So 'm gonna have me a lil sleepin' buddy." Simon joked, chuckling again... before realizing what he was saying.

"That uh, that sounded better in my head."

"'him'?" You looked at him confused.

"He... He... It... It's..." Simon replied, his voice growing frustrated as he tried to explain himself. "Whatever it is."

Simon paused for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to try to gather his thoughts

"I mean... I'd be fine no matter what it is." he offered, "I just.. just want it t'be healthy, Y'know?"

"yeah, I know. You think it's a boy?" You asked curiously, munching away.

"I mean..." Simon muttered, his tone growing serious, "I hope it's a boy... I, just,"

Simon sighed, "Just wanna be able to do the things with 'em. Take him out an' about. Teach 'im the things that I think a Dad should teach 'is son."

Simon paused again, letting out a small sigh.

"Sorry... I-I," Simon's voice had gone quiet.

what are you complaining about? It should be enough to have a healthy and happy child... right?

Your eyes softened.

"I get it...you wanna be the dad you didn't have."

"Exactly." Simon muttered, "I don't wanna be... well, I don't wanna be him."

"God, this kid is gonna be glued to your side." You giggle.

"I hope he is." Simon muttered, chuckling softly as he realized how he sounded.

"But... I want 'em to not be afraid to speak up and tell me 'bout stuff. I want 'em to not be afraid to let me know how they're feeling. I want 'em to come to me when they're sad or excited or hurt. I never *got* all that.. and.. well.. I want to give him the childhood I never had, you know?"

"you're already a great dad." You murmured affectionately.

Simon scoffed, though it held no genuine malice as he let out a small, soft chuckle. "Nah... haven't been a Dad yet. Just a... an expectin' father who's gonna soon be a Dad."

He paused a moment, looking down at your stomach, his hand shifting to rub it.

"The baby's still cookin' in there... we still got a ways to go before we start doin' the Dad stuff."

"well...you practically raised your brother. I think you have most of the skills already," you murmured carefully.

Simon stiffened slightly, his fingers tightening a little on your stomach for a moment, before settling once again.

"Right... well... he wasn't my son. He was my brother."

Simon sighed as he continued to massage your stomach.

"It's different." he said shortly, the topic of his brother something that Simon had always been sensitive about, even if he rarely spoke of it.

"it is different, but its still the same necessities, y'know? Feeding, bathing, bedtime..." You trailed off.

"I suppose..." Simon grumbled, his tone quiet, and his grip on your stomach now loosened, his hand now resting gently.

"I just want to be a better father than mine was... better than his. I wanna make sure this kid gets raised proper, y'know?"

"Just wanna be the father that a kid deserves. Not the alcoholic, narcissistic prick that I got." Simon grumbled softly, his words holding no malice, just the facts of his own miserable childhood.

"you're gonna be such a a good father..." You sighed out tenderly, cupping his cheek.

"I sure as hell 'ope so." Simon muttered, nodding as he looked at your hands on his cheek.

"I couldn't bare for our kid to experience even half the trauma that I did. Can't let 'em go through that, y'know?"

"you will." You assured. "You're not your father's son anymore." You shook your head. "You are your own person, top of the Riley family tree."

"Hmm.." Simon muttered softly, nodding as he took a deep breath.

"I know, but I can't help but... I just get scared." he admitted, looking up at you and meeting your eyes.

"Just the idea of havin' to take care 'o somethin'... someone other'n myself... it's a big responsibility." he breathed in again and let out a shuddering sigh, looking back to your swollen stomach.

"we are in this together, okay?" You murmured, trying to wash away his worries.

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

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rosesradio · 8 months

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i just realized that when the newest olympian gets to the later books, Mike is gonna totally root for jiper, frazel, caleo and solangelo just because they’re canon…🫠

#it’s already a little annoying when Mike was hardly saying anything wrong about the show because he was ‘a member of the press’#but like. he’d probably be worried about shippers so he wouldn’t want to admit the ships of hoo are…not great #or maybe he’ll like them when he reads them who’s to say #the newest olympian #pjo #anti jiper #anti frazel #anti caleo #anti solangelo #im not actually anti any of these ships i’m just tagging to cover my ass for the slight negativity im begging everyone to please be normal

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buddiekinard · 23 days

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honestly some of the shit i’ve had to read about eddie diaz on this thing from BOTH SIDES of fandom there’s like 10-20 people who i trust with him and they’re all my mutuals

#not reading one more post ever #about how he uses his friends especially buck #or doesn’t wholly accept buck for who and what he is #to the point that he LITERALLY told buck that he should call tommy #bc once tommy knows him #he’ll love him even tho he acted like a big dummy #GIVE ME A BREAK #eddie diaz has trusted buck with his whole ass son #since like less than a year into knowing him #also one more thing i ship buddie BECAUSE they have a deep platonic love #it’s something that really compels me #it’s a dynamic i love and always will #might not ever be canon but saying there’s no reason to ship them #besides the fact that they’re hot or whatever is absolutely ridiculous #canon ships are great but ships don’t have to be canon to be fun and interesting #anyway this fandom is exhausting #i’m too depressed to deal with this it makes me defensive and boring #or maybe i’m always depressing and boring but im just more self aware when im depressed lmao

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yanderenightmare · 8 months

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Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere

gn reader

Thinking about being childhood friends with Izuku, who’s always had a bit of a crush on you.

You’ve always known, but you’ve never humored it. He’s your friend – anything else would just be awkward. If you had to put it in any other term, you’d say he felt more like a little brother.

You wish he’d allowed the two of you to grow apart – as normal people do.

There wasn’t really any reason for the two of you to stay friends after middle school. His quirk suddenly manifested, and he got into UA – became a pro-hero – and then the symbol of peace. And you were still… kind of just doing your thing – studying, working, struggling to pay rent – struggling to keep a date…

The two of you never had much in common anyway, and you never really knew what to talk about with him anymore – only knowing to ask him how his mother was. After all, you grew out of your otaku phase a long while ago – and otherwise, you felt out-educated in any and every conversation the two of you had with each other. You swear talking to him makes you feel like a toddler learning your first words – it’s humiliating, and you don’t understand how any of it’s remotely stimulating for him, either.

Still, he’ll text you when he has the time, asking if you’d like to meet up at a café – talk, catch up – and you, not wanting to be rude, always accept.

You’d gone wide-eyed the first time you’d met him after middle school. Jeez Louise – he’d had to have grown twice his size – jacked and scarred to no end. It only got worse over the years. Now, adults – he must be twice your size. Bigger even.

You blush now when he flirts with you. But not so much for the reasons he wants.

Honestly, it’s more uncomfortable than it’s flattering. It was Izuku, after all – Deku – no matter how little he resembled the crybaby from your childhood – he’d always be that same nerdy loser friend who’d chased after you ever since you first met.

He might have grown up, but his crush on you hadn’t.

His doe-eyed look of longing and adoration had always made you feel a little awkward – a little sorry for him. And now that he’s become a man, it’s only become even more… desperate… a little pathetic, actually…

Bedroom eyes that make you laugh nervously, pretending to brush it off as a joke but really wishing he’d just give it a rest already. Surely, as a pro-hero and public figure, he could get a date? One of the many screaming fans that pine for him everywhere he drags that awful golden cape he has on his shoulders. And if not any of them, then maybe a model. A movie star even.

Why is he so hung up on you?

The funny thing is, you’d tried vying him of his crush by telling him about hook-up after hook-up, boyfriend after boyfriend – treating him like a girlfriend you could gossip with.

But it’s almost like he takes it as a challenge – talking and helping you through your relationships, giving his input and advice – just like a real friend would… only… always implementing something… something condescending, something suggestive, something saying you ought to be with him instead – he’d never treat you like that, he’d never do you wrong, you’d be taking good care of with him.

You’d made the mistake of saying you were struggling with a class at university – just to make conversation – just to talk about something trivial. But of course, he’d seen it as an opportunity – quick to offer his help, saying he’d taken that class as an extracurricular – just for a bit of fun, he’d said, light reading material he’d done on the side of his internship.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to tell him no.

Suppose it’s the possibility of being wrong – the guilt of thinking he has impure intentions when he’s supposedly the purest person in the world.

But you should have trusted your instincts.

“Please, Izuku-” You’d immediately restored to begging. Who wouldn’t? He’s a two-meter-tall monster of a man – jacked with muscles fatter than a bear.

Your phone’s been missing since you came back from the bathroom – your lips wet with his unwanted kisses – your neck sore from having his fist wrapped around it when you tried stopping him.

You’d only managed to break free after biting – blood salty in your mouth. You nearly vomited, choking on a mix of bile and fear.

Fuck – your legs are so weak, you might just buckle from the dread alone – feeling like a bunny snagged on fox teeth.

“You used to take me when we’d play wrestle... you remember?”

The comment is pulled out of nowhere.

He stalks you, a fond look on his face as though the two of you were reminiscing good old times. As though his eyes weren’t a nocturnal green like foxfire on the fen. As though he wasn’t radiating black whip – ready to snare you.

“Think you can take me now?”

You had your hands raised apprehensively – but the hopelessness took its toll and made your entire body shake on the spot.

Your only hope was to talk him out of it. If only you could think past the fear and string a sentence together that wasn’t along the lines of “Please-”

But something about that look on his face told you he wouldn’t listen to reason anymore. Not manic, not like a person who’d finally snapped – but controlled – resolute – and playful even. Nothing like you’d ever seen. Nothing you could understand.

“What’s wrong, hm?” He smiles, head tipped in that charming way that used to make you want to pinch his cheek. Now it just makes you sick to look at – swallowing thickly as you tack another step back away from it. “I’ll go easy – so don’t worry… I know it's not exactly a fair fight anymore…”

Your better judgment failed you – fight-or-flight kicked in, and you made a break for it.

