#so I’m going to take him with me when I move I think. as long as I can find someone to fix him first (I know it’s best to fix them always

[thepersonperson]

Why the hell is JJK 270 called Dream's End?

JJK 270 being titled Dream’s End is so fudging ominous. That’s some Umineko type beat. I’m not sure if I should even judge this chapter as presented because of this. In fact, I'm holding off on posting the other analysis I had for today since I no longer am certain of what JJK 268–270 are.

There's two lines of thought I have:

1) Gege suffering from burnout and bad working conditions plus rushing has caused the writing to decline.

2) Gege still has a hidden ace saved for the final chapter and the weird writing is deliberate.

I'm going to humor Option 2, but only because the title of this chapter is called Dream's End.

(The most 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Using TCB scans and leaks. Click images for captions/citations.)

[Small Update: Follow-up Discussion on why everyone feels OOC.]

Preface

"Without love it cannot be seen."

This is a phrase and philosophy I have borrowed from Umineko since I've started these JJK yapfests. It essentially boils down to 'discard your negative biases and try to examine things in good faith.'

JJK 268 & 269 have fudging tested that for me. I've been giving Gege and the characters a pretty hard time with the caveat of knowing how exploitative the manga industry is. I initially rejected the idea that these chapters were to be taken at anything other than face-value because of this. In fact, I cited the JJK 268 chapter title of Finale as a reason I've accepted things as is.

And with that same logic, I'm now doing the opposite... So hear me out! I've got some pretty good reasons to be doing this.

What's wrong with JJK 268–270?

There's a lot of things in these chapters that are fundamentally inconsistent with what's been established in throughout the manga. If we use Option 1 to explain these contradictions, these are last second retcons because Gege forgor.

Option 2? We're about to have the rug pulled the hell out from under us because the last 3 chapters have been delusions.

What first tipped me off to something possibly being wrong on purpose was the fate of the incarnated culling game players in JJK 270. Not too long ago it was established that the souls of non-sorcerers in vessels were unsavable.

The souls are suppressed in a way that distorts them permanently or their consciousness is outright destroyed. They were gambling on Megumi's survival due to him being a sorcerer and Sukuna's incarnation method being unique. 99% of them will die and those who survive will likely be vegetables, so why is there a sudden gamble on their survival in JJK 270?

It's such a neat and fine bow to tie this mess up that goes directly against existing lore. It's so ideal that it has me suspicious.

Brain damage from sorcery on non-sorcerers has been established as extremely taxing. I think about Gojo's Unlimited Void (UV) the most when it comes to this. Non-sorcerers were hit by it for 0.2 seconds and required medical intervention for 2 months to fully heal from it. Sukuna, the absolute strongest, tanked some of it and it affected him for the rest of the battle. ...And then we have Megumi who was under it for about 6 minutes and seems to have very little problems from it.

This is bizarre. Someone who underwent the month long bath and UV without Reverse Curse Technique (RCT) should be struggling to even stand after waking up. Sukuna had RCT and the Gojo brain damage still took him out. This screams of inconsistent writing unless...this is a deliberate hint that something is amiss.

I want to draw attention to the panel Megumi's UV damage is addressed. Just about everyone has been seemingly waiting around in the same spot for him to wake up. It's a bit weird given that sorcerers don't usually do that. They usually get a move on asap. And after the destruction of Shinjuku and the Culling Game Players still running about, why would they take a breather to discuss their plans that worked?

But that's not what started bothering me about that panel after reading JJK 270. It's that characters who aren't in the room, start appearing without warning. Look who is behind Maki and to the left. It's Kusakabe. And to her and Yuta's right? Inumaki. So why is it that Hakari, Kiara, and Ino are in Kusakabe's place while Todo spawns where Inumaki is? (And Yuta is facing the wrong direction too.)

That's pretty fudging weird right? You can chalk it up to Gege forgor but it doesn't stop there. Higuruma enters the discussion in a way that causes Yuji to pause.

Why is Yuji surprised to see him? (And where the fudge did he come from?) Shouldn't he know of his survival by now? And why is he in a cast? Higuruma had learned RCT and fully restored his arms before leaving the battlefield. If he's conscious, then he should be able to heal himself fully no problems.

And that got me thinking... Why is Yuji still missing his fingers?

It was established that he kept his fingers unhealed to help with Yuta's plan. This means that if he won, he has no need to keep them missing. Yuji has fully regenerated missing chunks of his face, including his eye, and stomach. He has RCT just like Higuruma. But it doesn't end there either. Yuji's number of fingers on his left hand keeps changing.

4 fingers, 3 fingers, dubious amount of fingers, 5 fingers. Once again, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but JJK 270 came out and the same problem started happening with Megumi's scars.

The same mistake is made within the same set of panels and very big page. That's weird.

ONCE AGAIN, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but when these errors occur, like with Yuta mistakenly having his ring on in JJK 251, Gege will note the mistake outright. Gege has made no such comments for Yuji's fingers or the scars. This many “errors” in row when Gege has otherwise been careful with these features could indicate it really is on purpose. (Kind of like Sukuna's everchanging mask. The thing was just moving around and pulsing. That was deliberate not inconsistency.)

What does this mean?

I think it means what we are seeing isn't reality. After all, the most common way to tell if you're dreaming is being unable to count the number of fingers on your hands. Another way to tell is the distortion of faces.

Readers have noticed that something is wrong. The weird timeskips, the lack of lasting consequences, design inconsistencies, characters behaving like similes of themselves, death and pain being glossed over like it's nothing. It all feels so off. But it's still close enough to the original to be somewhat believable. ...Is that not what it's like to dream and not know you are dreaming?

Why is it that the chapter titled Dream's End ends with the hunt for a curse user whose ability is to distort the perception of reality?

Dreams and Delusions in JJK

We already know Gege weaves Buddhist symbolism and ideas heavily into JJK. I'm not an expert in Buddhism at all, so there's a lot of it that goes over my head. I decided to look into if dreams are significant in Buddhism and boy howdy are they. Quoted directly from the source:

"Dreams can be a message from a Bodhisattva, an ancestor, or a god, The intent of the dream may be to test the dreamer’s resolve: is he non-retreating (avaivartika) from Bodhi (enlightenment) even when sleeping? The purpose of the dream visit may be to communicate information vital to the dreamer’s well-being. The Buddha himself had five dreams of catastrophes, falling stars and worlds in collision just before his enlightenment. The dreams were sent to him not by a benevolent Dharma-protector, but by an malevolent sorcerer, intent on disrupting the Buddha’s samadhi and preventing his awakening."

In summary, (correct me if I'm wrong) dreams appear to be seen as another state of being just as valuable and impermanent as reality.

There's also this other bit I'll quote directly.

"The most common use of dreams in the literature of the Mahayana, or “Northern School” of Buddhism in China, Tibet, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam is to see dreams as a simile for sunyata, (emptiness) the hollow core at the heart of all component dharmas (things). For example, in the well-known Vajra (Diamond) Sutra, the Buddha taught that:

“All conditioned dharmas, are like a dream, like an illusion, like a bubble, like a shadow, like a dewdrop, like a lightening flash; you should contemplate them thus.”"

That's starting to sound like what Yuji's Domain does, right? He projects memories that did happen and mixes them with delusions and dreams. Sukuna and Megumi both experience this in full.

It's incredibly suspicious that it hasn't been named yet. Yuji is the son of Kenjaku who has a domain based on the Womb Sutra/Realm...which is paired with the aforementioned Diamond Realm to encompass the entire Dharma. It's very likely this is what Yuji's domain is—a realm of dreams and reality combined as one.

Unreality Runs in the Family

When Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" as the Culling Games begin, Kenjaku explains her situation with this:

What follows is a sequence that cannot be described as a dream. It seems to be a blend of reality and hallucinations. But that's not anything strange, Sukuna does it too with Kashimo in reverse.

As you can see, both the positions of the characters and even the backgrounds change suddenly from reality to ??? and from sequence to sequence. It's all incredibly dream like.

Another strange thing about this space is Kenjaku creating it as a part of an escape route Binding Vow. You know, the kind Sukuna uses for Malevolent Shrine.

What I want to draw attention to here is this reality-dream state somewhat requires consent (in the loosest possible definition) to appear. The person entering this state has to desire it themself. We see this with Jogo and Gojo who are mutually interested in having a relationship of somekind with Sukuna. (Same with Kashimo.)

(It's also very hard to tell if they are dead or still in the process of dying during this.)

This is where the delusions Yuji projects differ. They are forced onto others when he is near death or severely injured, seemingly as a defense mechanism.

And would you look at that...the syntax is identical for Todo and Choso's Brother Yuji Delusions. "At that moment, a memory was born inside X's brain...of a past event that never happened." It's kind of like how Yuji replaces Gojo in Megumi's memory to reach him. It's also very strange that Sukuna, Choso, and Jogo go "What is this?" to this in-between space.

My point here is that Yuji having access to this space has been hinted at since the start of this manga and that it was inherited it by blood. (Totally Not Kenjaku showing up with Takaba Mr. Reality Warping CT in JJK 270 supports my case too I think.)

What does this mean for JJK 268–270?

The battle ended in JJK 268. Of that I'm certain. What I no longer know is if anyone survived.

A common complaint about Sukuna's death is his lack of an afterlife scene. Everything ended so abruptly. And then Megumi wakes up.

It's so jarring in out of place. ...But that's how all scenes involving the space between dreams and reality begin. Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" once and then again. Most of us have experienced those kind of dreams right? (They made a whole movie about it called Inception which is based on the movie Paprika.)

There's one other thing I need to draw attention to. Yuji's Domain shattered after Sukuna cast Domain Expansion (DE).

When a sorcerer withdraws their domain voluntarily, it does not shatter. Gojo has demonstrated this for us in quite clearly.

When a domain is broken by force, it will shatter and shards will scatter. When a domain is withdrawn, no shards are left behind. Yuta uses these facts as a part of his plan. In JJK 252, it's revealed by Kusakabe that Yuta shatters his own domain on purpose to trick Sukuna into thinking he won.

What this means is that some kind of violent action needs to be taken to shatter a domain. Yuji's domain is massive and his attacks only targeted Sukuna. What could've shattered his domain all at once? He's not had the time to practice shattering parts of it like Yuta.

Gojo has shown us what a uniform domain shattering looks like—it happens when Malevolent Shrine activates. (Please note that the sfx used for Sukuna breaking Gojo's domain is カシャア. It's the same one used for Yuji's domain shattering.)

I'm proposing that we've been in unreality since the end of JJK 266. Sukuna and Yuji are both severely injured, on the verge of death, and have a connection with each other. These are all conditions that trigger the space between dreams and reality.

And I must remind you that Yuji first triggers this event with Todo after a severe head injury. Right before Sukuna casts his domain, they do this to each other.

Everything that has come after has been perfect for Yuji to a unbelievable degree. Everyone whose death was uncertain is alive and the living are getting exactly what they wanted. The effort behind it and the logistics are all missing. And yes a rushed ending can explain that, but that too can be part of the ruse.

Another massive complaint is that mourning has not occurred. Not for Gojo or Choso despite how much Yuji cherished them. It's like they're being willfully forgotten by the cast despite being crucial to their success in Shinjuku. It feels out of character, especially since Yuji is of the few that showed concern for them no matter what.

But if this is a delusion on the brink of death designed to bring happiness, why would Yuji think of the dead? He's always been so avoidant with it. When his grandpa is dying and trying to talk about his parents, Yuji tells him to shut up. When Nanami dies, he thinks of him then and then never again directly leading up to his talk with Sukuna. When Megumi tries to discuss Nobara's fate, Yuji ends the conversation as quickly as possible.

The only people in this world are the ones who may or may not be dead. He saw Yuta in Gojo's corpse. The only way that can happen is if Gojo is dead. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. Choso burned away before his eyes. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. He went through some of Megumi's memories and saw Tsumiki's corpse. Yuji has no choice but to believe it.

And since Tsumiki is the only person Yuji wasn't close with, she's the only death that has been outright acknowledged. But not for too long! That would make Megumi sad.

Another complaint is that Sukuna really didn't kill anyone in the final battle outside of those two and Kashimo. The dudebros call it Disney Kaisen. But the fairytale-like idea that everyone is ok? Todo was the one who put that idea in Yuji's head.

And Yuji has always been one to fall to story-like logic when things look like they're finally wrapping up.

"And then everything will be just fine." (Yuji before the worst possible outcome for both him and Megumi happens.)

This is similar to the line Gakuganji uses in JJK 270. "Everything is fine." This line is the whole reason I sat down and wrote this all out without stopping. I know Gakuganji. He'd never say that. This man has been in a state of worry over Jujutsu Society since his first appearance. He doesn't even fully believe in Gojo's cause as someone who values tradition. He's a stickler for details and will do everything in his power to ensure stability. For him to toss Sukuna and Tengen's remains in a shrine and call it a day? Who is that? He's changed but not that much.

And so I compared the raws.

It is very much the same 大丈夫 (Daijoubu). These are Yuji's words.

What I'm proposing is that JJK 267–270 are Yuji's delusions of the happiest possible ending. It's a picture perfect little end where all the trauma and death has no effect on the living and people move on like nothing happened. I don't know if this means he's dead or if Megumi's dead or if they're all dead. But what I'm seeing now? I don't think it's real.

Reexamining JJK 269

CW: Brief discussion of suicide.

Even if this turns out to be a part of the smokescreen, I'm always going to hate JJK 269. But I do want to give it some grace under the assumption this chapter titled Examination (which can also be translated as Reflection) is about Yuji's guilt. Both him and Megumi's tbh. I think their feelings for each other and their situations are driving these delusions. That's one thing about this space that's real—the feelings behind them.

Yuji has a lot of guilt surrounding his existence after ingesting Sukuna, Megumi does too. Straight up Yuji has been seeking death over it since JJK 9.

He struggles to forgive himself for being the centerpiece to violence he had little to no control over. The only thing that upsets him more than that is knowing that his death will break Megumi's heart. He doesn't want Megumi to feel any guilt for it whatsoever.

The kicker is, Megumi already knows Yuji is planning to die. And he wants to do everything to rid him of that guilt. Up until they connect inside of Yuji's domain, they were unaware they shared the same goal for each other.

And that's what JJK 269 is. It's a very cold and harsh breakdown that allows them to forgive themselves. Blame is passed around and ultimately pinned on a combination of Gojo and Kenjaku. (It's really weird Sukuna isn't blamed either, but that's not the point of this for now.)

Kusakabe's comment is especially harsh. Telling Yuji point blank he should've died and that both sides on the issue were valid? He may have believed that to an extent, but he made a point of not telling it to his face. Why have a whole chapter discussing how kind he is only to turn around and do this?

If this is all a delusion, a manifestation of Yuji's guilt and trying to absolve himself of it for Megumi's sake, that makes sense. This version of Kusakabe is what Yuji feels guilt over the most—Everyone's lives being better if he died.

In the same breath Kusakabe tells them to solely blame the adults. It's very reminiscent of Nanami telling Yuji that being a child is not a sin.

It should also be noted that every single time Megumi tries to apologize for being possessed, he's stopped. Maki tears into Yuta without checking in on him, but she asks if Megumi is ok and tells him to not blame himself. JJK 270 is full of this too. He tries to apologize to Tsumiki at her grave and Shoko tells him not to sweat it. He tries to apologize to Hana and she hits on him instead.

This delusion is crafted out of love. It allows Megumi to live in a world where he can move on from the guilt surrounding his possession and saving Yuji. It's all Yuji has ever wanted for him. And now that Yuji knows Megumi wants him to forgive himself, he has no choice but to do that too.

It's a perfect ending for Megumi that's too good to be true.

It must be a dream...

There's another thing I can't reconcile about JJK 269 unless it's a delusion—Todo's explanation for Yuta's plan. It's another one of those glaring contradictions.

In JJK 269 Todo claims Boogie Woogie can't target Maki. But in JJK 259? Todo makes plans with Mei Mei knowing that it works with her.

Either Todo lied...or Yuji never fully knew the plan and that Boogie Woogie could target Maki. Otherwise she would be dead. Her surviving Sukuna's flames would be impossible.

I've already talked about how Yuji believing those who may or may not be dead are alive is Todo's doing. He's always been the one to save Yuji from his breakdowns. But let's talk about his speech in Shibuya.

"Looking for meaning or logic in death...can at times defile the memories of those we've lost!"

Everyone who has read these past 3 chapters has really felt the defiling of Gojo's memory. And it was all in service to a strange logic that helped them cope with all this death. Acknowledging how massive Gojo's sacrifice was would riddle both Yuji and Megumi with immense guilt, so it's best to ignore it for Megumi's sake. (And perhaps that's why Yuji replaces Gojo in that memory.)

"What have you been entrusted with? You don't need to answer right now. However... Until you find your answer, never stop moving."

In a way, JJK 269 is an answer to the question Todo proposed. Yuji was entrusted with saving Megumi. Saving Megumi requires Megumi and Yuji forgiving themselves. And Yuji won't stop moving until it's done. All these time jumps and rushed developments are Yuji moving Megumi forward. He's getting that happy ending even if it's to the detriment of everything else.

What about Sukuna?

When Sukuna respects his opponents and they have a connection, he gives others these dreams before they pass. He's been very impressed by Megumi since JJK 9. It's not out of the ballpark for him to allow Megumi to die satisfied in the way Gojo did. Yuji also seems to understand that Sukuna was manipulated by others just as much as he was. I think that's why Sukuna is spared of the blame for the most part.

I don't think Sukuna won. He's probably dead. But he did warn Yuji not to underestimate him. I think the worst absolute last fudge you to Yuji he could give is this happy ending dream before ripping it all away as he dies.

In Conclusion...

I'm not sure that we're going to get that happy ending. Reggie Star warned us not too long ago.

"...it all comes down to a sorcerer's lies."

Reggie is a lot like Sukuna here, outwitted by modern sorcerers and dying to someone he loathes. Sukuna is good at tricking people. He let Gojo think he won before tearing it all away. Yuta did the exact same thing to him. Or did he?

"Can you do me a favor? After all, you've killed me. Let fate toy with you, become a clown, then die."

If the last 3 chapters are delusions...Megumi will be playing the part of a clown.

Gege said the manga would end with either 1/4 or 3/4 of Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and Gojo surviving. This of course, could be changed throughout its development, but Gege said the manga is ending in its original vision. There's a real chance that it's only Yuji or Nobara surviving.

Remember, Gege is a troll first and foremost. Somehow Gojo was revived, but in the worst way possible (Yujo). Somehow Gojo did tell Megumi about Toji, but in the worst way possible (dead man's final letter).

Gege also said this about the final chapter:

"I am working hard to create a final chapter that will (hopefully) satisfy as many people as possible who have supported Jujutsu Kaisen. So everyone, please bear with me!"

I can't think of a better way to appease everyone than by making the last 3 chapters nothing more than dream.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

You and Boone fighting over the passenger’s seat in Tyler’s truck

Pairings: Boyfriend!Tyler Owens x Girlfriend!Reader with the chasers

Summary: You and Boone fight over the passenger’s seat in Tyler’s truck.

Warnings: Fluff, language, one mention of sex (18+), kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

“I call shot gun!” You say, running out of the gas station before Boone could.

“I already called it!” Boone says from behind you.

You were about halfway to Tyler’s truck when Boone caught up with you. It took everything in you to out run him. It felt like you were running a marathon to get to Tyler’s truck before Boone.

You reached your hand out to grab the handle of the passenger’s side door, but Boone beat you to it. You glared at him, panting heavily.

“I win! That means I get to sit in the shot gun seat.” He says like he just won a trophy.

“That’s not fair!” You whined like a child.

“Life ain’t always fair, little miss.” He says with a chuckle.

You narrowed your eyes at him. You tried to push him out of the way of the passenger’s door with your body, but it didn’t work. Boone is much stronger than you are.

“Move your ass, Boone.” You say, trying to sound intimidating.

“No.” He simply says.

You kept your eyes narrowed at him and glared at him in a way that scares him.

“I’m not giving up this seat so stop looking at me like that.” Boone said.

You whined loudly and crossed your arms over your chest. Tyler seen Boone guarding the passenger’s door of his truck from you. He walked over to you two to see what was going on.

“What’s going on?” Tyler asks, looking from you to Boone.

“I called dibs on the passenger’s seat before Boone, but he out ran me and got to the truck first.” You explained.

“I won fair and square, girly.” Boone says proudly.

You uncrossed your arms and tried to push Boone out of the way with your body, but it still didn’t work. Tyler pulled you away from Boone by wrapping an arm around your waist and pulled you against the front of his body.

“Boone, seriously. Give me the seat.” You say, resorting to begging.

“No.” He says again.

You huffed loudly, tilting your head back against your boyfriend’s chest. Tyler leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose, making you smile. That’s when you got an idea to get the passenger’s seat. You lifted your head, looking at Boone with a mischievous smile on your face.

“I know a reason why you don’t want that seat.” You say.

“Oh yea? What’s the reason?” Boone asks, playing along and thinking you’re messing with him when actually you’re not.

“You’re not gonna want it after I tell you what me and Tyler did in that seat.” You said with a smirk.

It didn’t take Boone long to know what you’re talking about. His hand fell from the car door handle and moved away from the passenger’s door.

“Y’all ever heard of a bed?” Boone mumbles. “I don’t want it now.” He says, walking away.

Boone walks to one of the other vehicles to ride with the other chasers on the team. You giggled, smiling proudly to yourself. You turned around and kissed Tyler. Tyler’s hands found their way to your hips, pulling you against his body.

“You had to bring up the fact that we fucked in my truck, didn’t you, darlin’?” Tyler says with a small chuckle.

“It got Boone away from my seat.” You stated. “After all, I am your passenger princess.” You say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I think you mean passenger cowgirl. It has a nicer ring to it.” He says, kissing you.

“Even better.” You say with a smile.

🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️

Glen Powell characters tags: @cevansbaby-dove

-Bucky’s Doll

[luveline]

can I pls pls pls get an other single dad Spencer I'm on my knees here jade baby! I would love a fic where they r dating and reader comes over and basically Amy is like ur his gf?? But I thought u were my best friend?! And she's upset and reader is just like babe I can be both! Obvs we r bffs! And then May be she asks Spencer if she can take amy out of ice cream or something just the girls

thank you for your request! fem, 1.4k

Peeling Amy’s grapes is a repetitive, calming task. You press your nail to the top of the grape where the stalk had been, carving away a sliver of the fruit as you pinch the skin and pull. It comes away in small, triangular pieces that you put in the bowl on your lap. 

You put the naked grape in Amy’s hand. They’re seedless, so all she has to do is chew. 

“Thank you,” she says, distracted by the TV. 

“You’re welcome.” You move to another grape. 

You’re sitting together on the couch in Spencer’s apartment. Spencer sits at the dining table across the way, writing a letter, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Bright afternoon sunlight ebbs in through the window behind the kitchen sink to kiss his arms and illuminate his workspace, a beam of it catching his arm, his fine hairs like strands of gold. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah?” 

“Are we still going to the library?” 

“Yeah…” His writing gets very fast. He finishes it off with a smile and a resounding period, picking the paper up and folding it in a clean half. “I can post my letter at the same time.” 

You watch him give his hair a vigorous scratching as he stands. “I’m gonna go get a sweater,” he says, making for his bedroom. 

You follow him until he’s gone. Amy hums, kid-talk for please pay attention to me. 

“Oh, sorry. Forgot your grapes.” 

“Why do you look at him like that?” 

You smile shyly. “Uh, like what?” 

Her brown eyes widen as her eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t know. You looked at him for a long time.” 

“I guess I like looking at him, ‘cos I really like him. You’re beautiful because of so many things, but your dad is part of the reason. He’s beautiful, so you’re beautiful.” 

She wrinkles her nose, but she’s smiling. “You really like him?” she whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you whisper back, “he’s my boyfriend.” 

Amy winces hard. “What?” she asks. 

She’s suddenly and emphatically incredulous. You take her hand, but she takes it right back and stands up on the couch. She gives you a weird look as she backs away, sitting heavily on the armrest. “He’s your boyfriend?” 

“Why do you think I’m always here these days?” 

You know you’ve said the complete wrong thing the moment it leaves your mouth. You’re honestly shocked she didn’t know; Amy is a very smart little girl, and you were under the impression she knew about you and her father being a couple. But she’s also just a little girl, with big feelings. 

“I thought you were here to see me,” she says softly. 

You push the bowl of grapes across the coffee table, remorseful. “Amy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I come here to see you, too, of course I do, I love spending time with you.” 

Her eyes fill with tears. She’s not a crocodile crier, at least not when you’re around. You know these to be the genuine deal, and that makes it much worse for you. 

“Babe, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean it like that, I promise. I’m here to see you, too, it’s not just to see your dad.” 

“Because we’re best friends,” she says. 

“Of course we are.” You open your hands. “Of course.” 

She finally takes your hands, despite her tears. Her face has turned dark with a hot flush, embarrassment twisting her lips into an expression that turns your heart. 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you whisper. “Can you forgive me? You’re so important to me, Amanda.” 