Budging into the couch on your way, it’s a messy scramble for the door – but you manage. Feeling feverish with dread and pumped full of adrenaline, you brush the cold handle with just your fingertips before something wraps around your midriff in a snug grip – pulling you back into the living room.

You’re lifted from the ground, kicking – now screaming – flailing in the air before you’re flipped on your back against the couch.

“Don’t be like that~” He murmurs. “Always so wishy-washy~” Voice in a low purr that makes you feel like coughing up your heart – squirming beneath him and his heavy hands as they paw your thighs – manhandling you like nothing you’d ever imagine him to do.

Raking his fingers through the dough before squeezing your ass greedily – kneading his fat crotch against the thin fabric protecting your sex.

“Complaining about all your weak-dicked boyfriends as if begging me to come fuck you myself – yet such a flighty little slut when it comes down to it.” He sneers, and blackwhip tightens some around your limbs. “Let me help you out.”

One hand tugs your underwear until it rips, whilst the other hand pulls up to grab your face – squeezing your cheeks to keep you still when forcing his kisses on you.

“After all… what are friends for?”

♡ DEKU - MIDORIYA IZUKU masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

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euthymiya · 3 months

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camera roll — ft. ryomen sukuna

sukuna doesn’t appreciate how often his annoying little nephew comes over and takes up your time—until you share a few pictures of you and him to little yuuji. maybe the runt’s starting to grow on him

before you read: fem reader ; non curse au/modern au ; established relationship ; uncle sukuna and nephew yuuji ; mentions of itadori jin and kaori ; mentions of reader wearing heels and being carried by sukuna ; sukuna being a terrible influence to children (and being a softie on the low)

Sukuna doesn’t like children. They’re little troublemakers. They’re nuisances. They take up space and cause chaos. They whine. They cry and kick and scream. They don’t pay bills and eat away at your wallet. They’re clingy and talk a lot. They don’t have jobs and never contribute to the economy. The list goes on.

(You like to point out this mindset is just a byproduct of his upbringing, and that he should heal. He thinks that’s a load of bullshit. He grew up just fine. He doesn’t need to heal from anything—he’s just right. Kids are weird and unsettling).

Yuuji is no exception. The kid is an irritating spawn of his brother—they even have the same smile. Too happy, too nice, too talkative, and too bubbly. So what if Yuuji is his nephew? He doesn’t have to enjoy the runt’s company just because he’s family. (You like to really put emphasis on the family part).

And you’re persistent. You invite the little runt over every chance you get. You always agree to babysitting so his brother can have his date nights and spend quality time with that equally as annoying wife of his. (It’s Jin’s fault for not thinking things through. If he just kept it in his pants, he could easily find time to have dates and spend time with his lousy wife, but no. He decided to knock up the woman and make it Sukuna’s problem too).

It’s an eyesore to say the least to walk into his living room and see a small, useless child curled up in your lap, taking his place where he should be resting his head, and giggling to yourselves.

Irritating. Nauseating. So outright infuriating.

Sukuna hates kids.

“And that’s uncle ‘Kuna and me at the beach,” you grin, “see that castle? He helped me build it. Don’t tell him I told you that, though or he’ll eat me.”

“Woah,” Yuuji gasps, staring in awe at the photo in your phone. Sukuna’s eye twitches. You promised not to tell anyone he helped you build that stupid sand castle. He just wanted you to be quiet when you kept whining for his help. “Uncle ‘Kuna’s got big muscles!”

“Yeah, he does,” you nod, grinning. You swipe through a few more photos before stopping at another one. Yuuji’s eyes bulge even wider. “See? That’s him at the gym. Sometimes I go and watch him. Doesn’t he look so strong?”

“Uh huh,” the kid nods furiously. “He’s so cool,” he adds, voice laced in admiration.

Well, at least the runt has a brain. He definitely didn’t get it from his father, but it’s there. That’s a start.

“And that’s us on our first anniversary. See how sweet your uncle is? He’s carrying me to the car because my feet were hurting.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes. He told you those shoes would hurt your feet, and then your whining would make it his problem. Evidently everyone he surrounds himself with likes to make things his issue to deal with. And he was right—you did end up whining about those damn heels. (They did make your legs look good, he’ll admit that much. But still, you didn’t need to go through the trouble of wearing them only to bugging him with your complaining. He finds your legs hot regardless of what shoes you wear).

“Uncle ‘Kuna’s so nice,” Yuuji nods, giggling before he looks up at you, poking a chubby finger into your cheek and says, “so pretty!”

“Aw Yuuji,” you grin, “aren’t you the sweetest little man?”

You lean in and press an attack of kisses to the brat’s cheeks. Sukuna crosses his arms and glares at the way the runt laughs in glee at your affection. Who does he think he is, feeling your lips on his skin?

Once you settle down, you pull him flush against your chest again, back pressed to you as an arm wraps around his tiny frame, holding him close.

“Look, this is when we went on our first vacation! See how your uncle likes to sleep on my chest? He says he hates cuddling but he’s a liar.”

“Lies are bad!” Yuuji gasps, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod seriously, “super bad. You’ll always tell the truth right Yuuji? Don’t be like your mean uncle, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, nodding like he means it.

If it was up to him, Sukuna would grab the kid off your lap and set him out on the streets to find his own way home. How dare the brat sit on his couch with his girlfriend and act holier than him?

And it’s not a lie. Sukuna thinks cuddling is stupid. Using your chest is a pillow isn’t cuddling, it’s getting comfortable. You’re the liar.

“And see this one? That’s us having a picnic. You know your uncle ‘Kuna surprised me with that? He can be really sweet, y’know. He just likes to pretend he’s all tough.”

Yuuji giggles again—and then his eyes land on Sukuna at the entrance of the living room, brightening at the sight of him.

Great. He’s been spotted. Just want Sukuna needed after a long day of work. More annoying people.

“It’s uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuuji points his pudgy little finger at him before waving a tiny hand. “You’re back!”

“And you’re still here,” Sukuna’s eyes narrow, “why?”

“That’s no way to greet your nephew, Sukuna,” you scold, earning an eye roll from your boyfriend.

He trudges over, (carefully) pushing Yuuji to scoot over on your lap so he can lay his head where it rightfully belongs on your legs and settle on the couch. He sighs and closes his eyes as your fingers gently weave through his hair.

“Had a long day at work, I don’t need this brat still taking up my space. Tell ‘im to pay bills if he wants to stay so bad.”

“Oh c’mon, he’s been waiting for you all day,” you grin, “haven’t you Yuuji?”

“Uh huh!” The runt nods, leaning down to hover over Sukuna’s face. He opens an eye, peering up at the kid as Yuuji pokes a finger at his cheek. “Wanna play?”

“No,” he grumbles, pretending to bite at the finger.

Yuuji shrieks, pulling it away quickly and earning a low chuckle from Sukuna while you glare.

“Hey!” You scold, “you be nice to—”

“Again! Again!” Yuuji laughs brightly, holding a finger to hover over Sukuna’s lips. You blink and so does he, staring at the child before Sukuna’s lips curl into a small, smug grin.

“If you say so, ya runt.”

He snaps at the tiny finger Yuuji holds over his lips again, this time getting in a (gentle) nibble that makes the child squeal and laugh brightly.

“Uncle ‘Kuna’s gonna eat me,” he laughs.

“S’right, I’ll eat ya like you’re dinner. So quit comin’ over, you wretched brat.”

Yuuji, as innocent and hopeful as a little child is supposed to be, takes Sukuna’s smirk as a sign his uncle is happy to play. So he crawls off your lap, plopping himself to sit on Sukuna’s chest and smile happily down at him while you coo at the sight.

“Oh my gosh, he’s too cute! Sukuna don’t even think about moving—I’m getting a picture. Jin will love it!”

“Don’t take a fuckin’ pic—”

“Do not curse in front of a child!” You follow your scolding with a smack at his head, making him grunt angrily.

“I swear if you get a damn photo of—”

Click.

The sound of your phone’s camera going off cuts him off, silencing him with a wicked glare he sends up at you from your lap. It’s not so menacing when you take in the fact that his hand has securely planted itself at the base of Yuuji’s back, keeping him from falling over.

Sukuna hates children—he reminds you of this fact constantly. He has a soft spot for his little nephew, though. You don’t point it out so he can keep his facade up for his sense of dignity, but you know the facts.

Yuuji’s favorite snacks are stocked up in the cabinets for his arrival today—and you certainly haven’t had a chance to grocery shop this week. A small, tiny little inkling tells you that your boyfriend is developing something of a soft spot for his nephew.

“Look Yuuji,” you grin at the small child, ruffling his hair as you turn your phone to face him, “it’s you and uncle ‘Kuna! Your very own picture together! Isn’t that nice?”

“Yay!” He claps, eyes crinkling excitedly as he smiles happily at the picture.

Sukuna’s eyes soften just a bit before he’s back to frowning, a grumpy crease of his forehead as he huffs.

“I’m sick of this darn brat.”

————— bonus —————

“Fuck!” Yuuji says as he drops his sippy cup.

Sukuna freezes, eyes quickly darting over to you from the sink where he’s washing the dishes. You stop, stilling where you’re clearing the table. Your hand pauses mid air from its path to pick up glass, head slowly turning to look over at the child.

“Yuuji,” you say slowly, “where did you learn that word?”

He better not—Sukuna stares holes into the kid’s head. The runt better not rat him out or he really will eat him. Maybe even do worse. He’d better keep his annoying little mouth shut before—

“Uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuuji points to Sukuna, as if he wants the man to die.

Your eyes instantly glare over at him. Sukuna tenses, clenching his jaw as he shoots a dirty look at his nephew.

“You damn snitch! They ought to teach you about tattling at that fancy day care of yours—”

“Quit yelling at him for your doing! Just you wait till he’s home,” you glower, “I’ll deal with you later.”

Sukuna scowls, returning to washing the dishes with a sulky frown on his face as you bend down and gather Yuuji into your arms.

“Is that awful man being a bad influence on you?” You coo, “he is, isn’t he? Don’t worry, I’ll teach that terrible uncle of yours a lesson, okay? But don’t use that word, Yuuji. Only non self respecting people use that language.”

Yuuji doesn’t even understand what that means, he wants to say. He holds his tongue, though, just to save himself from even a little of your wrath—but the runt is never welcome back to his home again, Sukuna thinks, grumbling to himself under his breath as you offer Yuuji the last of his ice cream.

High key I don’t know how to write children so Yuuji’s parts might be cringe but just look away OKAY

#writing tag #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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katsukistofu · 3 months

Text

my caffeine mix-up!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | pt. ii

You take a sip of your morning coffee and almost spit it out on your dashboard.

This could not be your order. It was so… unusually sugary. Too sugary. Like someone liquified a whole candy store and shoved it into a venti cup.

Still reeling a little from the overly sweet aftertaste that lingers on your tongue, your eyes trail down to read:

Vt Crml Crnch Frap

5 Banana

Ex Caramel Drizzle

Extra Whip

Extra Ice

Ex Cinnamon

7 pumps Add Dk Crml Sauce

Ex Caramel Crunch

1 pump Honey Blend

Heavy Cream

Double Blended

What kind of pretentious asshole orders this garbage? Were their taste buds dead?

You mentally sent your condolences to the poor person that had to make this disgusting monstrosity of a drink. Please, you would’ve taken one look at the order and thrown it in the trash.

Your eyes searched the paper cup for who your local coffee shop transgressor was– catching sight of a scribble in blue marker reading “H-A.” You moved your hand a bit to reveal a “W-K-S.” A sense of dread creeps in as you numbly stare at the squiggly heart next to it.

It was like someone slipped an ice cube down the back of your shirt.

You had mistakenly picked up the wildly famous winged pro hero’s order and to make things even worse, put your mouth on where his was supposed to be.

Okay that sounded kind of dirty. But it’s not like you could drive back and return it now, what with your lip gloss already staining the lid.

Hey, um, I think I accidentally took a sip of the Hawks’s coffee? Oopsies? You guess you could pay for his order to be remade, but who’s to say he’ll even come back for it, much less accept it from some random stranger?

You were already running late to your desk job as is, and your coworkers were probably scratching their heads, wondering where you were since you always arrived at least half an hour before them. Should you just throw it away and pretend it never happened?

Oh god, would some person dig through the trash the moment you turned your back and extract your DNA from your lip gloss on the lid, thinking you were a deranged fan who stole his drink on purpose?

Or worse—that you were his secret girlfriend picking up his drink who had just wanted a little taste first before delivering it to him?

Your brain starts to wring itself dry of all the possibilities that could happen, shuddering despite each one being as unlikely as the next. An impressive mental workout for an un-caffeinated person at barely eight in the morning.

You wish you never even went to get your usual little treat today. That barista definitely looked right at you when you went to pick up your order, you swear they did.

But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe they were looking at the person standing behind you that you didn’t see as you rushed out of the shop? How do you even miss a man with wings that big?

Something gently knocks on the driver side window and you almost jump out of your seat.

As you roll it down with caution, your brain momentarily stops functioning as you’re met with a pair of striking golden eyes. Another inch of tinted glass down, a strong Grecian nose.

Forget work, the hell. You didn’t even know noses could be that pretty, and as your last bit of window disappears into the car so does your self-respect as you realize he’s abandoned his usual tan-colored jacket, standing before you in his black compression shirt with gold embossment.

Forget everything, actually.

You don't realize you’re holding your breath until he laughs at you, and you sheepishly close your slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know coffee thieves came this cute.” Drinking in your appearance his keen eyes stray from yours, slowly trailing down to your trembling lips, a stark contrast to the growing smirk on his. “Or this nervous.”

His fingers drum absentmindedly on the side of your car door, clear amusement written across his handsome face as he waits for you to say something. You collect yourself and snap out of your thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I’msososorryIdrankyourcoffee!” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as your words come out in a jumble. “I totally grabbed the wrong order and I can’t believe I didn’t see you waiting behind me, I swear I’m not a creep–”

“Hey, hey,” Hawks gently interrupts you, reassurance laced in his voice. “It’s all good, no harm done.” He taps the paper cup that somehow miraculously hasn’t slipped out of your fingers yet.

“Sooo was it good?”

You choke on air, not expecting that. “Your drink?”

“Yeah, my drink.” He shoots you a cheeky grin. That bastard. “Good or nah?” You pause, contemplating if you should lie–no. No, today you chose honesty.

“...Genuinely, I have no idea how you drink this shit.”

Hawks laughs at your bold answer. “Thanks for being my little taste tester anyways. Too sweet, huh?” The tip of his finger traces around the remnants of your lip gloss on the lid, the cup still in your now slightly shaky hand as you nod.

His touch seared against your skin, as his pretty fingers closed around yours to raise the drink up to his lips to take a slow sip, eyes never leaving your own.

With a gaze that was infuriatingly sultry as it was sweet, like a bird of prey beckoning a field mouse to be their next meal, he murmurs, “Just how I like it.”

You’re not really sure he was talking about the coffee anymore.

He hums, and your thighs involuntarily clench a bit as his soft-looking mouth closes around the opening of the lid to take another sip.

“I’d say you’re a villain that deserves their own special category.” He grins, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “One that involves letting me take her out to dinner.”

If you weren’t sitting down you know your legs would have given out. “Like… like on a date?” You gape at him incredulously. Because there was no way. Hawks. Just asked you out.

“Now sweetheart, what else would it be?” Hawks smirks at your dazed expression, like you’re sure you misheard him. So cute. “I mean, unless you don’t want to–”

“No!” He blinks, and your hand flies to cover your mouth at your sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, I want to…” You shyly say at a much quieter volume, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. He leans closer to you with a grin, languidly resting his folded arms over the open frame of your car door.

“It’s a date then. I know this really good sushi and ramen place down the block near my agency, my treat of course.”

“If I’m a villain is this your idea of rehabilitation?” You joke dryly. “Because it’s working.”

He tips your chin up. “Oh don’t worry pretty, I’m just getting started with turning you into a good girl.” A hot flush creeps up your neck to your cheeks, and you almost melt into a puddle right then and there at your steering wheel.

“I’d love to stay but I’m actually so late for work right now.” You utter weakly, chin still resting against his finger. Hawks tilts his head at that, unfolding his vibrant crimson wings as he wordlessly opens the front door of your car.

With little effort and an impressive flex of his biceps, plus a sharp intake of breath from you, one of his arms slips under your thighs and another firmly hugs you just under your shoulder blades as he lifts you up to his firm chest.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he feels your flustered arms hastily reach up to wrap around his neck. Honeyed eyes like molten gold meet yours as he gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh through your pencil skirt, and once again you find yourself needing a reminder to breathe.

“So, where to?”

‎

“IS THAT FUCKING HAWKS OUTSIDE OUR COMPANY’S BUILDING?!”

say you can’t sleep, baby i know, that’s that me expresso~ ♪

#my bsf read this and said her car about to get stolen IM SCREAMING #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #keigo takami #mha hawks #mha oneshot #hawks fluff

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luveline · 4 months

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping.

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered.

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely.

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap.

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in.

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them.

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him.

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you.

Your phone rings a moment later.

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too.

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start.

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further.

“Are you okay?”

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.”

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man.

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?”

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.”

“And you want me to fix that?”

“You always fix my neck.”

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that.

“I have bad posture.”

“You have perfect posture.”

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.”

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.”

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.”

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.”

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.”

“What did I lose?”

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.”

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.”

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.”

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says.

“Or I could make us both some?”

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected.

Cruel overpass, you think.

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek.

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later.

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back.

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill.

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard.

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain.

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor.

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth.

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath.

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something.

Your phone rings on the counter.

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins.

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.”

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot.

“Honey?” a voice asks.

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays.

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder.

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off.

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them.

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says.

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead.

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.”

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.”

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.”

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile.

“I look tired,” he says.

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it.

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.”

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile.

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.”

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.”

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?”

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.”

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.”

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea.

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you.

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?”

“You said I can give her a hug.”

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.”

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says.

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.”

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs.

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.”

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room.

You’re sleeping.

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing.

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze.

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown.

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic.

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly.

Jack stays sitting.

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt.

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown.

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says.

“When can she come home?”

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you.

“Why is she sleeping all day?”

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.”

“Should we go?”

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.”

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees.

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give.

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap.

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly.

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession.

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat.

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face.

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms.

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open.

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again.

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk.

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.”

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?”

“Excuse me?”

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need.

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively.

Aaron lets out a breath.

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.”

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some.

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone.

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.”

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.”

“I know.”

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.”

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.”

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?”

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder.

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper.

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down.

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying.

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears.

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic.

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow.

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow.

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand.

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk?

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from.

Where’s the worst of the blood?

It’s everywhere.

Abdominal? Chest?

I can’t tell. I can’t tell.

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but–

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions.

Honey, can you hear me?

Your name said clearly.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” you murmur.

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.”

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass.

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface.

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.”

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.”

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you.

You close your eyes.

“What stuck out?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.”

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?”

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.”

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.”

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?”

“I filled the kettle.”

“What kettle?”

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.”

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?”

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.”

“When?”

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.”

“Yeah,” Emily says softly.

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.”

“Like he was quick on his feet?”

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.”

“How big did he feel?”

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big.

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember.

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.”

“When was this?”