Spencer appears behind her looking like a deer caught in bright headlights. You ignore him, giving Amy’s fingers a rolling squeeze. 

“I thought we were best friends– and– and–” She sucks in a shaky breath as a fresh crest of tears fall. “I thought you were here to see me.” 

“I am here to see you.” 

You’ve done loads of things with Amy without Spencer’s involvement. If he sleeps in, you and Amy watch cartoons together in your pyjamas eating breakfast burritos. You’ve babysat her on short notice, you had her for a sleepover once so he could give a talk in Michigan. You and Amy do tons of things without her father, like eating peeled grapes, and jigsaw puzzles while he reads, and girl talk. You cuddle. 

Poor girl. 

“Amy, I love you.” 

“You do?” 

“So much!” You wipe the tears from her chin. 

“I didn’t know that– that dad was your boyfriend,” she says bashfully. 

“Me and your dad started as best friends, that’s why. He’s my second bestest friend ever.” 

“Who’s number one?” she asks. 

You poke her chest gently. “Who do you think?” 

She nods and looks down. She wipes her cheeks, and that’s what upsets you the most in the whole ordeal. Her hands look small and uncoordinated. 

“You okay, angel?” Spencer asks, coming up from behind to hug her. 

“Sorry,” she says. 

“It’s okay. Crying is okay,” he murmurs. “What happened?” 

“I didn’t know you were boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Spencer says, giving her arm a soft up and down, “when I told you we were dating I should’ve been more clear about what that means. I’m very sorry we confused you.” 

“It’s good!” she says, sniffling, pressing a little sob into Spencer’s chest. 

You bite your cheek. You really hadn’t meant to do this to her, just she’s as empathetic as her father. She’s a bubbling mess against him. 

You look at Spencer. It’s your fault, you misspoke, and you’re asking him to save you as a kindness. 

“What’s making you cry, sweetheart?” he whispers, pulling her right into his chest. 

“I just wanted to be her best friend.” 

“You are,” he whispers, nose against her temple, “I might be her boyfriend, but you think she likes me so much she’s here every single weekend? No way. She sees me every day at work, she doesn’t need to come over if all she wants to do is see me. But you know who she doesn’t see at work?” 

“Me…” 

“Exactly. She comes here every weekend to be with you, so we can all be together. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she says, taking in another shaky breath. 

“Are you crying because you’re still upset, or because it’s just a feeling?” he asks softly, slowly. “It’s okay if you’re still sad, but maybe we need to have some water?” 

“Okay,” she says, stretching it into one big cry. 

“Could I give you a hug?” you ask. You’re lost. 

She nods. Spencer says, “Okay, you guys hug and I’ll go get my Amy a glass of water.” 

You fold Amy into an embrace carefully. She’s heavy with her upset but she wants the hug, her arms at your sides as she rubs her nose against your shoulder. “Amy,” You say, taking a pause to brush her hair from her warm neck, “I’m sorry, angel. I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

She sounds just like her dad as she replies. “I didn’t mean to cry.” 

“Well, that’s okay! If I thought you didn’t want to be my friend either I would be just as upset.” 

“You would?” 

“Amy, do you know how much I love seeing you? I would sit here and watch TV and peel grapes with you every day of the week, I’d love to…” You hope Spencer won’t mind what you’re about to suggest. “In fact, maybe you and I need to do more things together, what do you think? When was the last time we went to Penny’s Ice Cream Parlour?” 

She looks up at you with love and apt suspicion. “You just want me to feel better.” 

“Of course I do. I should be allowed to take my favourite girl for ice cream, right?” 

Spencer hesitates in the kitchen with the fairy glass half full. You’re stroking Amy’s hair away from her neck, so sorry, and so lovely. He couldn’t want anything more in life than Amy, but if he got to choose, he would love to have you, and to have you treat her as you are now, nothing but affection in your touch as you soothe her overstimulation. “We can go alone?” Amy asks. 

“Sure, bubby, we can go just you and me. Banana splits?” 

Spencer loves her, but he loves ice cream, too. “Wait, why can’t I come?”

[rafedaddy01]

Sleeping with the boss

Summary: your the live in maid for the Cameron family and rafe is your boss. His wife refuses him any advances so he sneaks into your room and takes what he wants

Warnings: NON-CON❗️, dark rafe

A/N: thank you to anon for this dirty, yet beautiful, request 💕 I appreciate every single one of you that send me something in my inbox

You were sleeping peacefully when the warm touch of a hand trailing up your exposed thighs woke you up.

“M-Mr. Cameron?” Your groggy eyes opened to the dark moonlit room to see your boss, half naked, crawling on your bed with his hands under the sheets.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just needed some company” Rafes voice was laced with dark tendencies and you knew exactly what he was implying.

“Sir, I d-don’t think this is a good idea” you tried to sit up and push him back but he was stronger, pressing onto your thighs and spreading your legs wider as he held you down.

“You work for me, do you not?” You slowly nodded your head, fear making your heart beat wildly as you knew there was no getting out of this. “Then you will do whatever I tell you to” Rafes voice boomed in your ears as his hands started to remove your sleeping shorts and panties.

“Rafe, please, I don’t want to. Please don’t make me” the tears in your eyes began to sting as he ignored you and gripped your wrists in his hands and held you down as his other hand maneuvered his boxers off his waist.

“Please” you begged and thrashed as much as you could as you felt his hard tip slide through your folds.

“God, so wet. You sure you don’t want this” Rafe mocked you as he continued rubbing your clit, your tears streaming down your face at this point and the sadistic asshole he was, he leaned in and licked he salty water off your cheeks.

“Keep crying, sweetheart, it turns me on” he whispered in your ear as he pushed inside you and the breath physically left your lungs.

He was so big, so long, and so thick.

You could practically feel the bulge in your tummy without even looking.

You had to remind yourself you didn’t want this. But that was all wiped from your mind when he swung his hips back and then thrusted with full force. His tip nudging a spot deep inside you that you or anybody else has never been able to reach.

A moan slipped passed your lips.

“I knew you wanted this, little slut” he gave you a particularly hard thrust as your head rolled to its side and you moaned louder.

“Please” you whined out.

“Are you begging me to stop or keep going” he rolled his hips faster, the small patch of hair tickling your clit and making a tingling sensation roll over your body.

“F-faster!” You spread your legs wider and rafe smirked.

“Good girl” Rafe groaned as he finally let go of your wrists and placed his hands flat against the bed as he used all his force to thrust into you, the bed moving beneath you and the headboard tapping the wall in rhythmic beats.

“Fuck, this pussy feels so good” he groaned above you and it was the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard, causing you to moan and whine louder.

Your nails found way to his back, clawing and scratching into his perfectly smooth skin.

You opened your eyes and saw his face directly above yours, his hair was a mess, sweat dripping off his forehead form the work he was putting in, his chain was dangling back and forth just like his hips.

“Such a pretty slut, letting her boss fuck her tight pussy. You want me to fill you up?” He brought his hand up to your throat, the wedding ring that decorated his finger wrapping around your neck and squeezing.

“Yes! Please!” You begged as he grinned, loving how pathetic you sounded. Just a moment ago you were bawling your eyes out begging him to stop and now you begging him to cum inside you.

“Tsk, I’m gonna need you to beg better than that, sweetheart” he gripped your neck tighter, hips moving furiously as his balls slapped against your ass.

“Beg” his eyes pierced into yours and you could see the darkness swimming in them, “p-please daddy, want your c-cum so bad, need it. Please, please, please, fuck me harder and make me drip with your cum” you struggled to get out from the lack of oxygen coming to your brain but he seemed satisfied enough as he let go of your neck and moved his hips faster.

He propped your leg up at such an angle that allowed him to get deeper, as soon as you felt him practically in your guts you couldn’t hold on longer.

Your pussy fluttered around him, your walls encasing him and molding to the form of his cock as he groaned above you.

Your nails were bloody at this point and his back raw from the indents you left behind.

Your eyes rolled back and your mouth went slack as you drooled and mumbled, and begged and whined, you moaned his name as you came with a scream and Rafes cock throbbed, exploding inside you as you felt the warmth and gooey cream fill you to the brim.

“T-thank you, thank you” you panted as he hovered over you, his face falling into your neck as he caught his breath.

He rolled off of you, laying next to you.

Both of you breathing was the only thing heard in the dark room.

“Holy fuck”

“That was amazing”

you both said at the same time.

Rafe leaned onto his elbow and propped himself up to look at you.

“Next time I want you begging me to fill you up while I fuck that tight ass of yours”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10

[yeopoet]

. 𐙚 INNOCENT TOUCH

hyung line! ateez x gn! reader ֶָ֢ genre: fluff. warnings: none. word count: 906. the one where you blush hard.

author's note: i wrote this based on this post.

☆ ( kim hongjoong⠀ ) ... The biting wind makes your body shudder, despite the warmth of the jacket. You glance sideways at your coworker, Hongjoong, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets, seemingly unbothered by his bare arms. It was your oversight to forget your coat back at the office, and though he had no duty to shield you from the cold, he had shrugged off his jacket for you.

“Are you sure you're not cold?” you ask again, and he clicks his tongue.

“My hands are a little chilly, but it's no big deal,” he replies with a grin. “Besides, the restaurant’s just around the corner. No need to fuss.”

“I do need to fuss.” You inhale deeply, still unconvinced by his words, and start to remove the jacket. He stops you before you can. “I can see the goosebumps on your arms—”

He slips his hand into yours, guiding them into the jacket pocket. You freeze in surprise, but Hongjoong doesn’t let go, pressing his cold fingers around your warm ones.

“Just warm me up. That’ll do,” he says, as heat floods your cheeks with embarrassment. You try to hide it, resuming your walk as if nothing happened. “Are you blushing?” He asks.

“I’m not blushing. It’s just the cold.”

“Yeah, sure.”

☆ ( park seonghwa⠀ ) ... His words reach your ears, but not your brain. You’re silently hoping he doesn’t ask you any questions because you wouldn’t know how to answer. Not because you’re uninterested, but because there are two fallen eyelashes resting on his cheek, and now that you’ve noticed, it’s all you can focus on.

Without meaning to, you let out a small sigh, which makes Seonghwa stop mid-sentence as he’s talking about the last few movies he watched and the ones he’d like to rewatch with you. “Am I boring you?” he asks, flashing a small smile. You shake your head quickly.

“You could never bore me!” The words come out a bit too eagerly, trying to make up for your reaction, and Seonghwa laughs, raising his eyebrows. “It’s just... those two eyelashes on your cheek are completely distracting me.” You raise your hand toward his face. “Can I take them off?”

“Go ahead, if it’ll help you focus on me again.”

You laugh softly, brushing the eyelashes off his face with care. But your long nails make the task trickier than expected, dragging it out longer than it should. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on you, and despite your efforts to stay calm, the warmth spreading across your face is becoming all too noticeable.

“Why are you blushing?” he teases.

“I should be the one embarrassed. You’re just making up this eyelash thing to have an excuse to touch me,” he jokes, rolling his eyes, and you playfully smack his shoulder.

“Shut up! I wasn’t lying.” You hold up your finger. “Look, here they are.”

☆ ( jeong yunho⠀ ) ... The idea to go ice skating was entirely yours, but seeing Yunho's look of panic as you sit there with an injured foot after falling flat on the ice makes you think he’s blaming himself a little. “It was just a scare! It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” you try to reassure him.

“Still, I should’ve held your hand.” He takes a deep breath, brow furrowed, kneeling on the ground as he gently presses your foot. “Does it hurt when I touch here?”

“No, because the fall was so silly, I didn’t even have time to get hurt.”

“No fall is silly.” He pouts as he starts pressing and examining your leg. “How about here? Does this hurt?”

There’s nothing inappropriate about his touch, yet you feel your whole face heat up as Yunho’s hands move up and down your leg. Your delayed response catches his attention, and he looks up at you with a frown before realizing what’s going on. “Why is your face all red? Did the crash affect your head too?” He teases.

“Shut up! Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?”

☆ ( kang yeosang⠀ ) ... He’d been your childhood friend for so long, and seeing him again after five years apart, with barely any contact in between, felt strange. You didn’t expect things to be exactly the same as they were before, but sitting there in front of the goofball you used to call your best friend, you realize that some things never change, no matter how much time passes.

Yeosang is messily devouring the chocolate cookies you brought him, completely unaware of the crumbs all over his face.

“How old are you? Five?” you ask, crossing your arms as he looks at you with a huge question mark on his face. “Your mouth, Yeo—it’s covered in crumbs.”

“Oh!” He laughs, quickly wiping his mouth with his fingers, but since he can’t see where the crumbs are, he doesn’t do a very good job. “Is it clean now?”

You sigh, shaking your head as you reach out to wipe the spots he missed. Yeosang just lets you do it, without a word or protest, and most importantly, without taking his eyes off you.

“You’re blushing,” you tease, trying not to laugh.

“So are you.”

© yeopoet

[sserpente]

Checkmate

“You know, maybe we should play strip chess instead. I think I would be motivated to win if I could get you naked!”

 “Strip chess?” Sylus’ eyebrows shot up. He blinked, observing you wordlessly for a moment. “Very well. Let’s take this up a notch. You lose one piece of clothing for every piece you lose in the game.”

A/N: What’s this? Another red-eyed, pale-skinned and silver-haired morally grey man? Might as well.

Words: 1386 Warnings: smut

You made it a point to sigh. Loudly. With your chin propped up on your elbows, you were sitting across from Sylus on the bed in your pyjamas, a chessboard in between you creating more distance from him than you wanted.

“Are you going to hyperventilate, kitten? This is the third time you’re sighing like this.”

“This is boring, Sylus.”

“Ah, you didn’t hear me complaining after ten long rounds of Kitty Cards, now did you?” He didn’t look up as he spoke. His crimson eyes were fixed on the chequered game board but his voice was not without that teasing tone that always drove you mad and never failed to turn you into a horny mess. Especially now, with how casually he was sitting on the bed with crossed legs and clad in comfortable clothes.

“The chess pieces aren’t meowing at me, it’s not the same. You know I’m bad at chess.”

“Then you’ll get better.” He made his move—and unfortunately, it didn’t mean much to you. You barely remembered the names of all the different pieces but you hadn’t wanted to turn him down when he asked for a round. Time spent with him was rare due to your different sleep schedules, and your visits to the N109 zones were even rarer. Things would change soon. But until then, you’d soak up every minute you could get with him. Even if he wanted to play chess. Even if it was boring as fuck.

“It’s your turn, kitten.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking.” Another sigh. This time, Sylus chuckled in response.

“How do I move this piece again?” You pointed at the chess piece resembling a horse, tilting your head innocently.

“Kitten…” Oh, now that was a reproachful kitten.

“I forgot! I’m sorry, I can’t help it but chess is so boring.” You paused, thinking. “You know, maybe we should play strip chess instead. I think I would be motivated to win if I could get you naked!”

“Strip chess?” Sylus' eyebrows shot up. He blinked, observing you wordlessly for a moment. “Very well. Let’s take this up a notch. You lose one piece of clothing for every piece you lose in the game.”

You frowned and looked down on yourself. Perhaps you should have thought this through first. Sylus was wearing a light jacket, socks, a shirt, a pair of trousers, and likely underwear. You on the other hand had only two pieces of clothing on you—a silk pyjama set with the night sky and embroidered stars on it, a gift from him the first time you returned to the N109 zone to stay with him for a few days. It had been waiting for you on the king-size bed in the guest room. You almost chuckled. You’d never slept in that bed until this day.

“Having second thoughts?” he mused.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s keep playing. It was my turn, yeah?”

He blinked once as if to say yes, his expression so amused you wanted to sigh yet again. This time, however, you really did put some effort in. If you beat him, he’d be sitting across from you naked. So if you moved your pawn over there…

“I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean ‘are you sure’? Don’t make me second-guess myself!”

“Very well…” He moved another piece himself and chuckled. “There goes your knight, sweetie.”

“Ugh! What?”

“Come now. You set up the rules yourself.”

You glared at him and aggressively took your pyjama top off to throw it at his face where it landed with a thud before falling into his lap. His amused grin was even more irritating than the complexity of this silly game. He had the reflexes to catch the piece of clothing. He could have. He simply decided not to. Ugh.

“There. Happy?”

You had hopes that sitting in front of him topless would distract him enough to make a mistake but who were you kidding? Even if he did make a mistake, you were nowhere near skilled enough to beat him at this game. Sylus knew that very well. You’d just hoped that you could snatch up enough of his pieces to see him naked again.

But the stern leader of Onychinus was nothing if not composure personified. He didn’t even bat an eyelash at your half-naked form even though you could clearly tell it did not leave him unaffected. His crimson eyes raked over your breasts and your hardening nipples due to the cool temperatures in his bedroom.

A few moments later though, he moved another piece. Sylus chuckled. “Checkmate.”

You gasped, your eyes darting back down to the chessboard. “What? How?”

“You’ve been focused on your queen too much. Now your king has nowhere left to go. See?” He pointed at the two pieces that cornered your white king. How annoying.

“That’s not fair! You tricked me!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You backed me into a corner!”

“You didn’t pay attention.”

“That’s impossible considering I’m topless and you’re still wearing all of your clothes! Was there even a way out?”

“There was.”

“But…but…ugh!”

Sylus raised an eyebrow and gave you a toothless grin. “I’m waiting.” He gestured at your pyjama bottoms.

“For what? The game is over, you’re still wearing all of your clothes and I’m still bored.”

Sylus laughed. “And you lost yet another piece. Don’t be a sore loser, sweetie.”

“I’m…not!” Cursing him under your breath you leaned back and shrugged off your pyjama bottoms without taking your eyes off him. It wasn’t nearly as sexy as you had hoped for it to be but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “This really didn’t go according to plan…”

“Your ‘plans’ never do, kitten.”

You scoffed. “Now what?”

“Now? You let me admire the view and revel in my triumph.”

“You’re impossible.”

Sylus chuckled. “You’ll find I’m very much possible. Come here.”

Now that was something he didn’t need to tell you twice. You crawled over to him fast, ignoring how the remaining chess pieces fell off the board in the process and made yourself comfortable on his lap. Sylus cradled your naked form in his arms as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. Your eyes fell shut almost automatically when he kissed your forehead.

His hands were less innocent. They ghosted over your exposed skin raising goose bumps where they went. It was sheer luck he didn’t tease you for how quickly your legs fell open when one of them travelled lower and lower, over your breasts and your hard nipples, your stomach and eventually…between your legs to where your body wanted him the most.

“Naughty little kitten, have you been this wet for me the whole time?”

You hummed in agreement, rubbing your nose against the crook of his neck.

Testing the waters, his long fingers started rubbing and caressing your outer lips until they slid between them with ease to tease your clit. Probing and exploring, working you up for him until he had you gushing and whimpering in his lap.

“Why…why were we playing chess if…if we could have just done this…the whole time…instead?”

“As much as I enjoy our…intimate moments, I do place value on spending intellectually stimulating time with you too, kitten.”

“Now you’re…making it sound like I’m…sex-crazed…around you…” Your panting increased, an all too familiar knot tightening in your lower belly.

Sylus laughed. “You’re not. Although…I wouldn’t blame you after getting that first taste.”

“You’re impossible,” you breathed out again. The words were followed by a moan. Sylus slid two fingers into your slick warmth, curling them inside you all the while his thumb kept caressing your clit. Shit, you were so close…so close…

“Sylus…”

“What is it, kitten? Tell me…”

“I’m…I will…oh shit…”

“Come for me,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You let go and fell, your orgasm rippling through you like pure electricity. Your wet walls tightened around his long fingers as he helped you ride it out and relish the taste of every last wave of pleasure consuming you. You kept clenching around rhythmically as that feeling of pure bliss slowly ebbed away again, leaving you breathless in his arms.

“Next time…” you choked out of breath, “…we’re playing UNO.”

Sylus chuckled. “As you wish, kitten.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! Congrats on 7K, and happy late birthday!

I would love to req an apple pie with Spencer (the way you write him is soooOOO cute) and ²⁸⁾ dark lipstick smeared on a cheek, possibly also along with ¹⁴⁾ laddered tights if it makes sense to you, but just the first one is ofc totally cool <3

Thank you for all the fics, the way you write is so so gorgeous and gives me a lot of comfort

Thank you angel!! I'm glad to have you here :)

cw: mention (implied mention?) of alcohol

Spencer Reid x fem!reader �� 578 words

Spencer finds you on the floor below his. You’re standing dejectedly outside a closed door with your arms folded across your chest. 

“Hi,” he says. 

You turn, your mouth falling open in surprise and glee. “Spence!” You start walking to meet him. “I was just talking to you on the phone!” 

“I know you were.” He accepts the hug you offer him. You smell like the lotion you use before going out, and it overpowers the smell of bar. “You were upset I wasn’t coming to the door.” 

“Yeah, because you weren’t.” You seem to remember your upset now, pulling away so you can frown at him. 

Spencer tucks away his smile. “I don’t live here, honey. I’m one floor up.” 

Your gaze moves away from his face, your brows furrowing. “Oh.” 

“But I can take you back there now,” he offers. 

Any trace of a frown vanishes. You’re simpering up at him. “Spencer Reid,” you say in a voice like honey, “you wanna take me back to your place?” 

“I—uh, isn’t that why you came here?” 

“No, it is.” You bite your lip, trying and failing to tamp down your grin. “It just sounds extra fun when you say it.” 

“If you say so.” Spencer laughs, and it comes out sounding more awkward than he would’ve liked. 

Your smile softens. You put your hand in his, letting him lead you back to the elevator. Your touch feels warm and sure. 

“Did you have a good time out?” he asks, pressing the button for his floor with a knuckle and then using his thumb to wipe at a bit of lipstick that’s smeared onto your cheek. Clearly at some point during your night out you’d forgotten you were wearing makeup. There’s also a long tear stretching up from the knee of your tights. 

“Yeah,” you reply, your cheek dimpling under his touch. Spencer lowers his hand, and you watch it go. “I missed you, though.” 

“I’m glad you came over. Did someone give you a ride here?” 

“No, I walked.” You’re still watching his hand. Spencer thinks about putting it back on your face, even though he has no excuse to anymore. Maybe you need two points of contact. 

“I would have come and gotten you,” he says. 

“I like walking. The air felt nice. It’s getting cooler out at night.” 

“Yeah, it is nice.” You’re close enough that he can reach down and lightly graze your laddered tights with his fingers. It’s a chaste tough, just above your knee, but still you shiver as if the chill outside has followed you in. 

The elevator dings. 

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say as he lets you into his apartment. He didn’t lock the door for the short trip downstairs, though he knows several members of his team would have something to say about it if they knew. “Maybe tomorrow we can go for coffee or something. Let me get you a hot drink to celebrate the cool weather, and to say thank you.” 

“You can stay here anytime,” Spencer says, just to know that you’ve heard him say it. It’s not the first time he has. He watches you go straight for the bedroom, for the drawer in his closet where your pajamas are kept. “But coffee would be good, yeah, if—if you still want to tomorrow.” 

You laugh, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Of course I’ll still want to. I always want to.”

[writeriguess]

Hii! Could you do one where katsuki gets jealous bc reader it’s really close with izuku? Thank uu i love your stories! 🩷

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t known for his patience. He wasn’t known for being soft, either. His reputation was built on explosive outbursts, determination, and his constant need to be the best. And normally, he didn’t care about anyone getting close to you. You were his. End of story.

Or so he thought.

Lately, though, you’d been spending an awful lot of time with Izuku Midoriya. At first, Bakugo dismissed it. You and Midoriya were friends. He could tolerate that. But then, it started happening more often—study sessions that lasted way too long, little inside jokes he didn’t understand, the way you’d laugh with Midoriya, so effortlessly, like the two of you had no care in the world.

And that, that, got under his skin.

It was late afternoon, and Bakugo was already on edge. He had been training alone in the gym, venting his frustration with every punch thrown at the punching bag. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his muscles were tense, but nothing he did could shake the feeling that was clawing at his chest.

He stormed out of the gym, towel slung over his shoulder, looking for you. He found you exactly where he didn’t want to see you: sitting outside, across from Midoriya, laughing. Again.

Bakugo clenched his fists. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Midoriya had his eyes on you too, even if the damn nerd tried to hide it. Bakugo could see it—the way Midoriya's eyes lingered on you a little too long, how he always stood just a little too close to you, like he was waiting for something. And you… you didn’t seem to notice.

You looked up from your conversation with Midoriya and spotted Bakugo, waving him over with that smile of yours—the one that usually made his heart race. But right now? It only made the jealousy burn hotter.

“Hey, Katsuki!” you called out, your voice bright.

Midoriya turned and smiled awkwardly at him. “Hey, Kacchan.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. He walked over, but instead of stopping next to you, he towered over Midoriya, glaring down at him.

“Move.”

Midoriya blinked, clearly confused. “W-what?”

“I said, move,” Bakugo growled, voice low and dangerous. “You’ve been hoggin’ her all day, nerd. Time’s up.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, but he hesitated, clearly unsure of what was going on. “Kacchan, we were just—”

“I don’t care what you were doin’,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. His patience, thin as it was, had finally snapped. “She’s mine.”