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers.

“That was at the end,” you say.

“After he stabbed you?”

You wince. “Yes. After.”

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.”

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.”

“When Hotch found you?”

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks.

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move.

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room.

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.”

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose.

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly.

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?”

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much.

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room.

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron.

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees.

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay.

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear.

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur.

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread.

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again.

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say.

“Yes, I do.”

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.”

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.”

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep.

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one. He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you.

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water.

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.”

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say.

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Please.”

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?”

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?”

“I don’t want to say it again.”

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.”

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?”

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.”

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread.

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern.

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.”

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?”

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop.

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again.

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative.

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says.

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world.

“…This is my fault.”

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep.

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.”

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly.

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.”

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I know.”

“No, I love you.”

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back.

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?”

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.”

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.”

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound.

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both.

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours.

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says.

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek.

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises.

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters.

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.”

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved.

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone.

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them.

I won’t.

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will.

Foyet didn’t need much more than that.

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either.

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid.

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner.

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries.

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this.

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again.

He rubs his brow.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

When he looks up, JJ is gone.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says.

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day.

He can’t fail you, too.

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks.

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?”

“Being in love.”

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.”

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks.

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger.

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt.

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says.

He shakes his head.

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.”

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety.

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.”

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.”

He turns his attention back to the board without another word.

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest.

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him.

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks.

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in.

“Honey?” Aaron calls.

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits.

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!”

“Hi, buddy, what are you doing?”

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.”

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask.

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.”

“How did you find him?”

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.”

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?”

“Brave.”

“I’m a coward.”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.”

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby.

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless.

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.”

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.”

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue.

“But it keeps happening.”

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead.

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?”

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths.

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–”

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands.

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says.

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?”

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.”

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.”

He looks at you in silence.

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.”

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?”

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag.

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed.

But not everything.

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head.

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly.

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered.

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Was Jack good?”

“Jack’s always good.”

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?”

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.”

“I can get those.”

“I know, I knew you would.”

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek.

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely.

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip.

“My present?”

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.”

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks.

“Thank you,” you say.

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him.

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.”

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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bandgie · 3 months

Text

Behave

prof!heesung x dean!Jake x fem!reader

3.1k words

warnings! mdni18+, DUBCON, 3some, throat fucking, piv, no protection, creampie, manipulation, cum eating (f!), fingering, reader is called 'slut' multiple times, abuse of power themes notes: please don't read if you're not comfortable OR before you read this! I also finally figured out how to do the three picture thingies yay!

All you did was talk back

There wasn’t any shouting, no cursing, no physical violence. Your professor was being a dick, as per usual, and you found it best to let him know how you didn’t appreciate his behavior. Truly, you didn’t think you said anything bad. Nothing that warranted an intense meeting between your professor and the university dean.

Professor Lee Heesung stood with his arms crossed, glasses resting low on his nose as he regarded you with disdain. It took everything in you to keep your eyes from rolling as the dean sat on his desk, disciplining your behavior.

“I think an apology is much needed to your professor, missy.”

Missy. You swear you see red when you hear those words. Mr. Sim Jae-yun doesn’t even acknowledge how demeaning that is to say. Not when he’s too busy looking at the exposed part of your thighs that bugle from you sitting. He’s beginning to think he should talk to the president to implement a rule that skirts must go past your knees. It doesn’t matter if being in a university doesn’t require a uniform, he’ll make it happen.

You scoff, crossing your arms in the same manner as Professor Lee. “With all due respect, Mr. Sim, I think not. Everyone in that class hates him. He’s such an ass.”

“Oh, I’m the ass?” Heesung unfolds his arms to point at you accusingly. “You’re the one wearing shorts that only show ass. I don’t need to take any type of ridicule from a slut-in-training.”

Any comeback you had quickly dies in your throat. It’s not as though you’ve never been called names before, but from a professor, that’s a first. You clear your throat and blink, still in slight disbelief. “See?” You look at Jake with desperation. “He’s being a dick right in front of you!”

But the dean doesn’t agree. All he does is sigh, “To be fair, it is really short.”

You groan. “As if any of that matters! I’m not gonna apologize to this asshole. And you can’t make me.” Ignoring their gawks, you huff and turn your head the other way. Maybe it would be better to swallow your pride and give them what they want. It would get them off your back and, hopefully, get everything back to normal. Yet, you catch yourself replaying how Heesung easily called you a whore and how the dean did little to nothing about it. Worst of all, how the tiniest part of you almost liked knowing that they were looking at you in a way that university staff should not.

The men exchange glances - looks you miss that involve smirks and nods.

“Go ahead and stand up.” It’s Jake who directs you. Rather than turning your whole head, you only peek from the side of your eyes. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll be expelled,” he says factly. Now you fully turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’re already stuttering about how he can’t do that, but he shuts you up with, “If you don’t want to give an apology, the least you can do is stand.”

So you do, hesitantly, but you do. Their gaze drops to your legs and you begin to tug your skirt just a few inches lower. It doesn’t matter how hot these men are, they still pissed you off. You couldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your plush skin. Not unless they deserved it, of course.

Heesung crosses one arm over his chest while his other hand is at his chin, putting him in a thinking pose. He regards you much differently now. There's not as much disgust than there is interest. He takes a few steps around you, getting a good look at every angle.

You shift from one leg to the other, uncomfortable with his blatant stalking. “I don’t understand how this is going to help.”

Jake stands from his place at the desk and walks closer to you. Granted, he’s not the tallest man, but you find yourself shrinking from his aura. A presence that demands attention, respect. His ringed fingers grab a hold of your chin so you look him in the eyes. “You don’t know how to listen, but I think we can fix that. All you need is some discipline. If you wanna stay enrolled, I suggest you behave for us starting now.”

You’re too stunned to say anything. No words can form even when Heesung places his hand on your lower back. He applies pressure until you arch, the skirt inevitably exposing your panties for him to see.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he tuts. “I don’t understand how you expect me to act professional with you when you dress like this.” Heesung uses his other hand to reach down, cupping your clothed mound with no warning.

The warmth of his hand makes you gasp and Jake takes the opportunity to slip his thumb in your mouth. It’s not supposed to work on you, but it manages to turn your whimpers into mewls instead as you softly suck on it. The pad of his finger presses onto your tongue and you dutifully open your throat so he can shove it deeper.

Jake can’t help but smile, one side of his lips slightly turned more upwards than the other when he looks at you. All it takes is Heesung to apply more pressure to your cunt to make you suck harder. He can feel his cock hardening in his slacks, the blood leaving his head to rush to his groin instead.

Perhaps he’ll be able to blame his terrible decisions on that fact.

You whine when Heesung pulls away from you, placing his hands on either side of your hips to guide you closer to the dean’s desk. It’s all too quick when you find yourself bent over the wooden table, legs kicked open so your thighs are apart, and your hands bound by Jake’s grip.

“It truly is a shame we have to do it like this,” he sighs, though it hardly sounds regretful in the slightest. “But we just can’t trust you’ll be good for us, not yet anyway.”

Being restrained makes you twist and turn, trying to escape from the men who have you pinned down. Your stomach squeezes with fear, but you’re starting to think a different, more intense emotion, slithers its way to your core. “W-wait,” you turn your head in an attempt to look at them. “You can’t do this. I’ll get you fired. I’ll tell.”

“Oh no!” Heesung mocks fear in his voice. “Did you hear that, Jake? She’s gotta tattletale on us!” He laughs wholeheartedly, making sure to keep your thighs pried open no matter how much you try and push them together. “Even if you do, who do you think they’ll believe?”

His finger trails up your slit, prodding your entrance before sliding back down to your clothed clit. You jolt so violently that you lurch forward and whine. Heesung and Jake chuckle at your reactions, lifting your skirt over your ass so it’s only your panties in the way.

“Good, slut,” Heesung coos. “No talking back this time. See? You can behave.”

The only reason you’re not saying anything is because you’re scared that you’ll moan. There’s no way in hell you’d let them know that you’re feeling even the smallest amount of pleasure. No matter how wet your underwear grows, no matter how hard you bite your lower lip, your pride is too strong to succumb to their touch.

But you want to, so bad you do. Maybe they can already tell that you’re becoming more and more pliant for them since Jake only has to use one hand to bind your wrists. Both of the men have their fingers at your pussy: swirling, pinching, and rubbing your cunt until you instinctively grind back on them.

Jake does the honors of hooking a finger to the side of your underwear, finally revealing the source of arousal. You squeal, wiggling to cover yourself but to no avail. It’s near impossible to hide your soaked pussy, lips fat and wet from how disgustingly good they were making you feel.

“Damn,” Heesung breathes. “Must’ve been hard to pretend to hate it, huh?”

You snarl at him, teeth clenched and eyes ignited. “I hate you.”

Heesung smiles, “Seems like your pussy here doesn’t.” He pushes the tip of his finger on your nub, flicking it back and forth. Heesung laughs when your breath gets caught in your throat and all you can do is let out a high-pitched moan from his touch. “Fuck, it’s so wet.”

Jake focuses his digits near your entrance, dipping just the tips of his fingers in to watch your hole clench in anticipation. “More than wet, it’s sobbing to be filled.” He groans when your cunt tries to swallow his fingers. “I don’t even think you need to finger her. You can just put it straight in.”

Wait. That’s not what you want to happen. Your fight or flight should kick in, you should try to scream or kick, but you don’t. Getting away is the last thing your body wants to do. All its attention is on finishing as fast and as pleasurable as possible. So what if they’re older than you? Have authority over you? They can make you feel good, even if it’s at the cost of your dignity.

It’s as if Heesung can hear your inner turmoil, and of course, he has to add fuel to the fire. “You heard that, slut? Sounds like you really do like me. Go ahead and tell me how much you want it and I’ll fuck you real nice.”

Jake, despite being the one to say that fingering you would hardly make a difference, begins to push his digits deeper inside. Two of them slowly, but agonizingly open you up. As much as you hate that they're the ones doing it, your cunt is grateful for having something to finally clench down on. Still, your will is stronger than your desire. “F-fuck no.”

But deep down you know and they know. It’s how your curses turn into mewls. How you’ve begun to rock your hips back and forth to match the pace of Jake’s thrusting fingers. The men can see the pretty, white cream coating his digits. The sight makes Heesung groan, “Can’t you behave? Just look at it. You’re begging for this, slut.” Without being told to, Jake slips his finger from your hole. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, mouth agape as you silently whine. You’re too busy mourning the lack of fingers before you feel them prod your lips.

Jake reaches around and easily slips his fingers in your mouth. It’s an immediate reaction when your tongue swirls around them, tasting your arousal and gulping it down.

“Fuck. I hope you suck cock like that.” Jake grunts when he presses the pad of his fingers on your tongue. You bite on them, but it comes off more playful than painful. The taste of yourself is overwhelming and you can’t even notice how they’ve begun to position themselves with one in front of your face with the other staying behind.

A different, slightly smaller pair of hands pin you this time. You finally recognize Jake as being the one in front of you while Heesung rubs against the curve of your ass. He’s bare, you figure, from the waist down with his cock guiding up and down. You whimper and you’re comforted by Jake pushing the hair from your face to reveal your pretty, stained lips.

“You have sucked someone off before, right?” Jake tilts his head and lets his thumb run across your bottom lip. You don’t answer, both too stunned by the inevitable outcome and how Heesung has angled his cock slightly lower so it catches your clit instead. It’s the man behind that answers for you, “Course she has. You seen the mouth on this slut? All that talking she does is just ‘cuz there’s nothing to shut her up.”

When you feel a flush in your face, you know it’s from anger. “Oh, fuck you. The only way you’re able to get laid is by - hngh!” Heesung isn’t slow when he puts it in. His rough entrance cuts you off mid-sentence. You only feel his tip widening you for a second before the rest of his length slides into you.

Now you understand why Jake stretched you open despite everything. He must know how Heesung is, he must know because of how often they do this. It all begins to fall into place now that you’re bent over, skirt flipped up with a cock in your cunt and one soon to be in your mouth. Your behavior did not warrant a meeting with the dean, let alone one-on-one. This must have been their plan. To abuse their power on a whore of a student like you so that if word ever did get out, it would be easier to write it up as a girl who simply didn’t like her professor.

Not the most perfect plan, but you hardly care to focus on the cracks when you're being jolted forward and rocked against the desk. Jake takes the opportunity to shove himself inside your moaning mouth. Your tongue goes on the underside of his cock, throat expanding so he can fuck himself deeper while Heesung does the same inside your cunt.

It’s so that it can be bearable, you tell yourself. Not because you like the feeling of them filing you.

“Shit, see?” Heesung moans and squeezes your wrists. “She just needs something to shut. her. up.” Each word is enunciated with a thrust. Heesung makes sure the sound of your bodies echo in the office. You squeal around gag around Jake's cock, neck straining from keeping your head lifted.

Jake grips the hair from the top of your head to start fucking you at a rhythm. His hips rock upwards so his tip touches the back part of the roof of your mouth. “Her throats’ squeezing me like a pussy. Fuck! You caught a good one, Hee.”

Heesung laughs, but it sounds dark. Drool seeps from the corner of your lips from the stimulation. The edge of the table only slightly rubs on your clit when Heesung rocks into you. Just barely touching your nub to make you clench and gush around his cock. You try to get on your tippy toes so you can feel him deeper inside, but Heesung is set on having you nearly flushed against the desk save for Jake’s grip forcing your chest upwards.

“I’d hardly say she’s good,” Heesung argues. “She was giving us such a hard time. Making us play with her pussy just to make sure she was wet enough. Isn’t that right, slut?”

You muffle against Jake’s dick. Neither of them make a move to properly understand what you said, both caught in the pleasure you’re giving them. Still, Heesung continues. “Ah, now I get it. You were just playing hard to get. Calling me names and acting like you’re above this when all you wanted was to be bent like this.” He’s pumping into you harder, messier. You don't even have the coordination to suck properly on Jake’s cock anymore. Not that he minds, it seems. He uses your mouth like a fleshlight, careful not to hit so deep that your gag reflex forces him out.

You can wiggle your hands though. A final act of retaliation to let Heesung know that he’s wrong. He sees it, to your surprise, and he laughs at your futile ministrations. “I kind of like it when you keep fighting back. It’ll make everything so much more fun when you cum on the dick you hate.”

You don't want to cum, you don’t even want to think about it. Yet, the taste of your orgasm travels in your stomach. You swear you can feel the head of Heesung’s cock touching it, the tip of Jake’s prodding it from your throat. All you need is that final push, a last magical touch to make you tip over. Strangely, you wish for the feeling of being on the edge to never stop. So this moment of twisted humiliation and pleasure lasts for a lifetime.

That doesn’t happen though. Not when Heesung untangles one of his hands to play with the flesh of your pussy. His nimble fingers blindly travel up until they find your clit. It only takes a couple of rubs, a few harsh pinches that make you whine on Jake's dick before you flood his cock. The consistent moans vibrate the cock in your mouth and Jake doesn’t last any longer when he feels them.

“Oh fuck. I’m cumming. I'm cumming. I’m cumming.” Both of his hands grab ahold of your face as he buries his cock deep. You sputter and gag around him, being force-fed his load that shoots down your throat. It doesn’t help that Heesung keeps fucking into you to reach his high. It makes Jake’s cock bury itself deeper inch by inch. Your eyes water, saliva and cum drip down your chin onto the desk, but Jake is content with milking himself dry in your mouth and then some.

Finally, Heesung groans. He adjusts his stance so he can fuck harder into you. His fingers rub painfully fast on your clit and you're crying for him to slow down. The overstimulation nearly makes you want to claw your own skin before he finishes. Hot streaks of cum enter your pussy, the entrance of your womb. You pulse around him, and he pulses inside of you.

Your hips wiggle to get his fingers off your clit, and they listen to adjust on your ass instead. Jake slowly slips his softening cock from your lips, moaning when your head thuds on the table and you gasp for air. He shoves his cock back into his slacks, wiping the sweat from his forehead when he’s done.

Then Heesung slips out of you, pulling one of your cheeks apart to watch his and your cream leak from your gaping pussy. Your hole pushes out the cum and he shoves it back in with his finger. “Mmm,” he hums. “It looks so good like this.”

When Heesung releases you from his grip you don’t dash for the door. You don’t turn around and slap him; the thought doesn't even cross your mind. Your legs turn into jelly, falling on the floor disgracefully. You can’t even imagine how you look, cum dripping down your thighs and chin as you catch your breath. Still, Heesung smiles down at you, though you know it’s far from endearing.

“See, slut? It’s not that hard to listen, now is it.”

#smut #enha smut #enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enha jake #enha heesung #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #lee heesung smut #jake enhypen #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake #jake sim

2K notes · View notes

callie-the-creator · 10 months

Text

sfw. warnings: obsessive behavior, slight stalking, jealousy, saiki uses his powers for selfish reasons, etc.

author’s note: oh, don’t mind me, just writing some headcanons if saiki was ever a yandere.

• you and saiki first met in chūgakkō, junior high, but he didn’t fall in love with you until a few years later when you two were already in pk academy. maybe it’s all the accidentally bumping into him, dropping your papers and saiki being the one to help you pick them up, making awkward eye contact in class, hanging out with one another outside of school, or touching on the same snack you both are aiming for at either the vending machine or at the store... all the things somehow have you involved these recent days and saiki is less than impressed at first

• saiki has always stated time and time again that he personally does not think he will not fall in love, so he always watches others who are in love and help them if he can, but here he is…completely captivated by you of all people. he didn’t know why though, was the author just really that bored?

• good grief

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦

• let it be known that he does possess the power to alter your perception of him. saiki could always just make you fall in love with him just like that…but…what’s the fun in that? no, no, he wouldn’t dream of doing that to you

— however, since saiki was born with the uncontrollable ability to read the minds of all living creatures in a multiple-mile radius…he can read your mind, he knows all of your favorite things, what you dislike, your hobbies, and your address. he didn’t mean to at first, but he did find your thoughts and imagination fascinating. he even finds himself listening to you during class like you’re his favorite podcast

• saiki is crazily protective over you.

— there was a time where you nearly got mugged! and when i say ‘nearly’, well, let’s just say you should be grateful saiki was there to protect you. can’t you see that he’ll always be here for you in a time of need? he’ll keep you safe, but only if you see that for yourself…

• saiki doesn’t think he’s the jealous type, but he will stop any other man who has a crush on you by any means necessary by either relentlessly embarrassing them for the rest of the day or wiping you from their memory because only saiki can have you. no one else. he doesn’t care how many people he has to make forget you to become your boyfriend

• what’s that? you wish it was a sunny day in japan instead of a rainy one? don’t you worry about a thing! saiki will handle that for you!

• stalking you is almost child’s play to saiki since he has so many powers to ensure you don’t spot him — shapeshifting, teleportation, you name it! but this is a good thing because you don’t have to worry about him being an aggressive type of yandere

— if he is following behind you when you’re walking home, i do think saiki would change to his female self, so you would be less scared

• once the author made you bring coffee jelly to school and willingly give it up to saiki after seeing him light up at the sight of it, saiki knew that he just had to marry you

• he could, quite literally, turn the world upside down for you if it meant that you’ll be with him.