You gasped softly, caught off guard by Bakugo’s possessiveness. You stood up, stepping between them before things escalated. “Katsuki, calm down. We were just studying.”

“Yeah? Looked like more than studying to me,” Bakugo muttered, his gaze never leaving Midoriya. “You’ve been spendin’ too much time with him.”

You frowned, clearly confused by his tone. “Katsuki, we’re friends. There’s nothing—”

“Friends?” Bakugo interrupted, scoffing. “You really think I can’t tell when someone’s tryna take what’s mine?”

Midoriya stood up quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “Kacchan, it’s not like that. I would never—”

“Shut up, Deku!” Bakugo growled. “This ain’t about you. This is about her.”

He finally tore his eyes away from Midoriya to look at you, his expression softer but still filled with that smoldering jealousy. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost vulnerable, like admitting it pained him.

You blinked, taken aback. This side of Bakugo—possessive, yes, but also insecure, maybe even a little scared—wasn’t something you saw often. Slowly, you stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Katsuki… you know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” you said gently. “There’s nothing going on between me and Izuku.”

Bakugo scoffed, but there was no real bite to it this time. “Tch. It doesn’t matter. I don’t like seein’ you with anyone else like that.”

You smiled softly, understanding the deeper feelings beneath his rough exterior. “I’m with you, Katsuki. Only you.”

For a moment, Bakugo was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “Damn right, you are.”

Midoriya, still standing awkwardly to the side, cleared his throat. “I-I’ll just, uh… leave you two alone.”

As he scurried off, Bakugo smirked. “Yeah, you better run, Deku.”

Once Midoriya was gone, Bakugo pulled you close, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist. “Next time, you’re studyin’ with me. Got it?”

You chuckled softly, leaning into him. “Got it.”

And with that, Bakugo pressed a fierce but tender kiss to your lips, as if to remind you—and himself—that you were his, and no one else’s.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after | jsc

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.4k

author’s note: soooo, I’m back to writing after a long break. this is my first riize fic and Sungchan practically hauled this monster out of my insides until it became 21k. I wrote most of this while listening to sabrina carpenter’s new album and i think sharpest tool, juno and lie to girls fit really well with the theme of this work. english is not my first language, so please be kind if you're going to point out any mistakes. I hope you guys like this.

contents: smut. some fluff. angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). switch!reader and switch!sungchan. sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). pet names. ass man!sungchan. reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no HEA.

You feel pathetic. With a raincoat covered in water splatters and standing on your favorite white sneakers – now mud covered and wet – in front of your situationship’s apartment after ringing the doorbell, you truly feel like an idiot.

It’s been over two weeks since he last texted you and here you are, waiting for him to open his door after calling him on a whim, asking for permission to come and see him. But it was a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester and when you finished your last exam of the day and the rain started pouring down while you were on the bus on your way home, your heart made a last-minute decision to ring him up.

So now here you are, feeling pathetic.

Surprisingly, despite the radio silence for the last fortnight, the door opens quickly to reveal a worried Sungchan with a fresh and fluffy towel in his hands as he urges you inside, hand clasping over yours to pull you away from the cold and into the warmth of his home.

He closes the door with his free hand and his eyes instantly fall onto your body to inspect the damage caused by the storm, the dirt and the finals. You can’t help but feel heat under his gaze, your limbs already growing hot after being in his presence for two seconds. It’s your body's natural response to him since the day you met.

“Why didn’t you call me after you finished your exam?” are his first words to you as his hands take your bag and your raincoat off of your arms, both items falling on the floor around your ankles. “I would’ve picked you up.”

The way he says it almost makes you want to apologize for not doing it, but, in all honesty, you don’t quite believe he would’ve picked you up. Two weeks of not talking is a considerable amount of time, after all. So you bite your tongue and reply with the second thing that comes on your head instead.

“Didn’t even think about it. The rain started after I took the bus,” you say, feeling him wrap you in the towel he brought, hands pressing on your arms to make it absorb the rainwater covering you.

He stays silent as he dries you up, expertly and swiftly moving the towel over the areas of your body that were most affected by the downpour, his furrowed eyebrows showing his concentration. You have to actively stop yourself from reaching up to smooth them over, your hands itching to touch him. But in just fifteen seconds your upper half is dried and he squats down to inspect your legs.

He stops with his right hand on your left calf, looking up at you once he sees the mud covering your jeans.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” he sighs, a small chuckle coming out of his throat, too. “You’re gonna have to take a shower.”

“Oh,” you say, mind still understanding his request while your eyes focus on his. After a beat, you realize that you feel kind of insecure of showering in his place when you don’t know where you both stand on your relationship, so you shake your head. “I can go home to shower and come back later, if it’s okay with you.”

He shakes his head back at you. “No, it’s not. That’d be dumb,” he says, standing up in his full height and making you change your gaze from looking down to looking up at him. You feel a pang in your chest at the rejection, thinking he’s saying it would be stupid to come back to him after, but he smooths one hand over your shoulder and clarifies. “Why would you do that when there’s a perfectly good bathroom here you can use?”

You blink at him, your head again very slow in keeping up with his words. Maybe it’s because it’s been a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester. Maybe it’s because your last brain cell was burned while taking your international law exam. Maybe it’s being close with him again after some time, seeing his deep brown eyes, smelling his cologne and standing in his apartment that makes you so dull. Maybe it’s every one of those reasons. At this moment, you think you’re more pathetic than ever.

And you’re pretty sure Sungchan thinks you are, too, because his features crease again as he looks at you, taking a step back and tugging on your hand to come with him. “Come on. I’ll put your clothes in the washer while you shower.”

You quickly step on the heels of your shoes to take them off and follow him down the hallway to the small bathroom by the end of it. Sungchan fetches you a sealed bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink and a new fluffy towel from his dresser. Then, he waits outside of the bathroom for you to strip off your clothes and hand him every piece – hoodie, shirt, pants, undergarments and socks – through the half open door. He smiles at you for only a second before turning on his heels to take the clothes to the washer, saying you can take your time.

You leave the door leaning on its threshold, not quite closed, because, first of all, Sungchan has seen you naked multiple times and there’s no reason to be shy now, and second of all, you half expect him to come join you. So, you step in the shower, the white tiles cold against your toes as you turn the tap to burning hot just how you like it.

It’s relaxing having the heated water hitting your naked skin after being out in the cold with wet clothes for minutes that felt like years. You indulge yourself in it, sighing and letting your limbs loose, facing down and resting the top of your head against the tiles under the head of the shower, moving your body to fully stand under the water to feel it hit your shoulders as your mind travels back to Sungchan. It’s hard to over analyze his every move, touch and word when he’s just a few steps from you. But you’re an expert on doing that in every possible scenario by now. So, you recall every second of your five-minute interaction with him since you stepped inside his place, trying to look for signs of anything. You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. Although you’ve seen him being comfortable and goofy around friends, he often keeps to himself and can even be described as a shy person most of the days. Even though his playful side comes up occasionally when he’s with you, most of the time you are met with silence that makes you conjecture a million theories that are never proven.

Plus, you’re achingly jumbled today and the truth is you always feel foolish around him. Like your strong attraction to him makes you dim-witted, tongue-tied and incoherent. Just like the first time you ever saw him.

The first time you ever saw him was in your freshman year in the second semester at college, in your Ethics class. He’s a STEM major, which obviously meant he was taking it for an extra credit, but you didn’t know that yet when you walked into the east building expecting to see a class filled with law students and came across the tall and hot math nerd.

One moment, you are hurriedly walking up the steps to your seat as the lecture hall fills with scholars and your professor takes his place in front of the board. In the next one, you’re bumping into a desk and sending a collection of papers and one very pricey scientific calculator to fall on the ground with loud bangs and blasts. You’re desperate as you squat down and rest your books on the following step to search for the batteries and the hood of the calculator that flew around during your mishap. And as your hand finds the last battery missing, another hand clasps over it to retrieve the item and you glance up to meet Sungchan’s eyes. You both stand up at the same time, in which you notice how tall he is, your senses taking in his soft hair, strong grip and big eyes surrounded by his glasses’ frame. And then you flinch, taking your hand back from his and muttering a small hushed apology before walking the last steps to your desk and avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the lesson.

When class is dismissed, despite feeling extremely embarrassed, you gather up your courage and walk down to his desk to apologize profusely, saying how deeply bad you’re feeling and asking if his calculator is still working or if you have to work out a plan to pay for a new one for him.

“Don’t worry. It’s working fine,” he says, the sound of his voice sending a crazy shiver up your spine you never felt before. The first one of many to come. “But if you’re feeling deeply bad about it, you can take me out for dinner.”

You blink at him. The first one of many dim-witted moments to come in his presence. And he chuckles, fingers brushing over your elbow as he steps back from his desk and maneuvers you fully in front of him. You feel your organs internally jolting, like you’ve been struck by an electric shock or like you were numb and dead until now and have suddenly been relieved by a crazy scientist. And it’s all because of his small touch.

“I’m kidding,” he announces after you fail to reply, removing his hand from you, his eyes looking down and the tips of his ears tinting red as he says it. “We’re fine. There’s no need to apologize anymore.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you reply, finally getting out of your head and finding your voice again after being revived by his fingertips. “Really. Most people wouldn’t be this chill.”

He walks around you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and steps down two levels of the stairs, becoming almost eye-level with you when he raises an eyebrow up and says, “Guess I’m not like most people.”

And then he turns his back on you, finishing the final steps of the lecture hall and getting out as you stupidly blink at his back.

It’s ridiculous how much you become obsessed with him after that.

Even though you consider yourself smart enough to not develop a crush on your first year of college, you walk head first into that booby trap. Very quickly and happily, too. 

It takes you a few days after your first meeting to learn that he’s actually a sophomore majoring in biological engineering, which didn’t help at all, because your social sciences brain couldn’t understand a thing about STEM. You also learn that he’s originally from another state and that, yes, he is in your Ethics class for an extra credit. From observing him in your shared class, you figure out he actually keeps to himself and likes to doodle on his textbook while the professor is talking. From a couple of shared acquaintances, you’re told that he’s shy, has never been seen with a partner before and doesn’t really attend parties. He’s a quiet one, they say. So much so that when you tell the person that he jokingly asked you out when you bumped into him, they don’t quite believe you.

As the weeks go by with no new interaction between you two except for the few stolen glances you throw his way during lessons, you start to think you imagined the whole thing. The electric buzz in your inner system when he touched you, the blush on his cheeks and ears, the way his eyes scanned you up and down and how his hand lingered a little too long on your arm… It could all just be a fleeting moment. Or only a natural response of your body from seeing and being close to such an attractive person. It certainly couldn’t mean anything special. You convince yourself that it meant nothing.

And then, the next day, you see him at a café close to campus. He’s there with a few close friends, chatting up and joking with each other, and you’re intrigued by how his smiles are easier to appear and how loud he can laugh in a candid and carefree moment. Also, you feel that same attraction again. That gut-punching-needing-to-be-closer magnetic pull between you two. It makes your nerves stand on end, goosebumps raise all over your body and your focus zero on him. It makes your skin prickle, like every atom of your body is buzzing in excitement and craving to be touched by him. And by the way Sungchan’s breath catches when his eyes meet yours and his posture changes, secretly eyeing you up and down every chance he gets, you can tell he feels it, too.

But it takes so long for you to be close to him. Being from strikingly different majors, you are almost never in the same parts of campus. Apart from the class you two met in and the programming class you took in your sophomore year – which you swore to your friends it was just because you were curious about it and not because of the student body attending to it – you mostly live different lives and stand out of each other's ways.

However, slowly and surely, your life becomes intertwined with his, like someone is playing puzzles with the pieces of you both. First, you become a TA to your environmental law Professor and end up tutoring one-on-one with his cousin Sungho. One day, while you are reviewing the paper he wrote for his class, Sungho tells you how Sungchan said “she’s super hot” when he told him you were his TA. You have to hide your smile behind the paper sheets in your hands to not give away that you’re attracted to him and scold Sungho for distracting you. That’s the first time you have actual evidence of Sungchan’s interest in you and it makes you smile for days.

Then, one of your friends starts hooking up with one of his friends and soon enough you are hanging out together in the same group. It helps you discover new things about him to obsess about. Like how he has the cutest mole on the corner of his upper lip you just need to drop a kiss on. And how his closest friends often call him Jinsu and how he always smiles when he hears it. You learn he’s a gym rat. And that he’s always down to help his peers whenever they have a problem and need a hand. It’s so freaking adorable.

And then, you both join in an extracurricular philosophy workshop you could’ve sworn you heard him ask Haneul, your friend, when was the final date of submission to in one of your hangouts. All these new opportunities to meet him frequently allow you to actually talk to him a few times, and soon enough you're sharing stories about your lives, joking and flirting with each other.

And that’s how, finally, in your junior year of college, your and Sungchan’s paths are unmistakably crossed and you become actual friends. So, when you surprisingly see him at a frat party, it’s natural for you to greet him while he plays Super Mario Bros with his friend Sohee. You strike a conversation about how you thought he didn’t like parties and Sungchan confirms it’s true and tells you how Sohee is a member of the fraternity and actually dragged him there. You laugh at his antics and then he jokes about something else so you smile again.

You want to sit next to him to keep your conversation going, but there’s a bunch of people littered across the room in various stages of drunkenness and practically no space left on the couch he’s on. Sungchan notices your eyes searching for a spot and makes as much room as he can, pulling you to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him. Then, he slings one arm around your body, keeping you steady and close to him, and rests his hand on your lap, his other hand joining from your opposite side with the video game controller. While he fixes his grip on the controller to keep playing, his knuckles graze your jeans clad thighs and you realize that you’re trapped around his arms for the time being.

It makes you instantly go rigid, his sudden closeness already making you dizzy and short of breath. And then, like it’s an afterthought of his, Sungchan leans on your side and looks up at you, his eyes carefully watching your reaction as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You purse your lips together and nod even though the thumping of your heart is so loud in your ears you’re not sure you heard him correctly. “Yeah.”

He nods back at you, a close-lipped smile appearing on his lips as he focuses back on the game playing on the TV. You have to concentrate on keeping your breaths steady as the side of his face brushes your arms, his hair soft and his stubble rough on your skin. You have to bite on your lower lip to keep yourself from sighing when his hands press on your thighs or on your lower stomach, controller lying in your lap as he waits for the game to load. Only after a while you feel comfortable enough to sit back against the cushions and let your hand wander to his shoulders, trembling fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt because your hormones are in a frenzy inside of you.

“You having fun?” He asks after they finish off a match on the game, hot breath falling over your arm and sending an electrical current on your body.

“Yeah. Until now, at least,” you reply, dangling your feet under you to give you something to focus on that it’s not him.

“Wanna have more fun?” He asks, and there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye that sends butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“Like what?” You reply, purposely leaning into the obvious sinful intentions laced in his words.

“We can get out of here,” he says then, fingers twitching the hem of your shirt and brushing on your skin, eyes scanning over your features and looking for any signs that you’re uncomfortable by his actions or words. He licks his lips when he notices how your eyes drop to his mouth and moves his hand to play with a strand of your hair before finishing off his proposition. “Have a drink somewhere more private… If you want.”

You know that the drink is an excuse for something else and that somewhere more private is actually his house. But you’ve been wanting this for so long that you have no desire to play it cool or pretend you don’t want this.

“Sure,” is all you reply, accepting whatever fate has in store for you now.

When Sungchan gets up from the couch and says goodbyes to his friends, he grabs your hand for you two to leave together, checking your eyes one last time to be sure you’re willing to do this just as much as him. You smile at him and that seems to be enough to placate his worries, because he smiles back and pushes you to follow through. You know you’ll kiss him as you make your way down the stairs of the frat house, one hand still gripping Sungchan’s and the other texting your friends to let them know you’re leaving with him. You know you’ll at least make out when he shields your side, protecting you from any unsteady drunk that may trip over you as you try to reach the door out of the house. And you’re pretty sure you’ll fuck as you both wait on the sidewalk for the Uber he asked for, his hand intertwined with yours as he hums along with the music from the party.

Still, you pretend like you’re naïve and clueless just for the mystery still hanging in the air.

Once the car pulls up on the curb, Sungchan leads you inside and enters after. He still holds your hand, resting it against his thigh as you take the left seat of the car and he sits back on the right one. The middle seat between you both is vacant and none of you make a move to sit closer to one another. You can cut the tension with a knife as soon as the car moves and the music from the party fades away. Slowly, he starts to play with your hand, rubbing and grabbing at your knuckles and you hold your breath. A moment later, your palm is up on his lap as he spreads your fingers open, his nails softly grazing the length of each and every one of them. He chuckles when the action makes you shiver and you hide your face with your free hand from embarrassment, turning away to look out the window. But then he changes places, splaying his fingers so you can rub your nails on the length of them now, and the same shudder that ran through you takes over Sungchan’s body, a cute blush appearing on his cheeks. Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. But in that moment, using just the palm of your hands, he chose to become vulnerable to you. His attitude says this is real and I feel it too. And you can’t be more grateful for him finally dropping the mysterious act and becoming transparent for once. At that, you smile and he intertwines his fingers with yours, clutching your hand fully.

You both stop watching your hands to finally look at one another. He sighs contentedly under your gaze and his free hand, the one that isn’t already attached to yours, finds its way on your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His eyes slip to your lips and back to your eyes, searching for something. And only after you nod at him, he dives in, capturing your mouth on his and successfully filling the space in between your seats, leaning his body on yours.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, with so much energy you feel renewed. But you try not to think too much about it and instead feel it as you reciprocate the kiss, your lips and hands restless to show him just how much you felt for him for the past two years.

Sungchan keeps kissing you as the car stops its journey and the driver has to announce you arrived. He keeps kissing you while you walk up the steps of his building to find his apartment. He keeps kissing you whilst he punches the code on his door to get it open. He is still kissing you as you take off your shoes and coats by the hall and he’s leading you inside, whispering a breathless “this is my place” that drives you both into a fit of giggles. He kisses you inside his room, on his bed, as he takes off your clothes. He kisses you even when he puts on the condom and you jerk him off before he slides inside you. He keeps kissing you whilst you adjust to his size and ask him to move faster. When he’s fucking you, he kisses every part of you his lips can reach – your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, your eyebrows, your neck, your ears, your shoulders, your clavicle and your boobs. You think his mouth never leaves your body, never fully at least, when he kisses your lips again whilst you tell him you’re so close. And as you cum, walls spasming and squeezing his cock to milk him dry from his own orgasm, he kisses you one more time.

After, when you’re lying in bed spent and he spoons you, he tells you how much he wanted to do this the first time you met. How you short-circuited his system and made him ask you out on that first moment and how serious he actually was about that. How he didn’t know what to do with himself when you didn’t reply. You chuckle at his confession and let the night wash away his words as you’re lulled to sleep by his warm skin on yours and his groggy soft voice. Before the slumber overtakes you, you swallow the words of your own confession that are burning on your tongue, thinking you’ll have the time to tell him later.

And that’s how you end up here, in a seven-month situationship with him, never quite speaking those words.

By now, it’s nuts the kind of power Sungchan holds over you. And you’re not sure he even knows it. Your relationship – if it even can be called that – is, for the most part, purely skin-on-skin raw sexual desire. Every time you are near Sungchan, you are energetic, your hormones kicking into high gear. For some time, you thought that after a few times sleeping together, you’d be able to get over it and get him out of your system. You hoped that your attraction to him would pass or that it would at least dim. That hooking up would get so common it’d turn boring, that you wouldn’t get the jitters around him anymore or that you’d run out of things to experience and new kinks to try out.

But every time you do it – every time, without fail – you finish it wanting more. You keep coming back to his arms and he keeps letting you in. The chemistry is still off the charts.

You love the way his calloused hands touch you and his soft lips kiss you. You’re crazy about how he has memorized all of your body parts and all of your ticks to make you scream with pleasure in bed. You’re obsessed with how he’s had your skin marked up with his fingers, teeth and scent. You’re captivated by his filthy words on your ear and his gentle hard thrusts against your hips. You’re fixated by how his dick fits perfectly inside you and how he knows how to make you cum in minutes. And you’re haunted by the fact that all of that combined might mean that you are in love with him.

Because sometimes, when you’re not fucking or going about all the stops that would lead you to fuck, you feel genuine deep attachment with him.

In a rare moment he laughs when you tell him how you argued with your crazy conservative forensics’ Professor in front of the Dean in a criminology symposium because he dared to assume asexual women are frigid. Or he lets you lay your head on his chest as he tells you how he and his roommate Shotaro became friends. Or he places a piece of your hair over your ear while you eat dinner together at the pizza place near your place. Or you belt out early 2000’s music together on his beat-up Kia Sephia 1993 while you drive around town. Or you tell him about wanting to change your major to Literature, that you never planned to take Law in the first place, and he encourages you to do what you really want. Or you both stay up late sharing your fears and uncertainties about life after college. Or he pulls you into his arms, holding you closer and tightly against him because your body drifted away from him while sleeping. Or he tells you how he loves your caresses as you pet his hair to lull him back to sleep while the rising sun infiltrates through his room curtains. Or he says he remembered you during the day because he saw your favorite flower blossoming near the building to his calculus class. Or he not so casually asks who was the guy you were talking too close with the last time he saw you on campus, jealousy shining in his eyes. Or he reads the latest philosophy book you recommended and gives you an in-depth review of all the points he found important. Or he buys you a cupcake when you meet up a day after your birthday and acts nonchalant, tips of his ear becoming red, as you ask him what it is for. Or he sends you a Spotify playlist of an artist he thinks you’d really like the sound. Or he asks how your grandmother is doing a few days after you came back from a quick trip home because she was sick.

In those rare moments, you hold yourself together to not bawl your eyes out because of his kind gestures. It’s hard not feeling sentimental being treated with the minimal tenderness when you grew up in a house with strict rules and no space for feelings. Of course, there were the frequent occasions where your parents would scream their lungs out at each other saying the nastiest stuff you ever heard, but, other than that, feelings were bottled up and could only come out in screeches if you were an adult. Your parents turned their maximum effort to make sure food was on the table and you and your siblings were upstanding citizens, and as much as you’re grateful for that, sometimes you resent them for never truly making you feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe that’s the reason why when Sungchan shows you care and desire, you mistake it for love. Because, in those sacred moments in the dead of the night when he shares a part of him with you, something he never told or showed before, you want to crawl out of your skin and into his to become a part of him. That’s when you think – you feel – like you love him. And you feel like maybe he loves you, too.

The fact that he speaks in a gentle and low tone as opposed to the wails you used to listen to as a child is just an added bonus.

After fifteen minutes, you finally close the water tap and the stream of your daydream about Sungchan to step out of the shower. As you dab your body up with a towel, you find out Sungchan has left a change of his clothes for you on the sink while your mind was far away. You quickly dry yourself off and put on the clothes, a pair of his boxers and a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt that retains the heat from the hot water on your body and makes you feel like a human again and not a dirty wet popsicle. Then you wipe a hand on the mirror over the sink to get rid of the steam on it and start brushing your hair back with your fingers to redo your ponytail. Once you’re satisfied, you put the towel up to dry and leave the bathroom, walking the small path to Sungchan’s room. You can’t help but notice that Shotaro’s room, that is right beside Sungchan’s, has its door open and lights out, with no signs of Shotaro inside, which means you and Sungchan have the house alone to yourselves. A wicked smile makes its way to your face as you think of all the noise you can make without a care in the world. But you soon tamper your wild thoughts and breath in before knocking on Sungchan’s closed door, only opening it after you hear his permission to come inside.

His bedroom is small and you’ve been in here so many times you already know it by heart. A twin bed by the window, some basic white curtains, a nightstand, a small desk with a chair by the foot of the bed, a dresser just in front of it and that’s it. It’s a tiny room in a tiny apartment, not much different than yours, and you suppose there’s not much else a college student can afford in a building off-campus.

When you come inside, Sungchan is sitting on his chair, laptop open as he types away. And as you close the door again, he turns on his seat to welcome you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing you up and down. “Did the clothes fit okay?”

You look down at the attire that so clearly belongs to him but fits you well enough because even though he’s taller than you, you’re more full-figured than him. “Yeah. Thanks for lending me them. And for letting me shower.”

“No problem. I already turned on the dryer for your clothes, they should be done in a minute. I also wiped down your raincoat, sneakers and your bag. Shoes are still in the hall. Raincoat and backpack are right there,” he tells you, pointing at a spot behind you where your belongings are gathered, right near his dresser.

Your eyes follow his direction to recognize where your things are and then you look back to him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as you lean back on the wall with hands bound behind your back. Even though you wanted to meet him, you feel misplaced now that you’re here. Like the time apart has made you become strangers to one another. You don’t know what to expect anymore. Sungchan has been nothing but welcoming until now, but you keep fearfully anticipating his every move and word, waiting to be rejected, sure that your presence is annoying him and he’ll ask you to leave at any minute.