5K notes · View notes

crdteezv · 11 days

Text

Privacy - Haechan

Paring: !childhood friends/best friend’s brother/roommates to lovers !! haechan x afab! reader

Genre: non-idol! au, smut

Synopsis: You've been struggling with money ever since you lost your job. You even got kicked out of your apartment, so you asked your best friend if you could stay with her for a bit. However, with her being out of town, she insists that you stay with her older brother, Haechan. The two of you were inseparable as kids, but it's been years since you last saw him. Now, living under the same roof, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to resist the perverted fantasies you’ve slowly begun to develop about him…

Warnings: smut. !teasing/hard dom! haechan, perv reader, he is slightly a perv too but it’s mainly the reader, reader loves the smell of his cologne for some reason…, the reader humps his what???, reader takes videos/pictures of him, invasion of privacy, dirty talk, HEAVY HUMILIATION, teasing, praise/degradation, voyeurism, light nipple play, mirror sex, use of sex toys, kissing, fingering, oral (giving), facefucking, manhandling, lots of hair pulling, masochism, light spanking, edging, overstimulation, cockwarming, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.6k words

A/N: Y’all just have to hear me out on this one… I’ve had this idea for over a year now and just didn’t know who I wanted to write it for, but now inspiration struck and I finally wrote it!! I have rarely seen any fics like this before with the reader being a perv, so I wanted to try it out. I did get a little carried away with this, so understand that this isn’t for everyone. So, If you don’t like it, don’t read it. I hope you guys enjoy! Also, I plan on writing a bonus drabble related to this soon! Whenever I do, I’ll make sure to add it here!!

You lost your job and now can't afford your apartment's rent. You used to have a steady office position that covered your expenses, but the company went bankrupt and had to lay off all its employees. You've been trying to find a new one for weeks, but with bills piling up, you had no choice but to move out of your place.

“Aw, I’m sorry they’re kicking you out of your apartment. That’s so unfair. Can’t you ask them to extend the lease and promise to pay them back next month?” your best friend asked you over the phone.

“I already did, but it’s been two months, and they can’t extend it any longer.”

“Damn, well, I’d say you could stay with me, but I’m going to be out of town for the whole month. Hey, maybe you can stay with Haechan!”

At first, you didn’t know what to say. You’ve always had a secret crush on her older brother, Haechan, but you never told her, for obvious reasons. You basically grew up with both of them, and you didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship the three of you shared. Haechan used to tease you all the time, and you used to hate him for it. As you got older, you got used to it. You can’t even remember when you started developing feelings for him, but you knew you were head over heels.

“I don’t know… I haven’t seen him since college, and now you want me to just live with him?”

“Oh, please, you’ll be fine! Besides, he’ll be more than happy to help you out since you’re going through a rough time right now.”

She had a point. He’s always been a good guy, and he wouldn’t say no, especially since you don’t have a place to live at the moment.

“You’re right. I just didn’t want to be a burden, you know?”

“You worry too much! I’m going to let him know you’ll be staying with him. He’ll probably call you after I talk to him, so heads up!”

“Okay, and thank you so much for this. I really appreciate it!”

She was pleased and hung up to call Haechan. You hadn’t spoken to him in years, and you started to realize what was about to happen. You were about to live with your best friend's brother, who also happened to be your childhood crush.

Your stomach churned with instant stress and nervousness. You started to panic, wondering what to say when he called and whether you might come off as annoying. You always overthink things when it comes to him. You began pacing back and forth in your now-empty apartment, waiting for his call. You had already put all your important belongings and furniture in a storage unit until you could find a new place.

Your phone rang, and you saw it was Haechan. You answered nervously.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey you, it’s been a while, huh?”

His voice sounded just like you remembered—soft-spoken and gentle.

“Yeah, it has! How have you—”

“We haven’t seen each other in years, and all of a sudden, you want to live with me. Don’t you think we’re moving a little too fast?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, knowing that he was only saying that to tease you.

"Oh, shut up. You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to. I would’ve stayed with your sister, but you know what happened with that."

You heard him let out a sigh and stretch his body in the process.

"Yeah, every year she goes on these exotic trips with her boyfriend and goes MIA for a month. I was shocked that she even called me."

"Damn, she still calls me whenever she goes on her trips."

"Whatever. Anyway, I’m sorry to hear what happened with your job. You’re more than welcome to stay with me until you can get back on your feet and support yourself again."

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were going to leave me hanging for a second."

He let out a laugh and said, "What? No, I would never do that. What makes you think I would?"

"I don’t know. It’s just... we haven’t spoken or seen each other since college, and now here I am, begging you to let me stay with you."

He laughed again. You always loved the way he laughed—so carefree and happy. It gave you so much comfort.

"Ah, you’re killing me here. I’ve always loved how funny you are. Now, I’m on my way to you. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up."

"Dude, it’s almost midnight. Aren’t you tired?"

"Yeah, but your lease technically ends today, right? They’re going to be knocking at your door to leave anyway, so you might as well move in tonight."

He made a fair point. It would be best if you left now. You already had all your clothes and personal items with you, so you could just leave tonight if you wanted.

"Alright, come pick me up. I’m basically packed already!"

"Great! I’ll leave my place now. See you soon!"

You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone. You started to feel nervous about seeing Haechan after all this time. You realized all you were wearing was a loose tank top and some joggers, but you were too tired to even bother changing into something else.

20 minutes later...

You heard a knock at the door, and lo and behold, it was Haechan. He still looked the same, except he was a little taller than the last time you saw him. He wore a black hoodie with a baseball cap and sweatpants.

He looked so attractive.

Even now, in something as simple as a hoodie, you instantly felt yourself go insane seeing him like this. You noticed the sleepiness in his eyes—he had definitely lied earlier about not being tired. He just didn’t want you to feel bad for him.

You greeted each other with a simple hug, and as you did, you caught a whiff of his cologne. It had a warm, sweet, and woody scent with hints of spice and musk that lingered in the air. You wanted to hold onto him longer, but of course, you couldn’t.

As you let go, he asked what he could do to help. You told him to grab the box of miscellaneous items while you carried your clothes. You both made your way to his car, packed everything in, and after bringing down the last of your things, you climbed into the passenger seat. Every now and then, you glanced over at him, watching him drive. He looked so attractive doing something as simple as that.

You found everything he did attractive—even something as mundane as driving. The way he kept one hand on the steering wheel while leaning back in his seat made you press your thighs together. You wished, at this moment, that you could—

“Do you plan on staring at me the whole drive or what?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, realizing you'd been staring at him for a while.

“Oh, I’m sorry, just daydreaming is all.”

“Uh-huh... Anyways, we’re here now. I’m too tired to carry all your stuff up, so just grab what you need for tonight.”

You agreed, feeling sleepy yourself. You grabbed your night essentials and followed him up to his apartment. The space was sleek and minimal, with little to no decoration. He liked to keep things simple. He led you to the room where you'd be staying for the time being.

“This is where you’ll be staying. My best friend used to live here, but he moved in with his girlfriend, so it’s been empty since. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You nodded, watching him leave before you got settled and began getting ready for bed. You left your tank top on and changed into pajama pants. After brushing your teeth, you returned to bed, only to realize how cold the room was. The one blanket he gave you wasn’t nearly enough.

You knew you couldn’t sleep through the night—it was just too cold. So, you knocked at his door. Haechan was sitting at his desktop, playing videos, but paused to look at you.

“What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you, but the room is really cold, and the blanket you gave me isn’t enough. I was wondering if you had something else. I thought I brought my sweatshirt, but I couldn't find it.”

“Ah, I don’t think so... here, just take my hoodie for now—”

“No, I can’t. You’ll be cold for the night—”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’m used to it. My heater doesn’t work, and I was supposed to get it fixed this week, so I apologize for that.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I guess I’ll take your hoodie, but I’ll give it back as soon as I find mine.”

He agreed, standing up from his gaming chair to take off his hoodie. As he pulled it over his head, his shirt underneath rode up slightly, revealing a glimpse of his waist—and a newly grown happy trail.

It took everything in you not to lose your mind at that moment, but you managed to keep your fantasies in check. He handed you the hoodie, and you left his room, putting it on as you walked back to your temporary space.

As you lay down, the smell of his cologne clung to the fabric, distracting you. You couldn’t stop thinking about when he first picked you up—how you hugged, your bodies pressed together, and how you didn’t want to let go.

Feeling lightheaded from the thought, you pushed it aside. That was a worry for another day. For now, it was time to sleep. And tonight, you slept peacefully...

♡♡♡♡♡♡

As time passed, you and Haechan grew even closer. You noticed he had become more comfortable around you. At first, when you both sat in the living room, he kept his distance out of respect, but now, you were always near each other.

He had grown so comfortable that sometimes he’d walk around the house without a shirt on. It drove you mad when he did that—you could barely look him in the eye anymore because of it.

He walked out of his room wearing only black professional slacks and dress shoes, completely shirtless. He held two different dress shirts in his hand and asked for your opinion.

“Hey, I have that big interview today and I can’t decide whether to wear the black or white shirt. Which one do you think would be better?”

You were so captivated by his features that you couldn't even focus on what he was saying to you.

“Um, hello? Is there anyone in that pretty head of yours?”

You jumped at his compliment, feeling heated with embarrassment. He let out a slight chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What was the question?” you asked, your voice tinged with nervousness.

“God, what am I going to do with you? I asked which shirt looks better for the interview.”

“I think the black one looks nice.”

He nodded and went back to his room to get dressed and prepare to leave. You felt flustered by the affection he’d been showing you lately. He had started using various nicknames for you like "love," "darling," and "pretty," and it was becoming overwhelming.

Being in a confined space with him all the time has made it worse. It’s so bad to the point where now whenever you masturbate you can only get off to the thought of him touching you. It’s a recurring thought that crosses your mind. This all started one day when you came home early from job hunting and wanted to hang out with Haechan. As you were approaching his room, you heard some noises coming from it.