Contrarily to all of your fears, Sungchan puts you out of your misery as he extends a hand and beckons you to come closer. When you step in his general direction, he takes your hand in his and draws you in so you’re standing in between his legs. With him still seated in his chair, you’re taller than him, and you like the leverage of looking down on him that it gives you. But instead of meeting his eyes with confidence, you focus your gaze on a spot behind his head as you feel his hands wrapping around your waist and you place your own on his shoulders.

It's only when Sungchan moves one hand to your face and tips your chin back that you really look at him. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that match yours and a white t-shirt that hugs his form and shows his biceps, his fringe styled in a way that leaves a heart-shaped spot on his forehead that you want to drop a kiss on. His reading glasses frame his eyes, the lenses lightly scratched. It’s completely unfair how absolutely ravishing he looks in simple clothing and so little styling.

“Hi there,” he whispers when your eyes stop wandering over his features and finally focus on his face, the smile on his lips making you feel warm all over.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers picking at the fabric of his shirt over his chest for lack of something better to do. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull your face closer. He pecks your lips two times before pulling back. You instantly melt against him, containing the urge to follow his mouth with yours. “I wouldn’t be okay with you standing in those wet cold clothes. Plus, you look cute wearing mine, too.”

You smile shyly at him, your cheeks burning because of the compliment and he nuzzles his nose against yours, muttering a “So damn cute,” before pressing his lips on yours again.

You sigh against him, mouth parting to immediately receive his tongue. It’s slow and sweet, you both getting acquainted with each other again, one of his hands around your waist to press you against his front, and the other one rubbing circles on your nape. Your own hands wrap around his neck and pull at the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. He tastes like mint toothpaste and heaven, and you’re embarrassed by how much you missed this. His closeness, his smell, his touch, his kiss. All of it. All of him. You want him all the time.

“Finals week has been treating you badly, doll?” He asks when you both pull back for air and you groan at his question, hanging your head low and resting your forehead on his right shoulder. He chuckles at you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” you whimper, the press of his lips on your neck making your voice airy.

He nods and softly pushes your head back so he can look at you again. “Fine, let’s not talk about it. But I still have an essay due tomorrow that I’m trying to finish today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to spend much time with you right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply. “You want me to go?”

He shakes his head and looks at you pointedly, muzzling another one of your attempts to flee. “Please stay. I’ll order some food if you’re hungry and you can eat while I work.”

You scrunch your nose at the offer with a hand over your stomach. “I actually feel nauseous after that exam.”

He laughs at you and starts humming, making the most adorable thinking face while he tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you leaving.

“I can charge my phone and watch TikTok videos on your bed while you work? If the sound doesn’t bother you. I’ll make sure the volume is really low.” You suggest. “And after, I don’t know…” You trail off, feeling warm all over again because you actually know exactly what comes after. What comes after is you getting impaled by his dick and writhing in pleasure. And you hope that what comes after is you both finally confessing your feelings for each other, too. But that’s just a hope.

And also, it’s not even the time to think about that, so you shake your head to scare those thoughts away and give him another option, “I can go back home after a while. I actually need to sleep early because I have another exam in the third period tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” he replies, nodding his head and pulling you in for another long and sweet kiss.

That is interrupted by the familiar pinging sound of a message coming through his laptop iMessage app and your eyes instinctively follow it to check what it is. But Sungchan is quicker than you, scrambling up and turning his torso to reach for the mouse and close the notification before you have the chance to see it. It’s a small moment that doesn’t quite alarm you because you know Sungchan is a private person and there’s no way he’d let you look through his texts. Still, as he turns back to drop a last kiss on your lips and you walk away to search for your phone in your bag, something about it nags at the back of your head.

With your phone and charger in hand and the TikTok app open, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. As your brain forgets all about international laws and politics and gets a serotonin boost from puppies and kittens’ videos, Sungchan pulls your feet from the bed to lay them on his lap as he remains seated on his chair. When he’s clicking away on the mouse or scrolling through his screen to read something, he rests his free hand on your ankles and starts massaging the soles of your feet. The domesticity of it all tugs on your heart and you can’t help but smile as you watch his back. Soon enough, the warmth of his room, his kneading on your feet and the comfy feeling get to you and you start to feel sleepy.

So, you connect your charger plug on the outlet behind Sungchan’s bedside table and hook it up on your phone, letting the device rest on the table as you promise Sungchan you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes. Then, you end up falling asleep in just a few seconds.

You feel the warmth first. A source of heat enveloping you in a strong and sturdy body. Then, you feel the gentleness, the soft touch on your hair, the slide of a thumb under your ear that pulls you from your slumber and into the arms of reality.

As you blink your eyes open, you’re met with Sungchan’s deep light brown eyes, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. The atmosphere is comfortable. You’re warm and cozy laying on Sungchan’s twin bed with his arms surrounding you. The rain is still falling outside, although now it has turned into a light drizzle. There’s flimsy wind coming in through the small opening of the window that cools the air and prevents everything from becoming too hot. But you like the heat and think you could be easily lured back to sleep because of it.

“Hi there,” Sungchan mutters before you have the chance to close your eyes again, his head resting on the same pillow as yours.

“Hi, Jinsu” you say groggily, rubbing a hand over your sleepy face. You notice how he smiles and his eyes glint at your use of his favorite nickname, and an emotion stirs deep inside you for seeing him so happy with something so simple. 

You get awkward for a moment thinking you must have mucus on your eyes and a bloated face right now, but Sungchan just keeps smiling at you and it’s enough to take your mind away from the embarrassment. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck as you adjust yourself over the sheets. “Sorry for waking you up. I was just getting comfortable to sleep,” he says. 

“S’okay.” You smile back at him, reaching over to caress his hair, your fingers threading through its strands. “For how long did I nap?”

“Two hours or so,” he says, sliding his hand down to your waist. “You snored, too.”

You give him a scoff, followed by a yawn that starts small and turns big. It makes you stretch your whole body, extending all of your limbs from your arms to your toes, cracking your knuckles and everything, and Sungchan gives you space to do so. When you’re finished, you turn on your back, getting comfortable again and closing your eyes briefly with a quiet hum.

“I should probably go, then,” you say with eyes still closed. It was about 7:30 p.m. when you settled in his bed, which means now it’s close to ten. If you want a quality sleep and to wake up on time tomorrow, you actually should get going. But Sungchan’s bed feels too comfy right now. Being in his arms is not bad either. 

You don’t see, but you can feel him scooting over to you, sheets rustling as he gets closer, his nose nuzzling yours and his hand fiddling with the bottom hem of your sweatshirt, your senses heightened by your drowsy mind and the lack of vision.

“You can stay a little while longer,” he replies with a playful tilt in his words, his fingers skimming over your belly button making you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to see the left side of his mouth popping up as he shamelessly presses his body on the side of yours. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you don’t?” you mumble, suddenly feeling the need to lower your voice with his lips so close to yours, eyes narrowing at his obvious naughty intentions. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” he finally leans in to give you a peck on the lips. “I’m sooo nice,” it’s the last thing he says before kissing you fully.

This kiss is heavy and intimate. His hand around your neck keeps you in place as he savors you, tongue entering your mouth. He strokes the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks and your own tongue, groaning at whatever he finds there. His other hand grazes the skin of your waist tenderly in a way that may have made you think he’d treat you delicately if he wasn’t kissing you with so much fervor and energy. He takes whatever he wants from you until you pull away, already out of breath.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you tease, lips ghosting over his, and he smirks at you.

He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, but I’m all woken up now,” as his hand moves up and down your stomach, faintly caressing your skin in a way that makes your insides burn. He presses his pelvis on the side of your thigh and you feel his dick hardening while still being constrained inside his pants. “Can’t you feel it?”

You reply a faint yeah before he’s all over you again, mouth desperate on yours as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites, hands gripping your waist and body crowding you against the sheets. He’s consuming you whole and he wants more. And you give it to him. All of you. Honestly, at this point you’d give him whatever he asked.

“You don’t have exams tomorrow?” You ask in between kisses, breathless and shaky, the still sane part of your mind trying to estimate how much time you have together and what you’d be able to do with it.

Sungchan shakes his head slightly and kisses the corner of your mouth, putting a strand of your hair that’s fallen free from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’m finished with exams,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, then moves his lips to your earlobe, kissing there, too. “I have all the time in the world for you right now, princess.”

You want to kiss him again, but his head moves up, his nose sinking into your hair and deeply inhaling before pressing his lips on your hairline. “I missed the smell of your shampoo so much,” he says, eyes focusing back on your face as he slides his lips to your temple.

You sigh against him, his words making your heart flutter. Still, you can’t help but tease him when his eyes meet yours again. “Well, if you contacted me earlier, you wouldn’t have missed it,” you say, pouting at him, your hand bawling at his shirt as you finally show how upset the two weeks of radio silence made you feel.

Sungchan laughs at you and cradles his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone as he holds you close. “Oh, did you get mad I didn’t text you, princess?” He mutters, his eyes glinting while yours are sad. “You should’ve texted me, then.”

You keep pouting, making a dissatisfied noise with his reply. Then, you cast your eyes down to the collar of his shirt as you say, “I wanted you to talk to me first.”

Sungchan chuckles and closes his palm on your chin, tilting your head up so you have nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But you ended up calling me up either way, didn’t you?” He teases in a low gruff voice with dark eyes. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks to pucker your lips for him and he drops four consecutives pecks on your mouth that have you sighing. “Sounded so cute on the phone, too, saying you needed to see me,” he finishes.

The mockery of his words falls hard on you, making you feel ashamed as he reminisces your exact words, directly pointing out the truth: that you were the one who pursued him and not the other way around. You whimper in discontent, your face contorting as you try to get away from his grip, but his hold on your chin tightens when you move. So you press your nails on his shoulders over his shirt, hoping the fabric gives away and your force is enough to draw blood, and look at him with hard eyes and anger on your face. “Sungchan, I don’t like-”

“Why don’t you just tell me you missed me, huh?” He asks, interrupting you and making you roll your eyes at him, a snappy reply on your tongue. “Because I missed you, princess. I really did.”

And just like that the anger fizzles out and the irritable words are gone from your brain. His confession makes you melt back against him, breath hitching and eyes going wide. You notice he’s still smirking, probably because he knows he got you right where he wanted. Teasing you nonstop for half a minute and then confessing he missed you just so he can get a reaction out of you. And you give it to him, falling on the trap just like he wanted. You always do.

“Did you really?” You ask, big eyes focusing on his lips and neck pushing forward, needing to hear his confirmation. If you were a pet, your ears would be up and alert, patiently waiting for your owner to assert his authority over you.

“I did,” he says, nodding his head and smoothing his hands over your features now, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “And did you miss me, princess?”

You nod before he’s even finished speaking. Knowing he missed you just how much you missed him fills you with urgency and you’re sure you have eager and wanton eyes as you grip on the back of his head and pull his face closer, focusing your gaze back on his as you sheepishly confess back, “I missed you, Jinsu.”

Sungchan’s smile slowly spreads across his lips as he hears and sees your words coming out of your lips. He pats on the top of your head briefly, like you really are his pet, and coos at you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

And then he’s pulling you in for a kiss again, his mouth devouring you whole as he creeps one hand under your head to support it and slides his other one to grasp at your hip.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you with a leg in between yours, his grip tightening as your tongues meet. In no time you’re both breathing heavily, lips red, swollen and covered in spit as your hands weave through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting everywhere, and drives his hands up your stomach under your shirt, feeling the skin just under your boobs before his fingers enclose over one of them.

You sigh and crane your neck to the side as he keeps peppering kisses on your collar, his thumb now pressing against your nipple as it hardens over his ministrations, another moan flying free from your mouth. You try to match his pace, descending one hand to his stomach to pull up his t-shirt, your fingers grazing his abs.

He pulls away then, kneeling on the bed to remove his shirt and throw it on some corner of his room. You spend approximately two seconds kissing his lower stomach before he’s pulling your sweatshirt – his sweatshirt – over your head, too, and pouncing on you a minute later, his other knee also coming in between your legs as he latches his mouth around one boob, laying you back down.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you groan, your hands clamping on his hair again because he’s sucking on your nipple at just the perfect angle whilst his thigh presses on your crotch with just the ideal amount of friction to make you dizzy. You’re sure you're wet already and it’s not even been over ten minutes since you woke up.

“Missed these tits so much too, princess,” he says over your damp nipple, eyes focusing on yours and raising goosebumps all over you. It’s an incredibly lewd image. His glossy and pretty lips, coated on your saliva, telling you over your areola how much he missed your boobs. Yeah, you’ll probably be thinking about it for a long time, keeping this memory to your mind to use it specifically when you masturbate in the near future. Or you’ll be putting a video representation of it as the cause of your death on your grave when you’re buried. One of these two options, for sure.

He presses kisses all over the valley of your chest before sucking around the skin of your other boob. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to kitten lick at your nipple at the same time his blunt nails graze against the skin just under your belly button on your right side, and you fidget under him. It’s a weak spot he had memorized as soon as you started sleeping together and he tortures you with it every damn time you two fuck just to see you squirm.

“Desperate already?” He says as he rubs the same place over and over, his eyes watching your stomach contract with each caress.

“You’re such a douchebag,” you tell him.

“Why?” he kisses your nipple and focuses his eyes back on yours, stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“You fucking know why,” you respond, moving your hand to his wrist to stop his abuse of your weak spot and sliding his hand down to cup the place in between your thighs over your clothes. “And this is where your hand has to be to make me feel good.”

Sungchan laughs at that, pressing his hand harder on you and sucking on your boob one more time. His eyes and lips are glistening as he says, “So bossy. You’re lucky I like it.”

And then his mouth is claiming yours again while he sits up and his hands make quick work of yanking down your sweatpants and underwear – once again, his clothes – and throwing them away from you, making you lay back and bend your legs. Once he’s done, you move down the bed, sitting to grasp your fingers over the drawstring of his sweatpants, trying to loosen it so he can get just as naked as you are, but he moves his hips out of your reach just before you can finish it.

“I want to feel you, too,” you whine as he hovers over you, one hand pushing on your shoulder to reposition you the way he wants it, your back stretching against the covers again.

He smiles and drops a small peck on the corner of your mouth before moving his body down the bed, hands spreading open your thighs and lips pressing kisses on your belly and going down, down, down.

“In a minute, doll,” he says over your right knee, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs, so close to where you most want him. “Have to make you feel good first, just like you asked.”

His mouth moves up now, lips sucking and bruising your thighs, tongue lavishing over your soft skin, one hand crossed on your waist to hold your body down and another pinching the supple flesh of your butt and thigh, pushing and pulling as he pleases and extending your torture so much more. You love it just as much as you hate it. It’s amazing how much he knows your body, how much he remembers all of your ticks just to use them against you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s him. He makes you feel this way. Always has. Probably always will.

You are about to beg for something more, the first letter of a please making its way out of your now dry lips. And then he’s parting your folds and kissing up your crotch, becoming face to face with your glistening cunt. He buries his nose just on the outer part of it and breathes in deeply for a moment, quite literally inhaling your scent, and you think he just has to be mad. There’s no way in hell he’s a sane person.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, his eyes meeting your wide ones when you press your elbows on the bedspread to support your upper body and watch what he’s doing. “Missed this sweet little pussy, too.” He slides his forefinger up your slit and rubs at your clit, making you shiver. “And she missed me, right, doll? Fucking dripping already. And all for me.”

“Holy shit, you’re crazy,” you moan, brushing his hair back as he keeps rubbing your clit, your hips wiggling with every complete circle he finishes, eyes never leaving his.

“And you love it,” he states and you can’t argue with that. And then he’s licking a wide strip up your pussy, his middle finger reaching down to find your entrance at the same time.

It would be ridiculous to get close to cumming just from that alone, but it’s been so long and you’ve been so pent up you already feel the characteristic churning deep in your stomach. Still, like always, Sungchan takes his time with you, massaging your entrance with his fingers, tongue finding that spot just under your clit that makes you see stars.

The seven months you’ve been doing this have been so full of sexual experiments that now he knows you prefer indirect stimulation rather than the direct on-the-nose approach. He knows you like to be eased into it, to slowly lose yourself to pleasure over getting quickly to your orgasm.

So, he keeps rubbing over your hole before putting his finger in, stroking your walls lazily as you moan softly, his tongue licking over the same spot over and over, oftentimes catching just the underside of your clit and making you swivel your hips trying to follow his lips.

“That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me,” he says as he speeds up his movements, joining another finger inside of your pussy and focusing on the image of your eyes closed, chest heaving and lips bitten. “Feels good?”

“Feels so good, Jinsu,” you reply, opening your glassy eyes to meet his, grabbing at his forearm that’s crossed over the front of your body. Sungchan is so focused on bringing you pleasure that the veins on his arms are popped up, so pretty you wish to run your tongue over each one. All of it just adds to the raw sexual tension lingering in the air.

“I love it when you call me that. You know just the way to drive me crazy, princess,” he groans, eyes never leaving yours as he moves his mouth to your clit again, now sucking harshly on it as his two fingers scissor you open.

Another thing you love about Sungchan is his dirty talk. You still don’t understand how he stays so silent and bashful most of the time and turns into another person in bed, becoming bold and forward. It’s not uncommon for him to be completely calm and collected when you’re in a friendly gather and then say the most obscene things while fucking you half an hour later, the shy persona thrown out the window. Sometimes he starts teasing you with texts, dirty looks or small touches even while you are out with friends. And the knowledge that he gets to be a completely different person just for you got you off one too many times.

You move your free hand to the back of his neck and push him more into your cunt. He gets the message and pulls your legs further apart, one hand going under your bum to support your lower half as you start bucking your hips into his face, sliding your elbows under you to arch your back while you’re searching for pleasure. He’s fucking you with his tongue so good right now you feel your sanity slipping away. The breeze coming from the window gives you goosebumps because of the contrast with the heat of your body, and your nipples stand hard as you whimper, hand pulling on the strands on Sungchan’s nape.

He groans against you, the vibration going straight to your heat and enveloping your whole body. When he pulls aways slightly, he keeps rubbing at your clit with his fingers.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He asks while resting his chin on your thigh and you moan, nodding desperately as you lift your head to look up into his glazed eyes. Words would fail you right now, so you do your best to convey your feelings through your actions, the hand on his forearm gripping him so hard he gives you his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Do it, baby. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Over Sungchan’s eyes, you catch the way he’s rutting his hips on the bed, obviously looking for some kind of friction. The image shows that he’s just as turned on as you while eating you out and it makes you crazier. His shoulder blades and his back are tensed and you rest one foot over his shoulder just to feel the muscles moving under it, so fucking attractive. And when you focus back to his face, he’s panting, gaze never leaving yours as he dips his head again to suck hard on your clit, and that’s when you cum.

Your orgasm takes over your whole body and you shudder as Sungchan doesn’t stop, three of his fingers finding your hole again and pistoning inside you whilst you fall apart, his left cheek resting against your thigh and his eyes never leaving your pussy. You convulse around his hand and under his body, body going haywire while the intense pleasure overwhelms your senses.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. If you should keep your hands pressing against his nape and your hips lifting off in the air or if you should stop and take a breather. It all feels too fucking good it almost smothers you, but you don’t feel like stopping. Sungchan makes the decision for you then, choosing to keep his tongue out to taste you and his fingers curling on the spongy spot inside you that makes you writhe.

But suddenly it’s too much and you sit up to try to push him away with a hand on his forehead and clasp your other one over his wrist that is bended as he still guides his digits furiously inside you. Your legs try to close over his head, but he presses a hand firmly on the inside of your left thigh to keep them apart, his eyes determined as he meets yours again and pulls away slightly from your clit.

“Wait, I’m–“ You try to speak, but the word sensitive doesn’t come out as you feel your thighs trembling.

“I know, doll, I know,” he coos at you with pouty lips, still overstimulating you and enjoying every second of it, his eyes relaying fake empathy. “But you can give me one more, right?” You shake your head no with pleading eyes. Sungchan doesn’t budge. “Yes, you can. I believe in you. Gonna feel so good, too.”

You realize there’s no escaping this. You could use your safe word, but you don’t want to. Not when Sungchan is assertive and so good to you that it makes you feel obedient, keen to do everything in your power to make him feel good as well. So you bite your lip and nod your head at the same time you feel something change deep inside you. Your thighs that were trembling now spread open again and your pelvis starts chasing the feeling of his hand instead of avoiding it. Sungchan makes note of every new reaction, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and his eyes zero in on your cunt again. You relax your back enough to have your elbows hitting the sheets again, head falling back. Your hands weaken their grip on Sungchan’s wrist and head as he doubles down his efforts, fingers unwavering working to bring you to the edge. Soon enough, you feel the tightness in your belly, how it’s so steadfast you can’t help but let yourself fall into it. 

When you sob his name and curl your toes on his back, he looks at you with fierce eyes and one command on his moist lips.

“Cum,” he whispers, soft and yet harsh.

Just like that, the band snaps again and your walls spasm, gushing over Sungchan’s fingers. You arch your back off the bed, hips shooting up to feel everything he has left to give you, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Like before, Sungchan keeps going, working you through it again and the lewd slippery sounds your cunt makes on his hand have you whimpering, nails scratching his wrist and eyes screwing shut to feel it all until it becomes too much again.

This time, when you weakly push at his forehead, Sungchan pulls back. His forearms support his body up as he hovers over you, lips trailing up your whole body as he kisses and sucks every part of you he can reach. “Such a good damn pussy,” he whispers just over the apex between your thighs. “And such a fucking pretty princess,” he says above your belly button. “Made you cum so good, right?” He questions after he sucks one of your nipples on his mouth again, and you paw at his head. “I could do this all night, doll,” he states before licking your other nipple. “And you’d let me, right?” He says before biting a mark on your clavicle.

When his lips come in contact with your own, you pant inside his mouth, trying to match his kisses even though you’re still gasping for air and with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You just loop your arms around his neck and let him kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue and feeling the heat creeping on your cheeks because of the vulgarity of it all.

He bites your bottom lip when you don’t give him an immediate answer and withdraws with it still between his teeth, digging harshly on your plush and hypersensitive skin until you hiss in pain. Only then he releases it. “Right?” He demands.

Your mind is still hazy and you’re still out of breath post two mind blowing orgasms, but you know better than to deny Sungchan when he’s feeling dominating. “Right,” you mutter in your most docile tone.

He smiles and swipes your cheek with his knuckles, thumb stroking on your abused lip before he presses another kiss on it. “Good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your system and you buzz in excitement, like you’re reawakening because of his words. Suddenly, you feel the urge to show him just how good of a girl you can be, how you can make him feel so good he might even forget his name.

You kiss him again and slip your hands down his body to feel his pecs, then his abs, until finally your fingers wrap around the imprint of his dick on his sweatpants. Sungchan hisses, head resting on the crook of your neck and shoulder, hips thrusting down on your hand.

“I need to suck you off,” you say, pushing him with a hand on his chest to make him sit up as you keep working his erection through his pants with your other hand.

Sungchan follows your directions, pulling your upper half up with him but keeping his arms tight around you, constricting you from moving any further. “If you do that right now, I’m gonna cum,” his whispers with eyes boring into yours, a silent plea in them.

You drop a peck on his lips and look at him with the same intensity as you reply. “Great. Then cum in my mouth.”

Just like that he weakens his hold of you and you’re able to slip from his arms to kneel on the floor, pulling on his waist for him to be in the position you want. Sungchan becomes compliant to your whims, just following your moves. Even though you never assigned each other fixed roles in bed, you are usually the one being pliable and manhandled, so it is a nice change to get him to obey your orders. He drops his legs over the side of the bed where you’re located and gives you enough space to shimmy your body in between them. This time he lets you pull at the string of his sweatpants to slacken it and lifts his hips when you pull down on the waistband of it, your hands removing his briefs, too. Both pieces of fabric pool around his ankles as you hold your head up and pull his face down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him while he gets rid of the clothes surrounding his calves, becoming hyper aware of your hands roaming over his body as his dick remains untouched.

Only when you pull back you get a good look at his cock, red, angry and leaking with precum. You lick your lips and keep rubbing your hands at Sungchan’s skin, and his eyes follow the way your right hand tweaks his nipples and your lips close around the space over his left knee.

“Please don’t tease right now, doll,” he says, voice whiny and eyes urgent as your hands start going down his stomach, your nails slightly scratching his skin. 

“Oh yeah? But I thought you liked teasing,” you say with a smirk before kissing his thigh. He opens his legs some more, opening up more space, and shuffles his pelvis closer to the side of the bed, leaning back on one arm. “Or are you that desperate already?”

He sneers at you repeating his earlier words back to him, but when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his dick, the smile is gone and he opens his mouth in a silent groan, brows furrowing together. Sungchan is so thick and heavy in your hand the tips of your fingers don’t touch your thumb as you grip him. Although his size never fails to impress you, you’re used to it by now, and you’re particularly fond of how much pleasure it brings you.

You just find it unfair how even his dick is pretty. Long and thick, mushroom tip with the same pink tinge of his lips and nipples, standing up with a slight curve that always digs so good on that spongy place inside of you. You move your hand up and down his shaft to smear his slick all over him. Your mouth waters at the sight and soon enough you’re pressing a kiss to his tip and watching him purr, thrusting his hips up to follow the feel of your lips when you move back.

“Stay still,” you command and he purses his lips together and nods. His forehead is already beaded with sweat and you love the image of it. You smile softly at him before you kitten-lick his tip, watching his mouth open to deliver quiets aahs and oohs while you tongue at his slit and the underside of his head.

After a while, you finally take him inside your mouth. His tip prods on your cheek as you suck his dick forcefully and that’s enough to make Sungchan groan, head lolling back. You back away again and he whines, lifting his face to look in your eyes again.

“I know, baby boy. So sensitive, right?” You blow air over his head and he fidgets, wiggling his hips slightly. God, he looks gorgeous surrendering himself for you like this. You’ll have to do this more in the near future.

You smile and run your tongue all around his head, teasing him one last time before enveloping your lips around him again, tongue stroking the underside of his cock. Sungchan grips a hand on your hair, threading the strands of your now lopsided and messy ponytail in between his fingers. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down for him, hand stroking the rest of his dick where you’re not able to cover with your mouth. He moans at you and you put another hand on his thigh for balance, breathing in deep through your nose and preparing to take him deeper. A second later you’re relaxing your throat as his dick invades that space, too, concentrating on keeping your breath regulated while he thrusts his hips up.

“Just like that, princess,” he whimpers under you.

You hold out for the longest you can before you feel your gag reflex kicking in and then you retreat with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick, your eyes blurry from unshed tears as you make up for the loss of your mouth with your hand. Sungchan moves both of his hands to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as his thumbs press on your waterline to catch the tears clouding your vision.

When you blink, his face becomes clear to you again. His eyes are glassy and lust filled, his open mouth is panting and his chest, cheeks and neck are splotched. It fills you with pride that he’s gotten into such a fucked-up state just because of you.

“Feels good?” You ask in between deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs with air before preparing to take him in your mouth again whilst you keep pumping his cock.

“Yes. You’ve gotten so good at this, doll. Doing your best job yet,” he says and the pride swells in your chest, an instant ego boost cursing through your system.

Before you met Sungchan, you didn’t care enough about receiving or giving oral. You had a couple of boyfriends before, but you were still inexperienced and slightly disgusted of doing and experimenting certain things. And even though they had given you head before, and you’d tried your best to reciprocate, it was always a means to an end, never the primary goal of your sexual encounters.

But Sungchan was different. The first time he ate you out, he didn’t stop until you finished three times in sequence. It was so good it made you want to do the same for him. He made you feel seductive and bold enough to try new things. And he had the patience to teach you just the way he liked it. He didn’t become frustrated when your rhythm was shitty and you had to take long breaks to breathe before going back at it again. He didn’t push your head to take him all the way when you weren’t prepared. He waited for your affirmative response, leading and encouraging you, praising you whenever you achieved a new skill or did something different. He was good to you. And in turn, you became good for him.

“I like to pleasure you,” you say sincerely and trace your tongue on the vein that runs under his cock.

Sungchan jitters on the bed. “Yeah, and you trained so hard for that, right? Always sucking on my cock like you want to milk me dry, too.”

You nod, suckling and peppering small kisses all over his tip. “I do want to suck you dry.”

He smirks at that and moves his hand to the back of your neck again, tightening his grip. “Then why don’t you put it in your mouth again, baby?”

You smirk back at him and take your last big whiff of air before opening your lips to take him inside again. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down immediately, gripping at the base of his dick a hand and letting his moans, sighs and hums of approval guide your ministrations. You suction on the parts of his cock your mouth can reach and flatten your tongue on the underside of it, playing with his most sensitive parts while Sungchan keeps praising you.

“Shit. So good to me, doll. Keep doing that,” he grunts and you nod.

When his nails dig on your nape and his tip hits the back of your throat, you breathe through your nose and let him jerk his hips up until your forehead meets his stomach and your nose rubs on his pubic hair. You press both of your hands on his thighs and allow him to use your mouth until you can’t breathe and think straight anymore.

When you back out heaving, Sungchan moves his fingers to your face to catch the droll falling from your lips and clean the tears striking your cheeks. He waits for you to gather your surroundings again, still complimenting you and your work.

“Damn, you’re such a good girl,” he says tenderly, thumbs running over the apple of your cheeks. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

The praise, of course, gets to you again. So, you tighten your grip on the root of his cock, starting to pump him faster, and take your other hand away from his thigh, pressing your fingers together and shaping your palm in a conch-like way to rub it on the tip of his dick, your thumb going under the head to rub at the sensitive spot located there. Sungchan moans loudly at that and you lean over to lick on his balls at the best of your ability giving the position you’re both in, not giving up even if the carpeted floor is digging on your skin.

Sungchan scrunches his eyes closed and slides one of his hands to the back of your neck and moves the other to grasp over yours on the head of his cock, pulling it away to rest them together at his thigh. “I’m close, princess.”

You catch his warning and wrap your lips on his cock again, instantly taking him in your throat as he desperately yanks his hips up in your mouth, fingers pressing on your nape and moans growing heavy and breathless. Your free hand fiddles with his balls, your nose presses on his lower stomach again and you swear you can feel him in your windpipe. And that’s when he releases, painting the inside of your mouth white with thick ropes of cum that only seize after a minute. When his body becomes loose and his hand on your neck turns weak, you pull away with a pop, watching his dick twitch and slap against his stomach.

You breathe deep and press your hands on the mattress on both of his sides to get up slowly, back and knees complaining about being in the same position for long minutes. Despite looking limp and still dazed, Sungchan pulls you to him so quickly you almost lose your balance. He peppers kisses on your belly and boobs while your hands press on his shoulders. And when you groan and move a hand to rub your left knee, he pulls your leg up to place your foot on the bed and hunches to close his lips on your skin, his tongue lavishing against the redness there. It tickles and you chuckle at him, but that doesn’t stop him from giving your right leg the same attention. He places your left foot on the ground and bends your right leg to press your toes on the mattress, repeating the same process. You smile fondly at him and caress his hair while he drops kisses on your right knee. And when he’s done, he slides your leg down so you’re now pressing your knee on the bed on the side of his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers as he pulls you in for another kiss.

You press your body closer to his and feel the way his dick is hardening again, rubbing on your thigh, precum wetting it. But as you shuffle to straddle him completely, Sungchan stops you with a hand on your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse from the blowjob. Sungchan doesn’t reply, scooting closer to his nightstand to open his drawer instead.

He pulls a foil packet from the already opened box of condoms and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. You guys have been doing it raw for three months now, ever since you told each other you were clean and not seeing anybody else and you started taking the pill. Sungchan loves finishing inside of you. So of course, you’re a little bit puzzled about why he’s choosing to wear a condom now, all of the sudden.

Well, maybe he’s afraid you met someone else during your time apart, but this possibility doesn’t even make sense. So you try to quash away his worries.

“I haven’t seen anyone else, Sungchan,” you tell him as he opens the foil packet and discards the trash on his night stand, right beside your cell phone.

“I know, doll,” he says back, eyes fleeting on yours for a moment before they focus on wrapping the condom around his dick. His voice sounds confident when he says it and it irks you how he’s so certain you won’t sleep with anyone else. “It’s just quicker to clean up this way.”

You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms. It doesn’t make sense. You can always shower after. That happened all the time. And it frequently led to you having round two in the bathroom, which you are not opposed to at all.

When Sungchan finishes securing the condom on his dick, he grabs your hand to drop a kiss on the back of it and pulls you closer. You budge just slightly and his eyes catch the way your stance is guarded and you’re not opening yourself up for him yet. He smiles, eyes crinkling with the motion. “Come on, princess. We have to be quick, right? Don’t you have to sleep early for that final on your third period tomorrow?”

His words are lovingly convincing and he’s technically right. But you still eye him suspiciously. Your finals are the last thing on your mind right now and you don’t believe Sungchan is worried about your sleep cycle after you just spent almost an hour pleasuring each other. It just doesn’t make sense, your mind screams at you.

You’re sure something is wrong, but when Sungchan starts kissing your clavicle and grabbing at the back of your thighs to pull you against his front, you fold, letting his lips and hands distract you from it. Then you straddle him, eager to have him inside you to pull away from the siren alarm ringing loud inside your head. He’s rock hard again and you take his cock in your hand, slapping it against your pussy lips to share your juices and the condom’s lubricant with each other. Sungchan rests his forehead against yours as you look down together at the scene.

When you move up enough for the head of his cock to catch on your hole, you both sigh, but it slips and hits your clit, so you scoot forward to get better leverage to put him inside you. Sungchan supports you with gripping hands on your back while you move your hips back up and finally his cock prods on your entrance. You’re both sighing together again when he enters you, and when Sungchan meets resistance half his way inside, he pulls you up slightly and rubs your hips, muttering about how good you’re taking him until you release more wetness, your walls fluttering and stretching to accommodate all of him.

Soon enough his thick cock is deep inside you and Sungchan bottoms out with a huff, watching as your pussy envelopes him whole. His mouth is slightly open and his two front teeth show behind his upper lip just like a bunny’s, sweat glistening on his forehead, that heart-shaped spot his hairline makes taunting you again. Your heart swells at the sight of it all, and you hate how cute he is whilst his cock is splitting you open. You place a kiss on the spot on his forehead just like you wanted before and then drop another one on the mole on the corner of his upper lip. Sungchan pulls your lips to his as you experimentally move up and down on him.

“You feel so good, princess,” he moans, breaking the kiss.

“Big,” you whimper out, scratching at his shoulders. “Feels so full, Jinsu.”

He chuckles and kisses on your temple. “I know, princess. But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing at his chest and gazing at his eyes again. “I like it so much.”

And you do. You like it so much that you start riding him with full energy, needing to show him how much you like him inside you, how much you like him. You try to convey with your body the words you haven’t been able to reveal, trying to show him and yourself how much this is right because of how good it feels. Because maybe if you bounce on his dick just right, suck on his pulse point the way he likes it and give him high pitched moans that compliment his performance he’ll start to like you back.

“You’re so perfect,” he says over your ear, his fringe tickling your cheek. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to scream at him that he’s right, that you are perfect, perfect for him. But instead, you purse your lips together and focus on rolling your hips against his until your thighs burn. Sungchan’s hands are splayed on your butt cheeks and he aids you, helping you by moving you up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks at your face as you scrunch up your nose and close your eyes to focus on keep riding him. You try to pick up your movements, needing a faster place to bounce back on him in a way that doesn’t tire you out as much. But Sungchan keeps slowing you down, distracting you by kissing on your pulse point, fondling your boobs, sucking on your nipples or pulling your face to kiss you. While he showers you with affection with his lips, his hand presses deeply and firmly on your back so you ride him languidly, almost stopping at times when the movements pull hoarse moans out of you both.

After a while, you start slacking because you’re actually becoming tired, trembling and losing your flow completely. Sungchan increases his efforts, trying to move you on him with only his hands, but you already surpassed the time you are usually able to ride him and your body is spent. You press your lips on his clavicle and slump against him, giving up completely.

You feel Sungchan lips on the nape of your neck and then his light chuckle. “Want me to take over?” He asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes please,” you breathe against his sternum.

He rubs the expanse of your legs and kisses your shoulder before pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and getting up with you on his lap. You think he’s going to lay you back on his sheets, but are surprised when he carries you over to his dresser, his hand knocking over and away some bottles of perfume and deodorant as he drops you on top of it. You jolt from how cold the wood feels on your heated skin and his cock slips out of you, making you both laugh a beat later.

“Why not the bed?” You ask breathless and still chuckling, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his middle as you shuffle to the edge of the dresser, watching Sungchan’s eyes turn into half-moons as he laughs with you.

“Just wanted to have you here, too,” he whispers, draping his arms tight around you and kissing you again.

He’s so playful and happy today, kissing you so much and complimenting you, slowing down and taking his time with you, his touches so careful and gentle you can’t help but start hoping. You hope that this, whatever this new side of him he’s showing you today, means something more. The feeling chews brutally on your heart, making you aware that you probably won’t come out of it alive.

Sungchan hooks one arm under your leg and pulls you to his body until half of your butt is hanging on the edge of the dresser, then grabs at his dick to guide it back to your hole, groaning when he’s fully inside of you again. You think he’s going to thrust his hips hard and fast, but he surprises you one more time by pulling back slowly, almost all the way out, before driving himself inside of you again just as gently. You sigh at the fullness and he does it again, his eyes fixated on where you two meet. This way you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hitting all the right stops inside you, your toes curling and a moan boiling on your throat from how good it all feels. When he glides back one more time, you lift his head to look into his eyes, and he keeps your gaze as he leisurely fills you up one more time.

 “I love feeling every part of you like this,” he says when he’s bottomed out again, and you think you might die from heartache if he keeps treating you this way.

However, you don’t have the time – and you seriously don’t want to – dwell on it because in the next moment he’s thrusting inside you more forcefully and faster, making you pant and moan profusely again. You let your eyes roam over his form whilst he fucks you deep and hard. He’s so attractive it makes you a little crazy. Sturdy and toned body, a defined chest, six-pack glistening with sweat, biceps flexing as he keeps you in place, veins on his forearms bulging up, a muscular back and firm hips and long strong legs supporting all of it. So tall and strong. His face is ridiculously good-looking, too. Thick brows, wide eyes, a structured nose and pink full lips, his cupid’s bow so well designed you think it was handcrafted by God himself. You don’t know whether to thank him or Sungchan’s parents for putting him in the world. He’s perfect. And great at fucking. You kind of hate him.

Sungchan catches your wandering eyes over him and grins at you. “Like what you see?” He whispers, chest pressing on yours as he slows down his pace.

You roll your eyes. You also hate him for being so smug. “You’re handsome. What should I do? Look away?”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “No. You can look all you want, doll. Memorize it even.”

You pinch his shoulders and graze your teeth on his cheek for that and he shakes with laughter. “Such a cocky boy,” you whisper.

He holds your face in both of his hands as his hips keep meeting yours, going back to the slow measured thrusts inside you. “You’re so beautiful, too,” he mutters and kisses you again, halting all of his movements as his tongue darts inside your lips, tasting every crevice of your mouth. But you’re burning inside and you don’t care for slow and sweet anymore. You want him to ruin you, so you buck your hips forward for him to fill you up all over again.

He exhales and bites on your lower lip as you try working him inside of you the same way he was doing, but you fail. Your rhythm is shit and you’re still exhausted from riding him earlier, so you whine and grip his shoulders. “Sungchan, take me back to the bed so you can fuck me right,” you mumble, wiggling your body and trying to hop down the dresser as he keeps pressed against you, peppering kisses over your neck. “Please, Jinsu.”

He draws back from your neck, then, and quickly hooks his arms over your legs, hands splaying on your butt, to carry you back to the bed, remaining connected with you. You like how he makes you feel so small, as if you weigh nothing even though you have fat on your belly and plump thighs and arms. He never comments on it, too, and you’re so grateful for him never making you feel anything but desirable as your back meets his sheets and he hovers over you again. He's big in more ways than one.

You arch your back so his cock keeps filling you up, searching for that place inside you he always hits so good. But Sungchan has other plans, and his hands come to your wrists to stop your movements, holding your hands over your head as he presses all of his body on yours, your boobs squishing against him. His eyes bore into yours as he leisurely presses his cock inside you again and you bear your nails down on his knuckles. You desperately want to feel him with your hands. And you badly want him to stop looking at you with that intense gaze that makes you think – makes you feel – he cares about you the same way you care about him.

When he kisses you again, you can’t take it anymore, huffing at being constrained by your hands and urging him to look at you. “Can you flip me over?” You ask and Sungchan’s eyes shine bright at your sentence. He can never resist having you in doggy and you smile mischievously when you’re already laying on your stomach a second later, Sungchan manhandling you the way he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he instructs and you fumble to obey his command, pushing yourself up and back on your knees and positioning your hands on the bed at the length of your shoulders to support your body.

Sungchan instantly corrects your form, one hand sneaking in between your thighs to spread them further apart and another pressing on your back for you to lean your upper body down, making you arch. You sigh from feeling his warm touch over your skin, wiggling your ass in the air for him. He chuckles at you and gives a soft slap at your right butt cheek and you laugh with him.

“You look so pretty in this position,” he says, now placing himself behind you and shimmying his knees in between your legs. “You know I love to fuck you like this, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, anticipation building high as you feel him prepare to enter you again. “And I love when you fuck me like this.”

Sungchan hums at you, and you finally feel the warmth of his skin on yours as he slaps his dick over the curve of your ass, making you purr. “And I love this ass, too,” he mutters, resting his cock on your body as his hands grab at your ass. Then he gives it another hit, this time harder than the first one, his palm softly massaging the spot after. You stumble on the bed slightly from the shock, smothering a moan. “Love how it looks when I fuck you.”

You know by now that he’s enjoying his time teasing and playing with you, but you’re so desperate to feel him inside of you again that you don’t mind begging for it. “Jinsu, please. Can you please put it back in?”

He snickers at you and finally finishes rearranging himself, his knuckles brushing against the back of your thighs as he begins tugging on his dick again and guiding it inside you, the head of it pressing on your entrance. “Okay, doll, but just because I want it just as bad as you.”

He slides hard and fully inside you in one go, driving you forward on the mattress. You sigh contently, feeling full and complete. In this new angle, he feels even deeper. Sungchan groans as he feels your cunt spasming around him, one hand gripping your right hip and the other kneading your ass. He pulls back halfway and pushes in again, harder than before, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from how good it already feels.

“You good, princess?” He asks, stilling inside of you.

“Yeah. Feels so deep,” you whisper, leaning the side of your face on the sheets above you to try to look back to him. You only get a glimpse of his left ear and cheek and how his biceps look holding you down, the rest of your view being obstructed by your own body.

“Hmm, I know,” he muses, languidly moving in and out of you, now both of his hands landing on your ass cheeks to spread them apart. You’re pretty sure he’s indulging himself in feeling the plush of your skin spilling between his fingers and watching how your pussy swallows him whole from that angle. He’s addicted to the image and feel of you like this. “I always hit it so deep like this.”

“Uh-huh. And you can hit it harder and faster, too, right?” You tease, pushing yourself back on his cock to make him fuck you swiftly.

He laughs and moves one hand to your hip again, leaning further into you and pressing his hips against yours. “Sorry. Got distracted by your ass again”, he confesses and it’s your time to snicker at him. But soon he begins to drive his cock harder and faster inside you, just like you asked, and your laugh is replaced by moans. “Better now?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling his dick hit all the right places inside of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, his hips kissing yours again and again, the sound of your skins smacking together echoing through the room.

He’s been driving you crazy the whole night with his slow and measured thrusts, his gentle and nice words and his overflowing affection, so it’s no wonder you’re already moaning loudly and fisting the sheets of his bed in very little time. Sungchan is no better than you, though. You can hear him grunting every time his hips kiss yours and feel his legs tensing beneath you. He probably planned to excessively and deliberately tease you until you were begging to cum, but he didn’t realize he’d also be overstimulating himself before getting to the finish line. It’s as annoying as it is adorable.

“Holy shit. You really look so good like this, princess,” he grunts, his eyes admiring how your ass jiggles against him with every forceful drive of his cock inside of you. “Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

Your chest expands at his admission, getting dizzy from the knowledge that he’s so transfixed by you that he says something like that in the heat of the moment. The feeling curls inside your chest and you smile. Maybe he does reciprocate your feelings for him. Who knows?

You open your mouth to say something teasing about his statement, but the words are long forgotten when he reaches his hand up your shoulder to wrap around it and tugs you back against him hard, moving you back to him as he continues driving himself forwards. Your loud moans of his name turn into broken whimpers of random words you don’t even remember thinking.

“So wet and warm for me, gripping me so tight,” he says above you and you wonder how he’s still capable of forming sentences when that ability is now so hard for you. “Fucking perfect.”

“Your dick is perfect,” you try to make out even though your brain is a mess. “You are perfect.”

He moans and grips you tighter, showing he understood you. “Thank you, doll. Now c'mere,” he says, moving his palm on your shoulder the other way around, hooking it under you. “Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

Again, he maneuvers you the way he wishes to. With his cock still inside you, he removes his legs from between yours to position them outside of you now, putting pressure so you have no choice but to drive your legs together. The movement makes your pussy snugger around his cock and he moans, halting for a beat to bask in the feeling of it. Then he pushes your upper half up, hauling you up with his grip on your shoulder, making you raise yourself again until your back meets his chest. You feel prickles on your arm at the close contact and sweat makes you both sticky, your skin gluing you to him as Sungchan now moves a hand to grab at one of your tits and the other one to cross over your whole waist, clinging your body to his.

You’re molded together. You won’t complain about it.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and grazes his thumbnail on your nipple, making you hiss. Then he starts moving again, his hips driving backwards and forwards with enough force to drive you away from him. Except his arms are still steady and firm around you, keeping you connected even through his hard thrusts inside of you, and you reach down to grip his thighs, your nails scratching him.

“That’s it, princess, taking me so well,” he rasps on your ear and you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Shit, Jinsu, I think I’m-" You try to stutter out, your voice becoming high and airy as the head of his cock rubs deliciously on your g-spot.

“Fuck yeah, I can feel you clenching around me,” he says and after his words you feel your cunt contracting even more, trying to keep him inside of you forever. “You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

“Yesyesyes.” You turn your head slightly back so you can rest your forehead on his temple. He turns his face to yours, too, and you watch as droplets of sweat fall from his hair to his face. You move your hand to his face to keep him there and Sungchan does the same with the hand that was gripping your waist, moving it to the side of your face to stroke over your cheekbone with his fingers. “I’m so close, Jinsu,” you murmur, lips ghosting over his.

“Me too, princess,” he replies and drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

You nod just as he slides his hand from your boob to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. The added stimulation on your clitoris makes you light-headed and you try to grip at the last shreds of your sanity to stay in the moment with him. Sungchan’s eyes shine against yours and you overwhelm your senses trying to concentrate on feeling everything at once. His hands and hold all over you, his fingers coaxing your orgasm out of you, his legs hitting on the back of your thighs, his hair brushing against your forehead, the smell of him and of sex – the smell of both of you together – invading your nostrils, his strength driving his hips against yours, his perfect dick hitting inside of you so good, his voice whispering dirty sweet nothings to you. And his lips that attach to yours the moment you’re on the edge of breaking apart, finally making you cum.

Sungchan kisses you while your pussy convulses on his cock and he thrusts inside you one, two, three more times until he’s spilling inside the condom. You keep clenching around him, trying to milk him until the last drop, and he keeps stroking your clit and kissing your lips. Only when your body starts twitching from the overstimulation and you grab at his forearm, he removes his hand from your cunt and detaches his lips from yours to kiss your cheek next. You sigh lazily, trembling on his arms as he pecks the same spot over and over, still muttering compliments and thank you’s. You can’t make out what he’s saying exactly because your blood is still ringing in your ears, your heart is beating rapidly, your thighs are sore and your body is starting to feel the first signs of exhaustion. So, you caress his forearm and hope it’s enough to return the sentiment.

His grip on you loosens just a little and you try to shift ahead. Sungchan, of course, notices your movement, and in no time he’s delicately laying both of you back on the bed, your heated chest rubbing against the cool sheets becoming a luxury as he keeps his rib cage connected to your back, being careful not to drop his full weight on you. He closes his lips over your shoulder blades and you indulge yourself in the attention and tenderness he’s still giving you while you catch your breath.

After some time of exchanging lazy caresses and quick kisses, he finally disconnects his body from yours, pulling out of you and getting up to tie off the end of the condom. You instantly miss his warmth and wrap a hand around his wrist, turning on your side to look at him. He smiles at you and bends over to kiss your forehead quickly.

“I have to drop this in the trash and clean myself a little. I’ll be back in a minute,” he states and gives you another kiss, this time on the lips. Then he tugs his briefs back on, turns and walks out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

You exhale deeply as you turn your head to the ceiling, watching the shadows casted on it by the small droplets of rain still falling randomly outside. Your mind starts to work right away, trying to recap everything you just lived with Sungchan to hunt for signs of his feelings for you. But you’re so tired you banish the thoughts to the back of your head, covering yourself with the bedding from your toes to your head in a feeble attempt to hide from your own mind.

Sungchan is back a minute later, laying on the bed and draping himself all over and around you. You pinch his ribs when he drops his full weight on your stomach and he laughs, pulling at the sheets to see your face and body again. Once your head is out, he threatens to tickle you in retaliation for the tweak in his chest and you lift your arms in surrender, laughing with him.

When you’re both done laughing, Sungchan takes your hands in his and pins them to the bed beside your head, then kisses you. You smile between the soft press of his lips, giddy in oxytocin and pleasure.

“You should probably use the bathroom, too,” he states when he pulls back and you know he’s right. You need to pee and freshen up. And find the courage to leave his house and go to yours. You still have an exam in the morning. “I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer while you’re at it.”

You sigh dramatically and pull yourself from the bed and Sungchan’s arms. He chuckles and hands you a sheet to cover your body before you make your way to the bathroom, murmuring about how “Shotaro could get home anytime”.

You nod and when you turn to walk away, he gives a pat at your bottom, making you yelp. You look over your shoulder to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s all in good fun.