Curious, you realized the sounds were his moans. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see him through the crack. His head was thrown back against the pillow, eyes closed, lost in pleasure. You were stunned and felt a wave of arousal. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop watching him. You told yourself to walk away, reminding yourself that watching him like this was a serious invasion of his privacy.

But this whole situation made you even more wet.

You wanted to touch yourself while he did, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself together. So you know what you do instead?

You recorded him on your phone to have this to look back on later. You felt so gross and guilty for even doing this, but everything happened too quickly, and you couldn't resist. He looked so good, and you didn’t want to forget any of it. As he neared climax, you weren’t sure how much time you had before he noticed you, but fortunately, he didn't. He finished, spilling over his hands and sheets.

You quickly stopped recording and quietly made your way back to your room, trying to act as if nothing had happened. You stayed hidden until you saw him leave for his evening walk. As soon as he was out of the apartment, you immediately went to touch yourself with the video you had just taken of him.

Ever since then, you could only get off by thinking of Haechan. No one else could come to mind. You couldn’t explain this insatiable desire you had for him, and it just kept getting worse. Sometimes, when he wasn’t looking, you’d sneak a picture or two of him while he was changing. You used those to get yourself off, too.

You had started to become such a pervert for him, and you hadn’t even realized it.

Fast forward to now. As he leaves the apartment for his interview, you finally have some much-needed alone time. He recently had to quit his old job to find a new one, and he’s been home all the time. It’s nice and all, but you haven’t been able to masturbate in forever. It’s the first time in a while that you’ve been able to cum. You knew today was going to be the day.

You do what you usually do: go into your room and use your vibrator. Before you lay down on your bed, you notice you left Haechan’s hoodie, which he lent you when you moved here. You place your sex toys on the bed and go to grab his hoodie. You don’t know what possessed you, but you begin to press it against your face and realize you can still smell his cologne.

You start to think back to how he would walk around the house with that cologne. You couldn’t stop smelling it and thinking about him being with you right now. You wished he would wrap his arms around you and pull you close. You lay back down on your bed and start to touch yourself, pulling your panties to the side and rubbing against your clit while keeping his hoodie pressed against your face.

You don’t know why you lose all self-control when it comes to him. You felt like you wanted more, and just his hoodie wouldn’t be enough. Then you came up with one of the most perverted ideas yet.

To go jerk off in his bed instead.

His room would be the perfect place, as it would automatically smell like him. You felt disgusted for even thinking about it, but you did it anyway. It wouldn’t take long for you to finish at the rate you were going. You grabbed all your stuff and headed straight to his room. You immediately started to feel light-headed from the strong cologne in his room. It made sense since he had been there not too long ago.

You jumped into his bed, and even the sheets smelled like him. You placed your vibrator on his bedside table, waiting to use it when the moment was right. You went back to touching yourself, throwing your head back in pleasure. You felt a sense of bliss just being in his room. You knew you shouldn’t be there, and he would probably kick you out if he found you touching yourself in his bed. But you were at the point where you didn’t care; you were just chasing your orgasm. You started thinking about that one time you caught him touching himself in this exact bed that you were now using for yourself.

You came up with another idea.

You quickly grabbed your phone and started playing the video you recorded of him jerking off. You only use it for yourself on special occasions, and this was one of them. Lost in your own pleasure, you closed your eyes and listened to his moans. You imagined him right next to you, touching himself with you. You grabbed your vibrator from his bedside table and turned it on. Pulling your panties to the side, you pressed it against your clit.

You moaned out loud, the sound almost like a scream. Tears started to form in your eyes as you threw your head back with pleasure. You felt so alive and didn’t even care about the consequences. You even moaned his name, unable to stop yourself.

You had come to accept that you were indeed a pervert for him…

So deep in your sinful endeavors, you failed to notice that Haechan was watching you with his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe.

“It was only a matter of time before I caught you doing something like this,” he said.

You immediately stopped what you were doing and were too stunned to move. All you could do was turn off your vibrator and look at him. Words couldn’t even describe how humiliating this was for you.

Being seen in his room made everything so much worse.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account, love. You seem to be really enjoying yourself in my bed of all places.”

You wanted to die in that moment. You had never felt so ashamed in your life.

“It’s not what it looks like—”

“Oh, don’t start with that shit.”

He walked over to you, and you tried to close your legs. But he stopped you with his knee and grasped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“These walls aren’t that thick, darling, and I can hear you every time you touch that pretty cunt of yours.”

He started to slowly place his fingertips against your clit. You instantly began to melt and whimper at his touch.

“Every time you do it, I always hear you moan and beg for me to touch you.”

He inserts a finger into your squelching pussy and rubs his thumb against your clit, maintaining a slow but steady pace. The look on his face sends shivers down your spine. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him, especially with the state he has you in right now.

“Don’t even get me started on the night you watched me jerk off. God, sweetheart, have you ever heard of the word “privacy��?”

You didn’t realize your phone was still beside you, with the video paused on the screen. Hoping he doesn’t notice, you try to slide your hand towards it and push it under the pillow beside you. However, he beats you to it. With his other hand, he grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching for your phone. He then grabs your phone and sees that you recorded him.

“You even fucking recorded me. God, you’re so pathetic.”

You feel yourself tighten at his degrading words, and he notices.

“Aww, you like the way I’m talking to you. Did you use this video of me to jerk off just now?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit it out loud, so all you can do is nod your head. He kneels to face you and makes direct eye contact. With a low, sultry tone, he says:

“You really are such a little pervert for me, huh?”

You don’t know why, but when he calls you that, you instantly want to cum right then and there. You’re shocked that he’s even giving in to your perversion. You let out a moan and instantly regret it because he starts to laugh at you.

“Wow, you must really like it when I call you that. I won’t give you what you want, though, so you’re going to have to earn it.”

You hate how much he’s enjoying this right now. You decide enough is enough and speak up.

“W-why are you doing this? Aren’t you going to kick me out?”

He lets out a smirk, grabs your chin once more, and says:

“Why would I do that when I’m just starting to have so much fun with you?”

The way he says it is genuine, and he doesn’t want to stop any of this. You can’t believe that this is real and not one of the fantasies you dream about.

You bite your lip at his comment and can’t even think of a response.

“Now it’s time for you to pay for all the things you did behind my back. I want you to get on your knees for me.”

You were a little taken aback by his forwardness and didn’t know how to react. He positioned himself at the edge of the bed with his back facing you.

“I won’t repeat myself again. Get on your knees in front of me now.”

You quickly obeyed his demands, got onto the floor, and made your way towards him. You knelt in front of him, feeling intimidated. He was still wearing the dress shirt and pants from his interview, looking so attractive. He had left a few buttons undone at the top of his shirt, revealing a hint of his chest. You pressed your thighs together to try to compose yourself, but he was only turning you on. Unable to meet his gaze, you looked down at the floor. He then grabbed your jaw with his hand aggressively and forced you to look at him.

“You better keep your eyes on me the whole time if you know what’s good for you.”

His tone was scary and harsh. You kept your eyes locked on him as he released his grip on your jaw.

“I want you to take off your shirt.”

You felt a little flustered by his sudden demand, but the way he was looking at you sent goosebumps all over your body, and you didn’t want to upset him. You lifted your shirt, standing there half-naked in front of him, with nothing on but your panties.

“Of course, you're not wearing a bra.”

With one hand, he groped your tits, twisting the nipple of the other. You let out a loud whimper in response.

“Who would’ve known I’ve been living with such a slut this whole time?”

You threw your head back in bliss, loving the way he was touching you.

“You think I haven’t noticed you walking around the house with no bra, your nipples showing through those tight tank tops you always wear? If you ask me, it’s like you’re begging for this to happen, love.”

He squeezed your boob harder, and all you could do was moan. You had to admit, you stopped wearing a bra at home, hoping he’d notice you.

“It’s embarrassing to see you trying so hard to get my attention.” His cold, harsh words only heightened your arousal.

He eventually stopped, then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. You could see the bulge in his boxers. When he took out his cock, it slapped directly onto your face, making you flinch.

“Oh, sorry about that, sweetie. I guess I got a bit carried away.”

You told him it was fine and that you didn’t mind. You started to lick your lips and were about to use your hands to wrap around his dick, but he stopped you.

“Did I say that you could touch me? Remember, you have to earn it.”

He shoved his cock back into his boxers. You didn’t like how much he was teasing you, and you started to get irritated, but you were still glad that any of this was happening.

“So what do you want me to do for you then?”

“I want you to hump my shoe.”

There he goes, trying to humiliate you again. You were surprised by his request. You were already feeling embarrassed, and now he seemed to enjoy seeing you like this.

“I-I don’t think I can do—”

“Don’t get all shy on me now, darling. Just a second ago, you were spread open on my bed, ready to get off to me, and now here I am giving you what you want, and you want to back out. Maybe you’re not as much of a pervert as I thought you were.”

There goes that trigger word of yours.

You instantly felt your body heat up all over, and you decided to sit on his dress shoe. You began to hump against him back and forth, and Haechan couldn’t believe that you were actually doing this. At first, he was just teasing you to see how far you’d go for him, but he never expected to see you act like this because of him.

This was really stroking his ego, knowing that you were this obsessed with him. He started to rub the bulge forming in his boxers and kept eye contact with you the whole time.

You were humping yourself at a steady pace and didn’t want to get too carried away. The friction of your clit against him was driving you crazy. You couldn’t believe that you had fallen this hard for him. Just a month ago, you had an innocent little crush on him that had now turned into an unhealthy, perverted obsession.

You were enjoying every second of this.