Inside the restroom, you take your time peeing and stretching your limbs back to their places. You hope the soreness from being tense or in the same positions for too long will go away after a good night's sleep. Then you step into the shower to quickly rinse yourself of any bodily fluids and sweat, cleaning your hands methodically and letting some water fall into your messy hair. You wrap your body with the same towel you used earlier and move to stand in front of the mirror again to finger-comb your hair back in a ponytail. But the lilac polka dotted bow scrunchie you had on isn’t with you anymore, probably getting lost around Sungchan’s room in the midst of everything.

You come back from the bathroom and find Sungchan seated on his bed, waiting for you already dressed and with your dried clothes placed by his side, a pensive look in his face while he stares at the wall opposed to him.

“I think I lost my scrunchie,” you say to him, pouting both because your favorite hair accessory and because Sungchan is already clothed. You were hoping you’d ogle his body some more before going.

Sungchan’s head snaps up when you arrive, like you’ve caught him off guard while his mind was elsewhere, but he promptly shakes his reaction off with a smile. “We’ll search for it later.” He puts your clothes on his lap and invites you closer. “Here, I’ll help you dress.”

You saunter over to him and stand in between his legs, thinking he’s just going to hand you each piece of your clothing as you dress up. He surprises you when he picks up your panties, holding it with his two hands inside its waistband, and bends down, lowering the item so you can pass your legs through the openings.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies with a smirk, staying very still as you analyze him, gaze unwavering on yours. You shrug and do as he pleases, standing on one foot and then on the other as you pass your legs through the loops successfully one at a time. He tugs the underwear up until it’s placed correctly around your hips, then pinches gingerly on the place where your right thigh becomes your right butt cheek, as he proudly says, “Atta girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think you’re kinda obsessed with my ass.”

He smiles and preens his neck up to kiss on your clavicle. You fight the urge to search the contact of his lips again when he retreats. “You’re right, I kinda am.” Then he picks up your bra next and signals his forefinger up and in a circular motion for you to turn around.

You turn on your heels and Sungchan’s fingertips start caressing both of your arms, moving softly along your biceps until your forearms and then to your wrists, bra still on his right hand between his pinky and ring fingers. Once he gets to your hands, he hooks the straps of the undergarment over your arms and pulls it up until each one is located on your shoulders. His hands go to your back to close the clasp, and you feel the teeth in the clip nipping slightly at your skin as he fastens it. He drops a kiss on your scapula and goosebumps raise all over your body. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, if his plan is to tease you and ruin you again and, at least, if this is as hot to him as it is to you. If he keeps this up, you might only get out of his place in the morning.

He grabs at your hips and turns back to him again, then holds your jeans, scrunching up the fabric of the legs so you can see the openings from the waistband until the bottom hems. That’s when you break your silence. “Is this some type of kink of yours?”

He chortles at you and holds the pants down for you to put on. You comply, passing your legs through the openings just like you did with the panties, and letting him yank it up. You pay attention to his eyes as he does it. His gaze sparkles as he watches your skin disappearing between his fingers and behind the fabric. You think it’s kind of cute and it reminds you of when you were little and did the same with your toys, changing their outfits nearly every minute. He’s playing with you as if you really are his doll, dressing you up for him. But behind the glow on his eyes, you also catch a hint of longing. Something indescribable, that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sungchan drums his fingers around the waistband of your jeans until they go around all the way to find the button on its front. “Not a kink,” he says sincerely, pressing the button through its loop and then moving his digits down the fly to feel around for the zipper. “Just doing something nice for you.”

“Why?” You question, suspicious eyes falling over his face as he focuses on tugging the zipper up and securing your fastened pants.

He shrugs. “Because I want to.” Then, he hooks his fingers on the belt loops in front of your pants and pulls on them, therefore also pulling you to him. “Because you deserve it,” he says simply with a smile.

You blush at his words, smiling back at him and leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. You want to get lost in his mouth again. You want to get rid of your clothes once more and lay down with him in this bed for a week, finals and chores and college responsibilities be damned. But Sungchan, ever the responsible one, withdraws and puts some distance between your bodies before you get too eager.

“There’s still some clothes left to put on,” he says, snickering when you sigh in response.

You cave in to his will, collaborating with him to put your shirt over your head and then your hoodie. When you’re completely dressed and you straighten the clothes on your body, Sungchan finishes his little game of dress up by tying the strings of your sweater together with a bow. “Pretty girl,” he says.

“Pretty boy,” you say back, moving to sit on his lap, your legs perpendicular to his, one arm going around his shoulders and the other one resting over his, your fingers poking on the collar of his shirt, nails scratching the skin underneath. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I didn’t get to help you dress.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to close around yours, turning it to press his lips on your knuckles. “Maybe another time.”

You scrunch your nose up, obviously not satisfied with his reply. “Another time, then. I should probably get going anyway.”

Sungchan nods, but instead of letting you go, he pulls you close once more, wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands rubbing your back and his face hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hug him back just as tight, running your fingers through his hair while he breathes in your scent and presses kisses into every part his lips can reach. You stay like this for what feels like hours. Every time you think he’s done, he fixes his hold to hug you even tighter, almost binding you two together. When he finally slackens his grip a little, it’s only to move his hand to the back of your head and coax your lips in his. His tongue enters your mouth hungry and yearning, and you kiss him back with all the energy you can muster up. Just like all the kisses before, this one leaves you breathless and dazzled. Your mind is already fogged up and numb by the time he finally pulls back and, with moist lips and a piercing gaze, presses his mouth to yours one final time.

“You should probably get going,” he repeats back to you. You have to blink your eyes open two times to understand what he’s saying and command your wobbly legs to remember how to stand up again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You nod at him and when you get up from his lap, Sungchan slides his hands down your shoulders to your upper arms, then to your forearms and wrists. He squeezes your hands two times before letting you go. You move to his nightstand to retrieve your cell phone, now charged and full of notifications you still leave unopened, and put it in your pocket. Then you bend down to plug the charger out of the switch.

“Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you go,” Sungchan says the moment you take the charger out and you hear the uncertainty in his words, the fear.

Your heart skips a beat, your mind already whirring with a thousand possibilities of whatever he has to say. But you try to keep your expression emotionless and your eagerness at bay while you stand upright again. “Sure. What is it?” You roll up the charger’s wire and nod to him, encouraging him to keep going before turning on your heels to put your things away in your bag.

You’re already with your back turned to him, crouching down to your backpack and opening the zipper of its front pocket when he speaks again. “You remember the girl I partnered up with for my organic chemistry project?”

You pause when you hear him. The zipper’s slide is still as ever beneath your fingertips, the sound of the teeth getting dragged away completely stopping as you remain unmoving. You can sense something is wrong. You feel it in your bones. Whatever his next words are going to be, you’ll not like it one bit.

If Sungchan notices your momentary stillness, he doesn’t make any comment about it. You feel suspended in the air, on the edge of an information that’ll make you jump over the cliff. You wish you could go back to two minutes ago, when you didn’t know he had something to tell you. But your curiosity and the red flags you so carefully stepped around before now come to the forefront of your mind. And you take the bait, dragging the teeth of the zipper back until its stop to mask up for any agitation in your voice when you reply. “The sophomore majoring in biology? Yeah, what about her?”

“We’ve been hanging out for a while now,” he replies quickly this time while you’re putting your charger inside the bag and closing the pocket back. “It’s been working out pretty well.”

You stand up, then, and Sungchan pauses. He’s probably inspecting your reaction before letting the full truth out. You know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s about to reject you, to choose her over you. You wish you couldn’t be able to hear right now. But you need to listen to him so you can move on from whatever this fucked-up thing between you two is. And you decide you need to see it, too, turning around to watch him and crossing your arms over your chest, waiting for the impact.

“I actually really like her,” he says, eyes fixed on the spot behind you on the wall, not quite looking at you. His tone is heavy on the really. He probably just likes you. But her? He really likes her.

And there it is. The whole truth. All those things you ignored before had been there for a reason. The two weeks with no contact. The text on his laptop that he scurried to hide from you. His insistence on wearing a condom. The many kisses, the slow fucking, the compliments. His intense gaze. Even his fucking words.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I love feeling every part of you like this.”

“Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

“You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

All of those words weren’t because he’s in love with you. He didn’t really miss you, either. Maybe your body, sure. But not you, not really. Not at all.

The only reason why he was saying all of that was because he was savoring his time with you. He was saying goodbye. And you fell for it like a fool.

You have every right to be mad at Sungchan for taking advantage of your vulnerable self just to fuck you one last time. He likely planned to just keep ghosting you until you got the message, but then you called him and offered the perfect opportunity of a farewell shag on a silver platter. And he wasn’t going to reject it. He played his cards right, of course.

But you’re not mad at him. At least he gave you three earth-shattering orgasms before breaking your heart.

You’re really mad with yourself. Because you fucking knew it. The signs were everywhere. His silence about the status of your relationship wasn’t because he liked you too much to confess to you or because he was afraid you’d not like him back. It was a strategy. It was about keeping you on his side for as long as he wanted to have you. Good and easy pussy. He didn’t even have to make an effort to lie to you. You did it yourself, bending the truths so you could keep being with him, in whichever way he’d let you.

Plus, there’s no way a man like Sungchan would settle for someone like you. You just choose to push away all the hints he gave you just to feed on crumbs of his affection. A trauma response or some shit like that, no doubt. You’d have to ask your psychology student friend.

God, you really are pathetic.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sungchan asks, and you notice you’ve been lost throwing a pity party on your own thoughts for a while.

To your merit, you shake it off like a champ, smiling at him and falling into your chill girl persona. “That’s great, Jinsu,” you say, smiling even though you’re dying inside. “I guess that means we should stop meeting up, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes widen. He obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. You’ve probably shown your feelings for him a little too much and that made him real sure you’d have an outburst. But you’re a chill girl right now.

Chill girls don’t care about their flings liking someone else. Chill girls don’t want to know everything about it, too. They aren’t curious in the slightest about how long he’s been seeing her, how many times he’s fucked her, if he calls her princess and doll too and if she’s been on the same sheets they’ve just cummed all over in.

And chill girls particularly don’t mind when their friend with benefits for half a year is choosing someone he’s only known for two months over them.

He recovers quickly, looking sheepish while he nods, his cheeks blushing. “Yeah, would that be a problem? I’m actually planning to ask her to be my girlfriend this weekend.”

Shit, you didn’t need to know that. It hurts a little too much. Your smile falters for a beat. Then you turn away from him, busying yourself with picking your backpack up to put it over your body. “No problem at all.”

But Sungchan plays with your feelings until the end, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you back to face him. “Are you really okay with this?” He questions with his best puppy eyes.

He’s still cute while he does it. What a fucker. Now you hate him for real.

If he thinks you’re going to spill your heart out to him and ask him to choose you, pick you, love you in a rendition to Meredith Grey’s speech, he’s very wrong. You still have some pride left.

“Yes. I’m happy for you, Jinsu,” you reply through gritted teeth, the same frozen smile from earlier on your face. You can only be so chill about this and he’s pushing it.

“Oh!” He exclaims after your words, like a lightbulb went out in his head. He at least has the decency to stutter and seem embarrassed as he asks, “Uh… Would you mind going back to call me by my name, too?”

Of course. You just lost your privilege to his nickname. Jinsu is reserved for his close friends and his soon-to-be girlfriend. And, obviously, he can’t risk his new girl hearing another woman calling him such an intimate pet name. She’d have questions.

And you’re nothing for him anymore. You have to stick with his name now.

“Of course, Sungchan.”

“Thanks, princess,” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him. If you can’t call him Jinsu, his nicknames for you are forbidden, too. He covers his mouth with a hand when he notices what he said. “Sorry. Y/N.”

After that, you both walk to the foyer to put on your sneakers so Sungchan can take you home. You don’t want to be in his presence anymore and you try to argue that you would be okay getting an Uber, but he blabbers on about how he insists about it and that’s the least he could do.

You agree just to get it over with. Sungchan picks his car key from the holder in the hall and opens the door for you. You get a last look at his place before stepping out. You feel weird once you’re out and the door closes behind you, realizing that you’ll never be inside his house again. The feeling churns in your heart and your eyes prickle, but you breathe deep and will it to go away.

You both are silent the whole two flights of stairs down his garage. And you stay like that while you get in his car and he turns the engine on, still not speaking a thing as he drives out of the small building complex and takes the path to your home. The only noise is the music coming out the radio and his old car sputtering up.

Luckily enough, your apartment is just a ten-minute drive from his. When he stops the car at your building’s curb, you gather your things from the carpet and say your goodbye. But Sungchan puts his hand over your, though, stopping you from opening the door.

“Can I have one last hug?” He has the audacity to ask.

That’s when you break your chill act.

You look over at him with raw and rough hatred. And he sees it, because he instantly retreats his fingers from you and flinches on his seat. “No, Sungchan,” you almost growl at him, venom dripping from your mouth. “I think your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

She probably will not like finding your favorite scrunchie inside the first drawer of his nightstand where you left it before getting out of his room, too. But that’s not your problem to deal with.

After your final words, you open the door and get out of his car, practically running inside your complex. You stay somber while you walk inside and wait for the elevator. You stay solemn while you ride the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You even remain serious while you type your code in and finally get inside your house.

But when you take your shoes off and drop your bag on the floor, your entryway light flickers over your head for a few seconds until the bulb goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You stare into the dark and are also met with the silent empty space of your apartment.

You move your hand to the bow on your hoodie, the last snippet of your encounter with Sungchan you still have on. You pull on the strings and it disappears. Then you break down, curling over yourself until you’re on your knees, releasing loud sobs with chunks of tears coming out of your eyes.

What comes after is… being utterly alone. 

author’s note: phew! thank you for reading this little monster. please consider letting me know what you think about it in the comments or my askbox. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

[turnfires-secret]

Kinich x top male reader? Imagine that Kinich limps a little after their night with reader, and while reader is trying to make amends, Ajaw makes fun of them in every possible way. That would be fun lmao😭

Anon ilysm i've been craving a reason to write ajaw for days now and I finally get my excuse!

This isn't really smut tho... sorry if I've disappointed anyone!

Payment Due | Kinich X Male Reader

It’s beyond hot inside your shared bedroom? How long had the two of you been at it? Neither you nor Kinich could recall. Kinich has buried his face into the crook of his arm again, trying to keep himself quiet. It doesn’t bring the Turnfire hunter any sort of mercy from the ruthless unending pleasuring plaguing his mind, seeing as you just start fucking him harder fueled by the desire to listen to the whorish sounds that slipped from his mouth.

When Kinich wakens the next morning he’s met with a terrible sticky sensation and… as per usual, the most aggravating sound Kinich had heard in his whole life.

“Ew! You humans really are disgusting! I’d have never expect my own servant to engage in such… foul, vile, unholy, unsanitary acts of sacrilege in the close presence of the mighty dragon lord, Ku’hul Ajaw! “

Attempting to ignore Ajaw’s incessant yapping, Kinich takes a deep breath and gets up out of bed… Only to realize the pain and agony that came with such a task. Actually, phrasing it that way is abit too… dramatic. What he was actually facing was the aches and pains of post sex. Kinich is limping, and (to make the situation worse) Ajaw notices. 

“Oh? Did that puny human you drool over fuck you that hard to the point you can’t walk straight?! Wait- Meheheheh! maybe today’s my lucky day! You should go outside and try fight a pack of those idiotic tribal warriors and die!”

“I’m not that stupid, now leave me alone”

Kinich replied, taking yet another deep breath before going to the bathroom and taking a shower. The dendro user finishes his shower, feeling much more refreshed and awake despite the fact he’s still limping. Changing into some fresh clothes he feels your arms around his waist and your head nuzzle into his shoulder. 

“Well good morning to you too”

“Mhhh~ Kinichhh why are you up so early….?”

To Kinich, the sound of your voice was always the best part of his day.

“It’s far from early my love, Infact, it’s 11 am”

“Still too early…”

“EW, DISGUSTING LOVE BIRDS, YOU MAKE ME SICK!”

Theres a pause in the room before you and Kinich both decide to once more completely ignore the yelling pixelized projection. 

“Moving on, you, should be paying me compensation.”

Even though your voice was the best medicine for the aloof warrior, you were still not exempt from his habit of counting costs. To Kinich, it seems his aching grievance was enough to warrant payment.

“Wh- payment?!”

“Because of your prior actions i now find it hard to walk normally, so personally, i think you should pay the prince, no?”

“Personally i think you should charge them has much as you can, Kinich!” (Ajaw says, bardging into the conversation only to get ignored)

“Wh- Alright then~ For payment how about… we go another round?”

You respond, your voice now holding that seductive tone you seemed to enjoy using with him. 

His neck is sensitive after last night’s activities. You bite down, hard enough for him to feel it. Such an action’s associations mixed with such sensitivity forced a needy whine from Kinich’s throat, aswell as changes the Turnfire warrior’s mind. 

“... fine, i have time to spare… just… be abit more gentle this time, will you?”

[brunchable]

Captivate Me | Stalker!Bucky Barnes x f!reader. [R 18+]

Word count: 23.6K (oops) Pairings: Obsessed Bucky Barnes x Movie Star Reader. Summary: You've been seeing Bucky for a while. You thought meeting him was pure fate but little did you know every single detail was premeditated. Trying to end things with him would be the greatest mistake of your life. Themes/Warning: SMUT OVER 18s ONLY. Dark Romance, slow-burn STALKING, KIDNAPPING, A LOT OF MANHANDLING *DUBCON?* BDSM (Blindfolded, Bed Restraints), Daddy Kink, Masturbation (M), Filming during sex, domineering acts, degradation, praising, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral (M+F), overstimulation, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampied. A/N: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE. It is giving Joe Goldberg. Also Bucky speaks Romanian here, I used google translate. Please don't come at me.

A/N: AGAIN IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE, MOVE ON.

I’ve seen you in a thousand different ways, in a thousand different roles, but none of them—none of them—compared to the real thing. You, walking out of that boutique gym, wiping sweat from your forehead like it wasn’t some holy ritual. You didn’t know I was watching. You never do. That’s the thing about being the most famous actress in Hollywood, isn’t it? People only see the surface, the glitter. The carefully curated perfection. But not me. I see the real you. The one behind all that.

When I first saw you, it wasn’t planned. Not exactly. I mean, I knew I’d see you eventually. I made sure of it. The gym, the coffee shop, your early morning run route that you think is private. I don’t leave things to chance. I orchestrate them. And you—oh, you walked right into my world, didn’t you?

You smiled that smile, the one that makes directors fall to their knees for a chance to cast you. But when you smiled at me, it felt different. Real. Like we were speaking a language only we understood.

It wasn’t hard to make you like me. It never is. I’ve done my homework. I know what you need, what you crave. Stability. Someone who gets it, gets you, in a way that all the shallow, empty faces in your world never will. I became that someone for you, carefully crafting each word, each look, until you were hooked.

It’s funny, the little things you let slip. You think you’re so careful, but I see it. The way your shoulders relax when I talk about my “well-paying job,” when I drop hints about my “family's” holiday home. You like that, don’t you? You like that I’m different from the men who chase you for clout or connections. No, I’m something else. 

You didn’t realize I’d planned our first date down to the minute, did you? Or the second, and the third. You thought it was all so natural. You thought it was just happening. Like we were meant to meet, to be together, to be something special. That’s the thing about fate, though—it’s just another tool. And I wield it perfectly.

It didn’t take long for you to fall for me, just like I knew you would. After all, I’m everything you need. Smart, kind, successful—or at least, that’s what you think. I’m whatever you need me to be. So when I suggested a weekend away at my “holiday” home, you said yes. Hesitant, but yes. You must’ve thought it would be a nice escape. Just us, away from the world that always wants something from you.

Except, you didn’t know it wasn’t an escape at all. It was a step closer to where we were always meant to end up.

That’s what I kept telling myself as we stood in the kitchen of that house, the rain drumming softly against the windows. I poured you a glass of wine, said something about how perfect it all felt, about how right we were together. And you—you just stood there, silent, your eyes distant. Something had shifted.

Then you spoke.

“Bucky,” you said, and my heart stopped because I already knew what was coming. “This is going too fast.”

The words hung in the air like poison. I felt my pulse in my throat, the warmth of the kitchen suddenly stifling.

“I don’t think I see a future with us,” you continued, and each word was a dagger. You tried to soften the blow with that sweet voice of yours, telling me I’m a “great guy,” that it’s “nothing personal.” Nothing personal? How could it not be personal? 

You know, I’ve always been good at controlling myself. That’s one of the things you liked about me, isn’t it? How I’m always so calm, so collected. You don’t want the chaos, the mess of Hollywood drama in your real life. No, you want stability, something solid, someone who can be your anchor in the storm of flashing lights and fake smiles.

And I gave you that. I am that. I’ve been perfect for you—perfect in every way.

So why—why are you standing here, telling me that it’s going “too fast”?

The words echoed in my head, making it hard to focus. You kept talking, kept explaining, but it was like I couldn’t hear you anymore. My mind was racing, my chest tightening with something dark, something unfamiliar. 

No, no, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say it’s too fast when I’ve been so patient, so careful.

You have no idea how long I’ve waited, how meticulously I’ve crafted every single moment between us. Every word, every smile, every touch. This is what we’re supposed to be. You can’t just walk away from that. You can’t just throw it away.

I could feel it bubbling up inside me, the rage, the frustration. It started small, like a flicker of heat behind my eyes, but it was growing, spreading, filling me with something raw and dangerous. I tried to keep it in check, tried to swallow it down. I didn’t want to scare you. That’s not what this was about. This was supposed to be perfect.

But you kept talking, kept saying things that made it worse. Words like “future,” like “great guy,” like “nothing personal.”

Nothing personal? Again.

How dare you? How dare you make it sound like I’m just another guy, like I didn’t plan every single moment of our time together? You think this isn’t personal? You think I’m just going to let you go like all the others? No.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to hold it in, trying not to let you see what you were doing to me. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t shut up. And then you said it—that one final thing that broke me.

“I just don’t feel the same way.”

There it was. The truth, out in the open, sharp and jagged like broken glass. And something inside me snapped. I could feel it, like a wire pulled too tight finally giving way. My pulse thundered in my ears, my breathing shallow and ragged. You didn’t get it. You didn’t see how much I’d done for us, how much I’d sacrificed. You didn’t understand how perfect we could be if you just—just—

I slammed my hand down on the counter next to you, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot. You jumped, startled, your eyes wide with fear as you flinched, taking a step back from me.

And that—oh, that—was new.

Fear. Real, genuine fear appeared in your eyes like you were finally seeing me for the first time. I should’ve hated it. I should’ve backed off, apologised, done something to make it go away.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because part of me—some dark, twisted part of me—liked it. I liked that you were finally seeing me. The real me. Not the carefully crafted version I’d shown you before, but the one who needed you, the one who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re scaring me.”

I blinked, the words cutting through the fog of anger, but they didn’t have the effect you wanted. Scaring you? No. No, you’re not scared of me. You’re scared of losing control, scared of what it means to be with someone like me, someone who actually cares enough to make sure you stay.

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I watched you take another step back, your hands trembling slightly, your eyes darting to the door like you were planning to run.

I watched the fear ripple through you, your breathing quickening, your eyes scanning the room like you were calculating the distance to the door. Like you thought you could just run. Like you actually thought you could escape me.

But you can’t.

No, we’ve come too far for that.

I took a step toward you, slow and measured, watching the way you flinched, the way your body tensed like a deer ready to bolt. I didn’t want to hurt you—I didn’t. But you were leaving me no choice. You were making this hard, when it didn’t have to be. I didn’t want it to be this way.

“Bucky…” Your voice was small, fragile. You were trying to reason with me, but it was too late for that. Too late for words. The world outside, the life we had before stepping into this house, it was all fading away. It was just us now, just the truth between us, raw and unfiltered.

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice low, my hand still pressed firmly against the counter. I could feel the cool granite beneath my palm, grounding me, barely holding back the storm inside. “This is right. We are right for each other. You just… you just don’t see it yet.”

Your eyes darted toward the door again, that brief flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could get away. I could see it in the way your muscles tensed, in the way your feet shifted like you were getting ready to run. And I hated it—hated that you still didn’t understand.

I moved faster than you expected, my hand reaching out to grab your arm before you could make a break for it. You gasped, your eyes wide with terror as I pulled you back, your body colliding with mine. You struggled, kicking, twisting, trying to break free, but I was stronger. I’d always been stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, your voice shrill, panicked. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.

You don’t get it. You can’t leave. 

“Stop fighting,” I growled, pulling you closer, your back pressed against my chest. I could feel your heart hammering beneath your skin, the rapid rise and fall of your breath. You were terrified, and part of me—some dark, primal part of me—thrived on that fear. But another part of me hated it. I didn’t want you to be afraid. I wanted you to see that I was doing this for us.

“Please, Bucky… you’re hurting me.”

Those words. They cut through the fog of anger, piercing something deep inside me. My grip loosened for just a second, just long enough for you to break free, to twist out of my hold and make a desperate run for the door.

And you did it.

You yanked the door open, sprinting out into the rain like your life depended on it. You were fast, I’ll give you that.

Desperation makes people faster. 

Your bare feet slapped against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as you made your way to the car. You thought you were getting away. You thought you were winning.

I followed, just a few paces behind. I let you think you had a chance. Let you scramble to the driver’s side door, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the handle. You were soaked, the rain plastering your hair to your face, but you didn’t stop. You threw open the door, slipping into the car, your fingers trembling as you searched for the keys.

But I was there. Right behind you. And you didn’t have the keys, did you?

“Bucky, please!” you screamed, your voice high and panicked, but it didn’t matter. I yanked the door open before you could lock it, my hand reaching in and grabbing your arm with a force that made you cry out.

You kicked. You screamed. Your nails clawed at my hand, your legs thrashing as I dragged you out of the car, but you weren’t strong enough. You were never going to be strong enough.

“No!” you shrieked, your voice cracking as I hauled you back toward the house, the rain pouring down around us. You fought me every step of the way, your feet slipping in the mud, your body twisting, trying to break free.

But I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

“You’re not leaving,” I growled, my voice barely audible over the storm, my grip tightening as I dragged you back inside. Your body was limp now, weak from the struggle, but your eyes—oh, your eyes were still filled with that same fear.

We’re not done. We’re never going to be done.

Not until you see it.

Not until you see me.

× × × ×

Your POV

You wake slowly, your head throbbing, the world around you blurry and disorienting. The sound of the storm outside reaches you first, the rumble of thunder vibrating through the walls, the rain pounding relentlessly against the windows. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The sheets beneath you are soft—too soft—and they smell like detergent, unfamiliar.

That’s when you feel it. The cold metal around your wrists.

Panic surges through your veins as you jerk upright, or at least, you try to. Your hands are cuffed to the bed, the harsh clink of metal echoing in the dimly lit room as you struggle against them. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear hitting you like a wave, choking you as you realize—this isn’t a nightmare.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you take in the room. It’s dim, lit only by the soft, flickering glow of a bedside lamp, the corners of the room swallowed by shadows. You’re not in the same clothes you remember. You’re dressed in something clean now, something soft, but it’s not your own. Someone…he changed you.

And then you see him.

Bucky.

He’s sitting in the corner, hidden in the shadows, watching you. His silhouette is dark, unmoving, and it sends a chill down your spine. The storm outside feels like a reflection of the chaos inside your head, the way everything is spinning, nothing making sense.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and when you finally manage to choke out his name, it sounds small, pitiful. 

“Bucky?”

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps watching, like a predator studying its prey. Like he’s waiting for you to say or do something, but you don’t know what. Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. The fear grips you tighter with every second that passes, the realization of your situation crashing down on you like the thunder outside.

“I… I don’t understand.” Your voice is trembling, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you tug helplessly at the cuffs, the metal biting into your skin. “Why are you doing this? Let me go, please.”

Still, he says nothing. The silence stretches on, oppressive, suffocating. You can feel his eyes on you, piercing through the darkness, and it makes your skin crawl. 

You don’t recognize this man, not anymore. The Bucky you thought you knew, the one who smiled at you over dinner, the one who laughed at your jokes, who held your hand… that Bucky is gone. Or maybe he was never real to begin with.

“You’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the tears finally spill over, sliding down your cheeks. “Please, just let me go. I won’t— I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I just want to leave.”

His figure shifts slightly in the chair, the movement so subtle you almost miss it, but it feels like a thunderclap in the tense stillness of the room. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, dark, carrying with it an edge of something you don’t want to name.

“You need to stop thinking of escape,” he says, his words measured. “I’m not your enemy, I’m the one saving you. And one day, you’ll understand that.”

Your stomach drops. There’s something final in the way he says it, something that makes you realize there’s no reasoning with him. No escape.

You’re trapped.

A sob escapes your lips, your body shaking as you pull at the cuffs again, but it’s no use. The storm outside rages on, the wind howling like some terrible omen, and you can’t help but wonder if anyone—anyone at all—can hear you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as Bucky stands up from the chair, his silhouette dark against the dim light. His movements are slow, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him as he steps out of the shadows. Something glints in his hand, and when he comes closer, you see it.

Your phone.

He’s holding your phone.

Bucky twirls it in his hand like it’s some casual toy, but the sight of it makes your stomach churn. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you, and a slow smile spreads across his lips—not the warm, charming smile you once knew, but something colder, calculated.

He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s standing right next to the bed. His presence looms over you, the phone still in his hand as he looks down at you, handcuffed and helpless.

“So,” he says, his voice smooth, unsettlingly calm. “What should you post tonight? Hm?”

You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the words. Post? He can't be serious. He wouldn’t—

Bucky’s eyes flicker down to the screen, and with a swipe of his thumb, the display lights up. “You wouldn’t want people to think you’ve gone missing, would you? That might cause a… panic.” He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Your throat tightens, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill over again. You shake your head, more in disbelief than as an answer. He’s playing with you, toying with the very thing that connects you to the world outside this nightmare. And the way he’s handling your phone, so casually, makes it clear—he’s already thought this through.

“Maybe a picture of your feet by the fire?” he muses, tilting his head as if he’s considering the best angle. “Or better yet, one of those ‘cozy night in’ captions. That’ll sell it. Everyone will think you’re just relaxing after a long day. Just another night for Hollywood’s sweetheart.”

His words send ice through your veins. He’s already planned it all out, how to keep up the illusion that you’re fine, that nothing’s wrong. No one will even suspect you’re missing. No one will come looking for you.

You try to speak, to find words, but your voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Please, Bucky, don’t—”

But he ignores your plea, his eyes focused on your phone as he pulls up your social media app. “Smile,” he says mockingly, as though you’re some doll he can dress up for show. “Or don’t. I can manage this on my own. I’ve been watching you for long enough to know exactly what your fans want.”

You feel the tears slip down your cheeks, helplessness gripping you as he takes control of your life in the most terrifying way possible. The world outside keeps spinning, oblivious to the fact that you’re trapped in this nightmare, and he’s holding the one lifeline that could save you, dangling it just out of reach.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, his voice a twisted mockery of comfort. “I’ll keep everyone updated. No one will know anything’s wrong. Not until you’ve had time to understand why you’re really here.”

And as he taps away at your phone, the storm rages on outside, but inside this room, it’s the calm before the real storm—the one you know is coming but can’t escape.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV 

The thing about phones—your phone, to be specific—is that they’re intimate. More intimate than a diary, more personal than any conversation you’ve ever had. Every swipe, every message, every like, is a little breadcrumb leading back to the real you. The parts you don’t share with the world. And here I am, with your phone in my hand, holding every piece of you in the palm of mine.

I can feel your eyes on me as I scroll through it, your fear practically radiating off you in waves. But I ignore it. I’ve already moved past that phase, the part where I worry about what you’re thinking. You’ll come around eventually, once you see that I’m doing this for us.

For you.

The soft glow of your screen illuminates my face as I unlock it easily—your passcode was one of the first things I learned about you. A four-digit combination, barely a barrier, really. I swipe through your photos first, and there’s a strange comfort in seeing the world through your eyes. Pictures of sunsets, candid moments with co-stars, perfectly posed selfies for your millions of followers. Each photo carefully curated for the world. But I keep scrolling because I know that’s not all there is.

And then I see it. A photo you took of me.

It’s not staged, not some posed couple’s picture for social media. It’s real. I’m asleep—my head turned slightly to the side, my face peaceful, unaware. You took this when you thought I wasn’t watching. The corner of my mouth twitches up, and I can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. You couldn’t resist, could you? Even when you didn’t know it, you were drawn to me.

This proves it. We’re connected. Whether you want to admit it or not, you feel it, too. I wasn’t wrong.

I glance up from the phone, just for a moment, to see you watching me, your eyes wide, terrified. You have no idea how much I know, how deep inside your world I already am. I almost want to say something, to tell you how this photo means something. How it confirms that we’re meant to be. But I stay silent, letting the moment stretch between us, savouring it.

I keep scrolling. And that’s when I find them.

The unsolicited photos.

You thought you were careful, that you’d buried them in your messages. But nothing stays hidden from me. A flood of messages from random men—pathetic, desperate attempts to get your attention. Men sending you things you never asked for. 

Filth. 

Unworthy of even a glance from you. The sheer arrogance of it, the entitlement, makes my blood simmer. How many of these men thought they had a chance with you? That they could own a piece of you like I do?

One particular message stands out. A man whose name I don’t recognize, someone you’ve never mentioned. He’s sent you photos of himself, explicit, disgusting. And you—you didn’t block him. You didn’t stop it.

I stare at the messages longer than I should, the jealousy curling tight inside my chest, sharp and poisonous. These men, they think they can have you, that they can come into your life with their disgusting offers and expect something in return. You might not have invited them in, but the fact that they’re here at all makes me sick.

You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me to take care of this for you.

I glance back at you, still handcuffed to the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks, and I wonder if you even understand what’s happening here. These men, they aren’t a part of your life anymore. I won’t allow it. You’re mine now. Completely. There won’t be anyone else.

I keep scrolling through your messages, and that’s when I find something else.

A text thread with your friends. The casual banter, the kind of stuff you think I don’t care about. But buried in there, a series of photos you sent them. I pause, my heart speeding up as I open them. 

It’s me, of course. 

One picture in particular stands out—a shot of me shirtless in the kitchen, cooking you breakfast. The light catches my body just right, every muscle defined. And your caption underneath?

“Okay, so you can’t see his face but look at this man. Just look at him.”

You wanted them to see me. To know what you had. You wanted them to be jealous. And they probably were. I smile to myself, imagining the envy your friends must have felt, knowing that you had me, knowing they couldn’t. It’s perfect. You knew I was perfect for you.

I scroll further down the thread, and that’s when I see the message that makes me pause, my breath catching in my throat.

“You guys, I swear to god… he’s so good in bed, I think I’m addicted. Like, I don’t even know how to describe it. I’m wrecked in the best ways.”

Addicted. Addicted to me. And you thought I wouldn’t know. You thought you could hide that, that you could pretend to push me away when deep down, you crave me. You need me.

I can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across my face as I look back at you. You’re trembling, still terrified, but you don’t understand that this—this fear, this desire—it’s all part of the same thing. You don’t have to run from it anymore. From me.

I scroll just a little further and see the final blow. Another photo. This time, it’s intimate. Private. A photo you snapped of me sleeping on top of you, my body nestled against yours, my head buried in the crook of your neck. The angle is careful, my face mostly obscured by my dark hair, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness in that moment. I can feel the warmth of it through the screen.

And then the message beneath it.

“Okay, don’t judge me, but… when Bucky speaks Romanian when we do it... it’s so hot. Like, I can’t even handle it. I don’t even want a kid but I'll carry his kids. Fuck. He’s so hot.”

I feel something inside me snap—not with anger, no, but with something far deeper. You want this. You want me. You’ve been telling your friends, letting them know how much you crave me, need me, even if you didn’t say it out loud to my face. But now? Now I know. And there’s no denying it anymore.

I set the phone down on the edge of the bed and lean closer, my voice low, calm, almost affectionate. “You know,” I murmur, “I never realized how much you needed me. But now I see it. Now, it all makes sense.”

You flinch, pulling back as far as you can, but there’s nowhere to go. Not from me.

“What should you post tonight, hm?” I ask, my tone conversational, like this is any normal evening between us. 

The horror in your eyes is enough to confirm it—you finally understand. You’re not going anywhere.

Because you’re mine. And no one—no one—is going to take you away from me.

× × × × 

I bring the dinner to you, carefully plated, as always. Presentation matters. Even now, when you’re too stubborn to appreciate it, too blinded by your own misplaced anger to see that this—this—is still me taking care of you. 

I set the tray on the bed beside you, the smell of the meal filling the room. You’ve always liked the way I cook, haven’t you? I remember how you used to smile, used to praise the smallest details, like I was doing something so special.

But now, you sit there with your jaw clenched, body stiff, refusing to look at me, refusing to even acknowledge that I’m here, still trying to make sure you’re okay.

“You’re going to eat,” I say softly, but there’s a firmness beneath the words. It’s not a request, not a suggestion. I’ve been patient with you—so patient. But you’re pushing me now, testing the limits of my control, and we both know that can only last so long.

You scoff, turning your head away from the food like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’m not your prisoner, Bucky. You can’t force me to do anything.”

The defiance. That familiar fire burning behind your eyes. I should be frustrated, I should be angry, but honestly? I find it... cute. You’re still trying to fight me, still clinging to the idea that you have some say in this. I lean closer, my hand resting gently on the bed beside you, my voice dropping just enough to let you know I’m not here to argue.

“You are going to eat,” I repeat, my tone calm but unyielding. “Because I’m not going to let you starve yourself.”

You snap your head back to me, your eyes flashing with rage, and for a second, I see the storm building in you. 

“You can’t make me,” you growl, and it’s almost laughable—the way you think you still have control, still have some semblance of power in this situation.

Then, without warning, you spit at me.

The action is so quick, so fueled by your desperation, that for a moment, I’m surprised. The spit lands on my cheek, sliding down slowly, almost in slow motion. And there it is. The fight. The fire. The part of you that still hasn’t fully surrendered.

You tense, your body going rigid, your breath caught in your throat as you wait for me to explode, for the rage to consume me and lash out. This is the part where you expect me to lose it. To become the monster you’ve built up in your head.

But I don’t.

I freeze for just a second, letting the anger stir inside me, feeling it twist and coil. But then, instead of reacting the way you expect, I chuckle. A low, quiet laugh, the sound barely audible over the storm outside. I don’t wipe the spit away. I just sit there, letting it cool on my cheek, my lips curling into a small, almost amused smile.

“I like this,” I murmur, my voice calm, disturbingly calm. “This fight in you. It’s… adorable.”

You flinch, recoiling slightly as you realize I’m not going to snap. I’m not going to lose control, because unlike you, I’m not driven by desperation. I don’t need to. No, I have all the control I need, right here, in this room, with you handcuffed to that bed. I can see it in your eyes—the confusion. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect me to remain calm.

I lean in just a bit closer, my face only inches from yours now, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can push me, don’t you? That if you fight hard enough, I’ll lose control. But that’s not going to happen. You’re not going to break me. You can’t.”

You’re trembling now, the tears welling up in your eyes, but I don’t feel pity. No, this is something else entirely. This is... satisfaction. You want to fight, but you’re scared, too. And that mix? That’s what makes this so interesting.

I straighten up, slowly wiping the spit from my cheek with the back of my hand, my eyes never leaving yours. “Go ahead. Keep fighting. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still in control. You’ll still eat. You’ll still do what I say.”

Your lip quivers, but you remain silent, glaring at me with all the defiance you can muster. But I can see the cracks forming. I know that deep down, you understand.

“Now,” I say, standing up and moving back toward the corner of the room, watching you carefully. “When you’re ready to eat, the food will be here. And I’ll be right here, too. Always.”

I sit back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, my eyes never leaving you. You still think you can win this. But you can’t. You never could.

And the fact that you haven’t realized that yet? Well, that’s just adorable.

× × × × 

Your POV

The next day.

You wake up to the steady drum of rain against the window, still unrelenting, like the world is stuck in an endless loop of storm and shadow. The room is dim, gray light filtering in through the heavy clouds outside, casting long shadows that stretch across the floor. Something’s different, though. You blink slowly, trying to clear the haze of sleep.

Your wrists. They’re free.

No cuffs. No cold metal biting into your skin. You sit up cautiously, the blankets tucked around you. . . comfortably. Like some twisted lullaby, as if you’d been tucked in after drifting to sleep in the middle of a nightmare.

And the first thing you notice? Bucky isn’t here.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your body still stiff with the memory of yesterday, the taste of panic still lingering like bile in your throat. 

You scan the room carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements as if you might wake the predator lurking nearby.

The chair he always sits in—the one where he watches you—is empty. No sign of him. No footsteps, no steady breathing that you’ve come to expect as the constant reminder of his presence.

Where is he?

The food tray from last night is gone. Cleared away. The bed you’re sitting in feels too normal, too cozy, like some trap waiting to spring. You can’t trust it. You can’t trust anything. Your eyes move to the door. It’s slightly ajar, just a crack, and there’s an unnerving stillness in the air. The house is too quiet.

You slide out of bed, your bare feet sinking into the carpet. Your muscles are tense, ready, every nerve on edge. 

You step closer to the door, careful, listening for anything—footsteps, breathing, a creak of the floorboards. Nothing. Just the sound of the rain.

Your hand touches the doorknob, ready to push it open, when you hear it—a soft thud from down the hall.

Your body freezes, every muscle tensing as you strain to hear. The sound is subtle, distant, but unmistakable. A shuffling, like something—or someone—moving just out of sight.

He’s close.

You open the door cautiously, peeking out into the hallway. It’s dark, barely lit by the gray daylight seeping in from the windows. The house feels alive, as if the walls themselves are watching, breathing. The unease settles in your stomach, cold and heavy. You swallow, your throat tight, and take a step forward.

Another noise. A door creaking open further down the hall.

Your breath catches. Your feet hesitate. But you move forward, each step more careful than the last. Your heart races, every instinct screaming for you to turn around, to hide. But you can’t. You need to know where he is.

And then, you stop.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and there—just inside—you see him.

Bucky.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his back to you. His hands are braced against the counter, his head slightly lowered, as if he’s… thinking. You freeze in place, watching him, your body paralyzed by the tension hanging thick in the air. He doesn’t know you’re here, not yet. He hasn’t heard you.

You could run. You could turn around right now, slip back into the bedroom, and pretend you never saw this. But something about the way he’s standing there—so still—keeps you rooted to the spot.

He moves.

Slowly, he straightens, his shoulders rising as he takes in a deep breath. He turns his head slightly, just enough that you catch the edge of his profile. And then, he speaks.

“I know you’re awake.”

Your stomach drops, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

“I was waiting for you,” he continues, his voice smooth, calm, like he’s talking about the weather. “But I guess you were planning on coming to find me instead.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding in your ears as he turns to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a calmness in his expression that unnerves you more than anything else. He isn’t angry. He isn’t surprised.

He knew.

He knew the whole time.

× × × ×

The moment his eyes meet yours, you don’t think—you bolt.

Your feet barely hit the ground as you turn and bolt down the hallway, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, the sound of your breath ragged in your ears. Every muscle in your body screams to run, to get as far away from him as possible. You know he’s behind you. You can feel it, the tension stretching between you like a taut wire, ready to snap. But you don’t look back. You can’t.

The stairs are ahead, a sharp descent into the unknown, but they’re your only option. Your hand grips the bannister as you take the steps two at a time, your mind racing just as fast. You can hear him moving behind you, not in a rush, not in a panic. No, his footsteps are casual by the way they echo in the hallway above.

You hit the ground floor, your bare feet slipping on the cold tiles, but you manage to catch yourself. You have to hide. You have to be smart. If you don’t, he’ll catch you, and you know exactly what happens if he does.

You dart around the corner, your eyes scanning the room desperately. The house feels like a maze, twisting, unfamiliar. You’ve been here before, but in the haze of fear, everything feels different, distorted. You spot a door—a small one, leading to what looks like a pantry—and no hesitation you dash inside, pulling the door shut behind you.

Darkness swallows you whole, your back pressed against the wall, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your shaky breath. 

The air feels thick in the tiny space, every sound amplified. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you try to force yourself to stay calm. Think, think, think.

The silence stretches out, so thick you can almost hear it. And then—

You hear him.

His voice, soft, almost melodic, drifting through the house like a twisted lullaby.

“Y/N…”

Your body goes rigid. He’s calling for you, like this is some kind of game. A cat and mouse game. He’s playing with you, drawing it out, savoring every second of your panic.

“Where are you?” His voice echoes through the house, sickeningly sweet, and you can hear the smile in it, the amusement. Like this is a joke. Like you, running is nothing but entertainment for him.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, trying to think of what you can do next, but every plan, every thought dissolves into pure terror as his footsteps get closer. The sound of his shoes on the floor is slow. He’s not in a rush. He knows you’re here. Somewhere.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

He sings your name again, drawing it out, each syllable rolling off his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of it. You bite your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, your hands trembling as you clutch the inside of the door. You can’t breathe, can’t move. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode in your chest.

You hear him moving through the house, his voice drifting through every corner, getting closer, then further away. 

“You know I’ll find you…” His words are light, teasing, but beneath them lies something dark, something terrifyingly final. “I always do.”

His voice drifts through the hall, teasing, playful, as if this is all just fun for him. The sound of it makes your blood run cold, but you don’t move. You can’t. You tell yourself to stay calm, to think, to be smart. He wants you to panic. He wants you to break. Don’t.

The footsteps draw closer. You hear the soft creak of the floorboards just outside the door, and your body goes rigid. You can feel him on the other side, waiting, listening. You brace yourself, every nerve in your body on edge, ready for him to rip the door open and drag you out.

But he doesn’t.

There’s a long, agonizing pause. You hear him exhale softly, almost as if he’s amused. His presence lingers there, so close you can feel it through the door. The seconds stretch on, unbearable.

And then, he moves. The footsteps retreat, growing fainter, until you hear them no more.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. You wait, your body coiled tight, every muscle aching with the tension. 

He’s gone, you tell yourself. He walked away. 

You listen carefully, straining your ears for any sound—nothing. Just the rain. He’s somewhere else in the house, looking for you.

The silence presses down on you, thick and suffocating. You tell yourself you have to move, that this is your chance. You wait a minute longer, then two, your hand still covering your mouth as you count the seconds. 

He’s gone. He’s not there anymore.

Finally, you exhale slowly and shift your weight, your legs cramped and trembling from holding still for so long. You push the door open an inch, peeking out into the hallway.

Empty.

The hallway is bathed in pale, gray light from the rain-soaked windows. No sign of him. Your pulse hammers in your ears, but you push the door open fully now, stepping out as silently as you can manage. The house feels too big, too quiet.

Maybe I can make it. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

You take a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the empty corridor. Another step, careful, quiet. The air feels cold against your skin, the house eerily still, like the eye of a storm.

You glance in both directions. The hall is empty.

He’s gone.

You make it halfway down the hallway, moving toward the back of the house, your breath coming in shallow huffs. You take a step, then another, your movements calculated and soundless, trying to map out your escape. Each second feels like a victory, a step closer to being free of him. You are smarter than him. You can outthink him.

As you move, you walk backward for a moment, keeping your eyes on the hallway behind you. You don’t trust it—why would you?—so you check, making sure he isn’t sneaking up on you. Your back presses against the wall for stability as you inch toward the exit, ready to make your move.

And then—you feel something.

Something warm. Something solid. Your entire body goes rigid as you feel it—him.

You freeze, terror gripping you before you even have a chance to process the situation. Slowly, painfully slowly, you turn your head, knowing exactly what you’ll see.

Bucky.

He’s standing right behind you, closer than you ever imagined he could be, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady. How did he move so silently? How did he manage to be right here, right on top of you, without a single sound?

Your heart slams against your ribcage as you try to pull away, but his hand is already on your arm, gentle but firm, holding you in place. The smile on his face is unsettling, a mixture of amusement and something far darker. He knew. He always knew.

“You were trying to sneak away, weren’t you?” His voice is soft, too soft, like this is all just a lighthearted conversation between two people who aren’t trapped in a nightmare. “I could feel it.”

His fingers tighten around your arm, not painfully, but just enough to remind you that he’s not letting go. That he sees you, even in your cleverness, even in your silence.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I like that. But quiet doesn’t mean I won’t find you.”

“I was just…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, but it catches in your throat. You can feel him watching you, his eyes scanning your face, reading every thought before you’ve even formed it.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone almost playful, like he’s toying with you, like this is nothing more than a game. His fingers brush your skin, tracing lazy circles, and it sends a wave of nausea through you.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mind is racing, but the words won’t come.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against the side of your neck, and you can’t stop the way your body tenses, every nerve screaming with terror.

“I told you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the rain. “I’ll always know where you are.”

Your breath catches, and you feel his hand shift, sliding down your arm, fingers curling around your wrist. He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you, suffocating.

You want to scream, to pull away, but you know it won’t do any good. You’ve been clever, careful—but not enough. You underestimated him.

You force yourself to breathe, to think through the thick fog of panic that clouds your mind. Every instinct screams at you to do something, anything to get away, but Bucky’s grip is firm, his presence all-consuming. His hand is still around your wrist, holding you in place, as if you belong here. As if there was never a question of where you should be.

“I see that look,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the sound of the rain. “You’re thinking. Calculating.”

You swallow hard, your heart slamming against your ribs. Of course, you’re thinking. You’re always thinking. You’re looking for the smallest crack in the situation, the tiniest escape route. But he knows. He sees it in you.

“You always think you can figure me out, don’t you?” His breath tickles the side of your face, and you flinch, trying to pull away even though you know it’s futile.

Your mind races, but his presence is like a cage, keeping you trapped, making every idea seem impossible. You can feel the tension tightening, every second a countdown to whatever he’s planning next. His thumb moves in circles over your wrist, a gesture that might seem comforting if it weren’t so... controlling.

Then he releases you.