You started to moan from how good you felt. He would lift his foot every once in a while just to mess with you, adding more to your stimulation. He had the biggest smirk on his face and enjoyed every second of this. You wrapped your arms around his leg for support. As your boobs pressed against him, he felt an intense urge to cum right then and there. It was getting harder for you to hold back, so you rested your head on his thigh as he gently patted your head.

“Mhm, you’re so pretty like this, love. Please don’t stop for me.”

This all felt like a dream to you.

You whimpered at his praise and continued to keep up the pace without stopping.

You saw him notice the mirror facing his bed and could tell he had an idea. He proceeded to grab his phone from his pocket and started to record you and your backside, which was facing the mirror.

He began to bounce his leg up and down, adding more to your stimulation. You threw your head back in pleasure and let out a sinful scream. You started to breathe heavily, and your vision was becoming blurry.

“Mhm, look at the camera for me, love. Show me how much of a slut you are.”

All this humiliation was really affecting you. The fact that he was recording you meant he would surely bring it up and tease you about it forever. You avoided looking at the camera and looked down.

Haechan didn’t like that.

With his free hand, he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look directly at his phone.

“Don’t act like you don’t like this. You were so eager just a second ago to do this, and now you can’t even look at me. It’s pathetic, really.”

You let out a low moan at his degrading words. He knows how much you love being treated like this. He pointed the camera at the mirror, revealing just how much you were enjoying this.

“God, I can’t wait to get off with this later.”

You start to tense up at his words, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. You don’t know how long you could last if he keeps talking about you in such a vulgar manner.

“Mhm, you’d love that, huh sweetheart? Me getting off just from the thought of you. You love all this attention I’m giving you. I bet you’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

All you could do was nod in response. Sensing that you were getting close, he didn’t want you to cum just yet. He stopped recording and said,

“Okay, I want you to stop now.”

You were so into it that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you. He was starting to get annoyed by how many times he had to call your name for you to stop what you were doing. Eventually, he had enough and yanked your hair, making you look up at him.

“Don’t you hear me telling you to stop?”

You snapped back into reality and realized that he was talking to you.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Still gripping your hair, he dragged you across the room and pressed you up against the wall, standing in front of you while you knelt on the floor. As you looked up at him, you began to feel even more intimidated than before. The angry and disgusted look on his face sent shivers down your spine.

“Don’t give me that excuse. You’re such a little slut and couldn’t help yourself. But remember, I’m the one allowing all of this and giving you permission.”

He released your hair and began to unzip his pants, letting his cock fall onto your face. He patronized you by lightly slapping your face with it.

“I could stop all this right now and leave you here—”

“P-please d-don’t do that… I need you so bad.”

He likes how desperate you were becoming for him, a huge smirk spreading across his face.

“Mhm, I love it when you beg for me. Now be a good girl and stay still.”

Confused about why he wanted you to stay still, you were suddenly surprised when he began to slowly push his pulsing cock down your throat. You tried to protest, but he simply said,

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full—”

He immediately shoved his entire length down your throat and threw his head back.

“It’s rude, love.”

He began to face-fuck you against the wall. Tears streamed down your face as you closed your eyes. He aggressively fucked your mouth, relishing the sensation of your throat wrapping around him so tightly.

You were about to reach down and touch yourself, but he quickly stopped you and pinned both of your hands above you. You felt trapped underneath him with nowhere to run or hide, though you didn’t want to escape anyway.

“This isn’t for your pleasure anymore. I’m doing this for my own.”

You moaned around him at his words, and he noticed.

“You love that I’m just using you now? You really are such a pervert.”

Your eyes began to roll back, reaching your breaking point. With so much happening, you felt yourself gasping for air, feeling like you were fading. As he neared climax, you tasted his pre-cum. Just before he came, he pulled out of your mouth. You coughed and heavily breathed, feeling even more lightheaded than before.

“Haechan, I don’t think I can do this—”

“Oh, I’m not done with you, pretty girl.”

He grabbed you by the hair and threw you onto his bed. Removing his shirt and the rest of his clothes, he made sure that both of you were facing the mirror. He pushed your face down and angled your ass into the air. Without hesitation, he shoved his dick into your aching pussy. You let out a moan that was practically a scream.

You looked directly into the mirror, seeing how rough he was being with you. He was starting to lose himself in you. He didn’t know what possessed him to fuck you like this, but he began to enjoy how amazing your pussy felt. You started to grip the sheets on his bed and said,

“P-please don’t stop, Hyuck.”

It was rare for you to call him that, but whenever you did, he absolutely loved it.

“Aww my little pervert starting to become more desperate for me-“

He let out a loud smack against your ass and you shriek in pleasure. He pulled on your hair and whispered into your ear

“You’re absolutely fucking gross for being turned on by this.”

You loved how all your fantasies about him were coming to life. You had always imagined him fucking you hard and deep into his mattress. In this blissful state, your eyes rolled back as your moans became more breathless and ragged. Driven by desire, you aggressively fucked yourself back onto his cock, moving so passionately that he fell back onto the bed, and you rode him.

You were in such a horny state that you couldn’t stop yourself. He wasn’t complaining about how needy you were; in fact, seeing you so desperate turned him on even more. The fact that he was witnessing this raw side of you made him want to come even harder.

“God, baby, you can slow down, you know… I’m going to cum if you keep going like this.”

“F-fuck, I can’t. I wanted this… I’ve wanted you for so long, and I-I can’t hold back anymore.”

His dick twitched in response, and you felt it. You let out a loud whimper and threw your head back. You leaned your back against his bare chest and grabbed your legs, pumping his cock vigorously inside your core. You were practically screaming, not caring if his neighbors heard your moans.

By the end of the night, everyone would know who you belonged to.

“Hyuck, I’m getting close—”

“Mhmm, is that so, baby?”

He swiftly changed positions, now pressing your back against the bed with him on top. He pulled out, and you whined in agony from the emptiness. He laughed, enjoying how needy you were for him.

“God, you’re so cute. I almost don’t want to go back inside.”

“P-please, Hyuck… I want to cum so bad.”

He glanced at the other side of the bed and noticed your vibrator still there. An idea struck him. As he slowly inserted his cock back inside you, he turned on the vibrator and placed it against your clit. You arched your back in pleasure, begging him to bury himself deeper inside you.

He complied, thrusting his cock back into your squelching pussy with relentless force. His strokes were hard and sloppy. He set the vibrator to a faster setting and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your cunt was so wet from the overstimulation that you began to make a mess all over him and the bedsheets. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the scent of his cologne. It reminded you of all the times you hugged him, and you didn’t want to let go.

He kissed and bit all over your neck, and you moaned out in sheer pleasure.

“F-fuck, keep doing that.”

You felt him smirk against your neck as he continued. He moved away from your neck and began to kiss you on the lips. Both of you closed your eyes, lost in the gratification you were giving each other. He realized he was hitting your sweet spot, and you started to yell out in ecstasy. He set the vibrator to the highest setting. Tears welled up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. Both of you were on the edge, unable to last much longer.

“Are you close, darling?”

You nodded in response.

He leaned down to your ear and whispered in a deep, husky tone, “Then come for me like the dirty little pervert you are.”

That was the breaking point for you. You moaned louder than ever that night and came incredibly hard on his cock. He followed suit, filling you up with ropes of his cum. He turned off your vibrator and, without pulling out, placed you on top of him once again and let you rest on his chest.

Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to calm down after everything that had happened. You were practically seeing stars, still in disbelief that this was real. He gently stroked your back and asked, “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, this was the hardest I’ve ever come. This is the best sex I’ve had in a very long time.”

You immediately regretted saying that, realizing it gave him a huge boost to his ego. He had the biggest smirk on his face.

“Oh really? I will admit I am pretty good, aren’t I? Especially the part when—”

“On second thought, I take it back. It was terrible.”

You both laughed, and he pretended to be offended. Even now, you could lighten up after everything that had transpired between you.

“You weren’t saying that when you were riding my dick.”

There he goes again, making you feel all embarrassed. You hated how much of a chokehold he had on you.

“Whatever.”

He lowered both of his hands to your hips and gripped them tightly.

“A thank you would be nice, you know?”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Fine, thank you. I’m surprised you still want to be my friend after this—”

“Friend?” He said with a distasteful tone, almost as if he were annoyed.

“Honey, after all that happened, I think we're past just being friends.”

Your face started to heat up as you wondered what he meant by that.

“So what are we then?”

“That, I don’t know. But I’m willing to explore and find out with you.”

“So you have feelings for me?”

“I mean, duh. My dick is deep inside you right now, and I don’t do that for just anybody, you know?”

Even in a heartfelt moment, he had to make everything so sexual. You started to wonder if you were the only pervert here.

“But in all seriousness, I’ve always liked you. I just didn’t want to tell you. Plus, my sister would freak out knowing I made a move on you.”

You completely forgot about your best friend.

“Eh, I’ll just tell her I confessed to you and you liked me back. What can she do then?”

You had a point. Besides, your best friend would trust Haechan to be a good boyfriend to you.

“You’re so right. Also, who would’ve known that you were secretly a little pervert for me this whole time,” he said with a condescending look on his face.

You shuddered at the word.

“Please don’t call me that… it’s embarrassing.”

He laughed at how flustered you were. He noticed he was still inside you and slowly pulled out. Both of your mixed fluids began to seep into his sheets, and he loved it. You rested your head on his chest again, and he patted your head like before.

“Aww, but I love calling you that. You look so adorable.”

“You’re evil, you know?”

“And you love it.”

You hated that he was right. You both spent the night cuddling and enjoying each other's comfort. Eventually, you got a job and decided to live with Haechan since you were now dating. You told his sister about the relationship, and she obviously supported it. You still couldn’t believe that he felt the same way about you after all this time.

Even after everything that has happened, you would always be a pervert when it came to him…

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