The sudden absence of his grip is jarring. You stumble backward a step, your body instinctively retreating, but you catch yourself before you fall. You stare at him, shocked that he’s let go, that he’s giving you space.

Bucky just smiles, watching you. He's toying with you, letting you think you have a chance when deep down, you know he’s still in control.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice soft and measured. “But you have to stop running. You’re making this harder on yourself.”

Your skin prickles with dread as you try to process his words. He’s letting you go, but it’s not real freedom. It’s a leash—an invisible one, stretched just enough to let you feel like you’re in control. But he’s still holding the end of it, ready to pull you back the moment you step too far.

You stand there, frozen, every muscle in your body screaming to run, but your mind knows better. He’s faster than you. Stronger. More dangerous.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to make a move, to see what you’ll do next. And you know, whatever you do, he’ll be ready.

“I can wait all day,” he says, tilting his head slightly, as if he’s genuinely curious about what you’ll choose. “But you won’t make it far.”

Your mouth goes dry as you take a shaky breath, your eyes darting to the door, the only possible exit. The rain is still hammering down outside, loud and relentless, but it’s the only thing between you and whatever comes next.

But you know if you run now, it’ll be exactly what he wants.

So, you make a decision.

Instead of bolting, instead of giving in to the panic rising in your chest, you take step forward. Toward him.

His eyes flicker with something—surprise? Amusement? You can’t tell—but it doesn’t matter. You’re not playing the game the way he wants you to anymore. You’re taking control, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Then stop pretending this is some game,” you say, your voice steady, even though you feel anything but. “What do you want?”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance you just created, and you can feel the tension coil between you again, tighter than before.

“You know what I want,” he says softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You don’t dare break it, waiting for him to speak, to reveal the thing that’s been lurking in the shadows between you both since the moment you met. The way he’s looking at you now, with that dark, unreadable intensity, makes your skin crawl. Your question hangs in the air, and you can’t tell if he’s stalling, or if he’s just savouring the moment—savouring you.

Then he leans in, just a fraction closer, his voice lowering to that chilling, intimate whisper that makes every nerve in your body scream for you to run.

“What I want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “is simple. I want you to stop fighting it. To stop pretending this isn’t what you need. What you want.”

You stiffen, your pulse skyrocketing, because it’s not the answer you were expecting. There’s a raw edge to his words, a dangerous undertone that tells you he’s been thinking about this for a long time—planning it.

“I want you to see that this, us—” he gestures vaguely between you, his eyes never leaving yours—“is inevitable. You can run, hide, resist, but you’ll always end up right. back. here.”

You feel a chill run through your veins as his words sink in. He doesn’t just want to keep you here, doesn’t just want your compliance. He wants your submission. He wants you to accept this twisted reality he’s created, to fall in line with whatever fantasy he’s been building in his head.

Your breath hitches, but you manage to hold his gaze, even as your mind reels with panic. 

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. “This isn’t love, Bucky.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says softly, his smile returning, more dangerous than ever. “But I know you, Y/N. I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. And you can’t hide from the truth forever.”

“I know what you need,” he whispers, his voice softer now, almost... tender. “And when you finally stop running, when you stop fighting it, you’ll see it too.”

Your chest tightens, your mind racing to find something—anything—to say that might break this twisted spell he’s trying to weave. But you know, deep down, that no matter what you say, he’s already convinced himself that this is real. That you are his.

And that’s when it hits you.

What he wants isn’t just to keep you here, to cage you like some prize. He wants you to choose it. To accept him, this situation, this twisted version of love he’s built in his mind. He wants you to believe it, to fall into his arms willingly.

But you won’t. You can’t.

“I’ll never give you what you want,” you repeat, your voice defiant, even though the fear tightens in your chest. “I’ll never see this the way you do.”

For a moment, the silence between you thickens. You think maybe he’ll finally snap, maybe this will be the moment he loses control. But instead, his smile deepens, and the amusement in his eyes takes on a sharper, more sinister edge.

“Is that right?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “Because, according to your texts... that’s not what you’ve been telling your friends.”

Before you can even process his words, he’s already pulling out your phone again, holding it between you like a trophy. His thumb glided over the screen, his eyes flickering with the satisfaction of someone who’s about to wield power in the most insidious way.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” he murmurs, not even looking at you as he pulls up your messages. “Ah, here’s a good one.”

He clears his throat theatrically before reading aloud, his voice dripping with false amusement. “He’s got this look when he’s on top of me. Like, I swear, it could melt your soul. I think I’m done for.”

Your stomach turns as the words leave his lips, each syllable twisting into something vile as he quotes your own words back to you. You remember sending that, of course. You’d been giddy, drunk on lust and naivety, texting your friends in a moment of bliss that feels a lifetime away now.

Bucky’s eyes flick to you, watching your reaction with that same unsettling calm. “Done for, huh?” he teases. “That’s not exactly the defiance you’re showing me right now.”

You clench your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breath, but he’s already scrolling again. His thumb pauses, and he smirks as if he’s found something even better.

“Oh, this one’s great,” he says, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Is he big?” he reads with a dramatic pause, glancing at you. “Girl, you have no idea. Let's just say I’m not getting out of bed anytime soon.”

Heat floods your face, not with the memory, but with the sheer horror of hearing him say it out loud. Your body goes rigid as the humiliation washes over you, but Bucky—he just chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he says, the smugness in his voice unbearable. “It’s good to know I’ve been leaving an impression.”

He swipes again, his smirk growing. “Let’s see... oh, what’s this?” His voice takes on an almost sing-song quality as he reads the next one. “He’s so attentive, it’s like he knows what I want before I do. Honestly, I think he’s perfect. He’s in my head, like... all the time.”

Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to look at him, your heart thundering in your chest. He’s savouring every moment of this, twisting your words into a weapon, using them to deepen his control over you.

He steps closer, eyes glinting, before reading the next one. “There’s something about him... something that makes me feel like I could lose myself. In a good way. Like, I don’t even care anymore. I just want him.”

He leans in, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers, “You just want me, huh? It seems like the girl who wrote this was much more open to the idea of us.”

You jerk your head away, disgusted by how easily he’s taken everything private, every vulnerability, and turned it into another chain to bind you with. You grit your teeth, but he’s still scrolling.

“One more,” he says with false sweetness, pausing for effect as he reads the final message. “I think I’m falling for him. For real. He’s just... I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, like no one else ever has.”

He lets the words hang in the air, his smile fading just a little as he watches your reaction.

“And that,” he says softly, “is the part I like the most.”

His voice lowers, his face inches from yours now. “You felt safe with me. And you know why? Because deep down, you want to. You want to believe I’m the one who can protect you, give you everything you need. And I will. You just have to stop fighting it.”

Your stomach twists as his words sink in, as he lays bare the twisted reality he’s built around you. He wants you to choose this, to let him be the one who controls everything. And he’s using your own desires, your own words, to manipulate you.

Your pulse is pounding in your ears, his infuriating chuckle echoing through your bones, and you can’t stand it anymore. The phone—the embodiment of everything he’s stolen from you—dangles just out of reach, held by his towering frame like it’s a toy, a prize he knows you can’t win.

Your teeth grit, hands curling into fists. The room feels like it’s shrinking, the air too thick to breathe. He’s mocking you. Smiling. Enjoying this.

“Give it to me!” you spit, your voice sharp and desperate, the words cutting through the tense air like glass.

His smile widens, the amusement in his eyes deepening, like your demand only adds fuel to his fire. He raises the phone higher, just enough to make you reach again, to make the gap between you and your freedom feel all the more impossible.

“What was that?” he teases, voice calm, soft—almost too soft. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

You take a step forward, pushing against his chest with all the force you can muster. “I said give it to me!” You try to leap, your fingers brushing against the edge of the phone, but he pulls it back effortlessly, his hand now resting on your waist as if steadying you—as if you need his help.

His chuckle rumbles low, and it makes your skin crawl. “Y/N…” he says, dragging out your name, the amusement thick in his voice. “You really think you can just take it? Like it’s that simple?”

You shove harder against him, your breath coming in short, angry bursts, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, but his hand stays firm on your waist, not letting you get any real distance. “It’s mine! You don’t get to—”

Before you can finish, you jump again, practically climbing him in your attempt to grab the phone. You’re fully pressing against his chest now, using every bit of strength you have, your body coiled with frustration and fury as you reach for the device. But it’s no use. His arm is longer, his height an insurmountable barrier.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that insufferable grin, his free hand catching your waist to stop you from going any higher.

“Keep trying, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your skin as you struggle. “But you’re not going to get it.”

His voice is patronizing, soaked with amusement, and it only makes you more desperate, more furious. You plant your feet harder, pushing up with all your strength, but he doesn’t even move. You’re climbing a wall that won’t budge, and the realization stings.

“Give. It. To. Me.” Your voice is tight, angry, each word spat out through gritted teeth as you dig your nails into his arm, still trying to claw your way up, but the phone remains out of reach.

He’s barely even trying to stop you, just lifting the phone higher, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he holds you in place. His chuckle deepens, a low rumble of satisfaction.

“Why are you fighting so hard for something that’s already mine?” he asks, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “These words... you gave them to me. You already handed me your trust.”

You try to twist out of his grasp, your breath catching in your throat, but his hand stays firm, his body unyielding.

“You don’t own me,” you snap, your voice shaking with both rage and humiliation. “You don’t get to decide—”

His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you back down to the ground, your feet slipping on the floor as you stumble back, breathless and furious. He pockets the phone slowly, as if to remind you that it’s not going anywhere.

His eyes meet yours, dark and amused, his voice low and taunting. “Oh, I’m not deciding anything,” he murmurs, his smile twisting. “You already did.”

Bucky stands over you, tall and unyielding, his shadow looming, making the space around you feel smaller, tighter. His lips curl into that same infuriating smirk, the one that makes your blood boil and sends a thrill of something you don’t want to acknowledge coursing through your veins.

“Asshole,” you mutter again, glaring up at him, refusing to let him see the fear—or worse, the heat—burning inside you.

His eyes gleam with amusement. He kneels slowly, bringing himself to your level, but still towering over you in that way that makes you feel completely trapped, even as you’re free to move.

“What was that?” he asks softly, his voice barely a murmur, though you know he heard you the first time.

You hate how your body betrays you, hate that he knows it too. You bite your lip, trying to steady yourself, to not let him see how much he’s rattling you. But he’s watching you, every small movement, every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. 

You try to push yourself away from him, to put some distance between you, but his hand tightens on your waist, just enough to keep you in place. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear now, sending a jolt of something electric through your body that you wish wasn’t there.

“I said you’re an asshole,” you snap, louder this time, your voice sharp and angry. 

He chuckles, low and dark, and the sound makes your skin prickle with a mix of fury and something you don’t want to acknowledge. 

“I like it when you fight,” he murmurs, his voice soft and teasing, his breath warm against your neck. “It’s cute.”

The heat of his breath on your skin makes you shudder involuntarily, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the way your body reacts to him. You want to shove him away, to regain some semblance of control, but your body feels frozen, caught between the urge to push him back and something else entirely. Something you refuse to admit is there.

“Let me go.” you manage, but your voice falters, quieter than you intended, betraying you.

He doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand slides up your side, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingers brush against your ribs, the touch light but possessive, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really want me to?” he whispers, his lips now barely an inch from your neck. His words send a shiver racing through your body, and you grit your teeth, determined not to let him see how much he’s affecting you.

“Bucky...” you start, trying to sound firm, trying to hold onto the anger that’s slipping through your fingers, but your voice falters as you realise how close he is, how the heat between you is suffocating.

He smirks again, his thumb brushing over your waist in a way that sends an involuntary tremor through you. “You can say my name all you want,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes your stomach twist. “But we both know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Your body tenses at his words, both from the insult and the way his hand moves, as if he’s unravelling you, piece by piece. You try to pull back again, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you that you’re not going anywhere.

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” you snap, trying to regain some ground, some sense of control.

He chuckles again, that same low, maddening sound that sets your nerves on edge. 

“I know more than you think,” he says, his hand moving higher, his fingers brushing against the curve of your ribs now, his touch sending sparks through your skin. “You’ve been trying to fight this from the beginning, but we both know where this is going.”

The space between you is shrinking, the heat between your bodies unbearable, and you can feel the tension pulling you in, your body betraying you in the worst possible way. You bite your lip, trying to focus, to remember why you hate him, why you should be pushing him away. 

But he’s so close now, his lips barely a breath away from your skin, and you can feel his words more than hear them as he leans in, his voice a whisper that sends a tremor through your entire body.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck, and for a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe, as the world narrows to just the two of you.

You should push him away. You want to push him away. But instead, you’re sitting there, heart racing, torn between the anger burning inside you and the heat building between you. And Bucky knows it. He sees it in your eyes, in the way your breath catches, and that only makes his smirk grow wider.

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, your fists clenching as you fight the urge to react, to give him the satisfaction. But the tension between you is unbearable now, suffocating, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep fighting it.

Bucky tilts his head to the side, his eyes dark and hooded, slowly drifting down to your lips. His lips are so close to yours now, hovering millimetres away, teasing you, taunting you with the possibility of something more. 

But he doesn’t close the gap. He just hovers there, waiting, watching your reaction, drawing it out. His smirk deepens, satisfied, as if he’s savoring the way you’re teetering on the edge, caught between your instinct to pull away and the pull of something undeniable between you.

Your mind races, the rational part of you screaming to shove him away, to stop this before it goes any further. But your body—your traitorous body—responds to the heat between you, every nerve alight, betraying the internal conflict waging within you. 

"You're holding back," he whispers, his voice low, taunting, the words vibrating in the air between you. His breath brushes your skin, so close you can almost feel his lips move against yours, but still, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of closing the distance.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to keep your expression defiant. “You think I’m just going to give in?” you uttered firmly.

Bucky’s smirk grows. He’s not just playing with your emotions; he’s studying you, every breath, every reaction.

“I think you like this,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as silk, the words wrapping around you, making it harder to breathe. “This tension between us, this fight. You crave it.”

His lips are so close you can almost taste the heat of him, but he continues to hold back, leaving you on the brink, trapped in the space between resistance and temptation.

“You’re wrong,” you manage, though your voice falters slightly, betraying you. You hate that he’s gotten this far, that he’s managed to chip away at your defenses, but you refuse to let him see just how much he’s affecting you.

“Am I?” he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours you can barely stand it. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, but still, he keeps you waiting, holding you in this unbearable tension.

He leans in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice a soft murmur. "I can feel it, Y/N. You're on the edge. Just let go."

Your heart pounds in your chest, every 

Bucky watches you for a moment longer, eyes narrowing as if he’s weighing your silence, calculating your resistance. Then his smirk returns, a little darker this time, as though he’s decided something in that moment.

"You’re going to see it my way," he murmurs, his voice low, full of certainty. "And I’m going to prove it to you."

His arm wraps around your waist firmly, and before you can react, you’re lifted off the floor. Your breath catches as he throws you over his shoulder with ease, like you weigh nothing. You let out an involuntary gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at his back, trying to steady yourself as your body hangs over him.

“Bucky!” you protest, your voice sharper now, but it’s drowned out by the sound of his footsteps as he starts walking back toward the stairs.

“Shh,” he says softly, his tone almost playful, but there’s an edge to it, a finality that makes your stomach twist. “You’ll thank me later.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you’re carried back toward the bedroom. You push against his back, but his grip doesn’t loosen, and the casual strength he holds you with only makes your pulse race faster.

You struggle against him, trying to twist out of his grasp, but he only tightens his hold, his voice calm, unbothered. “Fighting me only makes it harder for you, Y/N.”

Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he carries you up the stairs, the panic and tension growing with each step. You know where he’s taking you, and the thought of being trapped in that bedroom again sends a chill through your body.

“Put me down!” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear, but Bucky only chuckles softly.

“Oh, I will,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. 

You feel your body shift slightly as Bucky pushes open the door to the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and your heart pounds in your ears as you realise there’s no escaping him now.

"Put me down!" you demand, trying to keep your voice steady, though every fiber of your being is on high alert.

Bucky throws you onto the bed with effortless strength. The world spins for a split second, and you land with a bounce, the mattress swallowing your weight. You gasp, disoriented, struggling to regain your composure as you push yourself up on your elbows.

Bucky stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with that same infuriating confidence, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction.

"You—" you start, the anger rising in your chest, but before you can finish, he interrupts you, his voice filled with mock innocence.

“What? You told me to put you down,” he says, shrugging casually, as if tossing you onto the bed was the most natural thing in the world. His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it—a dark undercurrent that makes it clear he’s still fully in control.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, caught between the absurdity of his reply and the tension hanging thick in the air. His casual playfulness only heightens the unnerving sense of power he holds over you, as if even your resistance is something he finds amusing.

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to let him see just how rattled you are. “You know exactly what I meant,” you snap, keeping your voice firm, even as your pulse quickens under his unrelenting gaze.

He tilts his head, feigning innocence again, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. “I just follow instructions, doll,” he says, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes tell a different story—dark, dangerous, and full of intent.

You sit up straighter, fighting the feeling of vulnerability that creeps over you, and meet his gaze with unwavering defiance. "You’re not as clever as you think," you say, keeping your tone sharp.

His smirk widens, and he steps closer to the bed, his movements slow, he’s savoring the tension between you. "Oh, I think we both know how clever I am," he replies, his voice dropping to a smooth murmur. 

You sit up slightly, propped on your elbows, your pulse quickening as he approaches. Bucky moves swiftly, his hands coming down on either side of you, caging you in. His body looms over yours, and the mattress dips under the weight of him, pinning you in place. 

The sudden proximity steals the breath from your lungs, and your eyes dart up to meet his. The intensity of his gaze hits you like a physical force, his pupils are blown wide, dilated. His face is so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his presence suffocating, overwhelming.

He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

You’re hyper aware of everything—his hands gripping the mattress on either side of you, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the intoxicating scent of him invading your senses. 

You try to look anywhere else, anywhere but where his gaze is leading you. But it’s impossible. His stare pulls at you, like a gravitational force, dragging you into his orbit. And all you can think about is how close he is. Too close. Your heart thuds in your chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in the silence between you.

Your eyes flicker—just for a second—down to his lips.

You curse yourself instantly for it, but it’s too late. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His smirk deepens, barely perceptible, but you feel it like a jolt of electricity. That knowing look, that arrogant satisfaction that he’s in control, and you’re fighting a battle you can’t win.

You force your eyes back up, meeting his once more, desperate to regain some sense of control, some measure of defiance. But the tension between you is unbearable now, thick like a vice tightening around your chest. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving only the charged space between your lips, the millimeters separating you from him.

Every nerve in your body is on edge, bracing for something you’re not even sure you want to resist.

Bucky leans in just a fraction more, his lips hovering so close to yours that the distance is almost unbearable. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, and for a moment, you’re not sure if it’s your heart or his that’s pounding in your ears.

You try—desperately—not to look at his lips again, but it’s like trying to ignore gravity.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The silence is louder than any words he could say. You know what he’s waiting for. He’s waiting for you to break, to give in to the pull you’ve both been fighting for what feels like forever.

Your hands clench at your sides, every muscle in your body tight with the effort of holding back, of not giving in to the dangerous allure of his proximity. But it’s so hard to breathe, so hard to think when he’s this close, when his eyes are this intense, when his lips are right there, almost touching yours.

And just when you think you can’t hold out any longer, that you’ll snap under the pressure of the moment, Bucky’s voice cuts through the silence, low and husky, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your lips, sending another shiver down your spine. “Don’t look away.”

You think about defying him, about turning your head and breaking free from the suffocating tension. He was on top of you, all that hard muscle pinning you down to where you couldn’t move. You could feel him everywhere, especially his cock, which was thick against your belly. Fighting him only turned him on, and now you were thinking about sex.

And you hate that he’s right.

Just when the air feels too thick to breathe, he pulls away.

The shift is sudden, leaving you lying there on the bed, breathless and confused. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you can’t quite make sense of what just happened. One second, he was so close—too close—and the next, he’s stepping back, putting space between you.

You blink, trying to catch your breath, your mind scrambling to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that have left you dizzy and disoriented. The heat from his body lingers on your skin, but his absence feels colder than you expected.

Bucky stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, his face now unreadable. The smirk is gone, replaced by a cool, detached expression that makes your stomach churn. It’s as if the moment you shared—the one that left you teetering on the edge—never happened. His eyes, once dark and intense, are now distant, cold.

“Be a good girl and stay there,” he says, his voice flat, authoritative. There's no teasing in his tone now, just a command.

The words hang in the air, and you find yourself frozen, unable to move, unsure whether it's from the weight of his command or the confusion swirling in your chest. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that he’s pulled back, leaving you stranded in the wake of something you didn’t quite understand—and maybe weren’t ready for.

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't check to see if you’ll obey. He simply turns, walking away, leaving you lying there on the bed, torn between the need to push back and the sinking realisation that he’s still in control, no matter how much space he puts between you.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

There’s a moment when power shifts—when control is no longer just something you hold, but something you feel, deep in your bones. I see it in your eyes, the flicker of confusion, of vulnerability, as I step away from the bed. You think you understand what’s happening, that you have a handle on your own defiance, but the truth is, you’re already exactly where I want you. And isn’t that the beauty of it?

The tension between us was intoxicating, wasn’t it? The way you looked at me, fighting the pull, the temptation, the inevitable. I gave you space to breathe, to think. But now, it’s time to decide what comes next.

I step out of the bedroom, the door closing behind me with the softest click. You probably think this is your moment to regroup, maybe catch your breath, wonder where I’ve gone. But, let’s be honest, I’m never really gone, am I? I’m in your thoughts right now, circling your every breath, every heartbeat, while you lie there and try to pretend you can fight this.

I move down the hallway, not in a hurry. I savor this, the anticipation hanging in the air between us. When I reach the room, it’s quiet. Still. Organized. Everything in this space has been meticulously laid out, prepared for this moment. Choices, all of them deliberate. I don’t rush this, because why would I? I like to take my time. And you? You’ll feel that patience in every step I take.

I look over the table, where everything is waiting. The blindfold catches my eye first. Simple, soft. It’s always the smallest things that strip away the most control, isn’t it? You rely on your sight, that sense of security you have when you can gauge what’s coming, what I’m doing. The blindfold removes that. You’ll be left with nothing but the sound of my voice and the weight of your own breath. Your heart will race faster the moment it goes dark. You’ll feel it—your world narrowing, closing in.

But there’s more. My fingers brush against the bed restraints. These are designed to remind you of something fundamental: the boundaries I set are not negotiable. No matter how hard you might try, these restraints are proof that you’re not getting away. You’ll strain against them, at first, testing your limits, feeling that surge of defiance before you realize just how futile it is. That moment, when your body gives in to the restraint—that’s when you’ll understand that the control was never yours to begin with.

I pick them both up—the blindfold in one hand, the restraints in the other. But before heading back to you, I stop, glancing at myself in the mirror in this room. The tension in the air, the power of what’s coming next, calls for something more. Something raw. I remove my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air hits my skin, but it does nothing to temper the heat building inside. This isn’t just about control anymore; it’s about presence. Dominance.

× × × × 

YOUR POV

The door creaks open slowly, and you’re already on your feet. You don’t know what your plan is—if you even have one—but lying there, waiting like some docile thing, that’s not you. You can feel the tension in your legs, every muscle taut as you stand by the bed, trying to control your breathing, trying to look like you’ve made a conscious decision, even though the truth is, you don’t know what you’re going to do next.

And then he appears.

Bucky steps back into the room, shirtless. His bare chest catches your eye, the light cutting sharp angles across his skin, emphasizing every line of muscle. For a moment, it steals your breath. Not because of how he looks—but because it’s another calculated move. He’s always thinking, always pushing, and now this is about more than just words or actions—it’s about his very presence. It fills the room, like he’s claiming the space itself.

Your eyes instinctively flick down to his hands. He’s holding something—dark fabric and... yes, restraints. The blindfold dangles from his fingers, the soft black material barely catching the light. The restraints, sleek and unyielding, swing lightly from his other hand.

And then he notices you.

He stops, just inside the doorway, and for a moment, the air between you shifts. His eyes darken, and you catch the subtle frown that pulls at the corner of his mouth as he takes in the fact that you’re no longer on the bed. The smallest hint of irritation flickers across his face, quickly replaced by that cool, composed exterior. But it was there. You saw it.

Good.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he considers you, and for a moment, neither of you move. It’s a silent standoff, and you can feel the weight of his disapproval pressing against you. 

But then, a slow, exhale leaves his lips, and his expression shifts. He takes a step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His frown is gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.

“You’re out of bed,” he says, his voice low, calm, but there’s an edge to it, as though he’s daring you to explain. “Lie down.”

You don’t. You stand your ground, refusing to retreat, even though your pulse is hammering in your chest. You know this won’t change the inevitable, but you’re not going to make it easy for him. 

“Don’t fight me,” he whispers, his voice low and smooth. “It will be easier for you if you don’t make trouble.” 

“But I like trouble,” You said without thinking.

You hadn’t thought about how this would come across, though. Your vpice thick with defiance, you realize what you’ve done. You’ve just challenged him. Again.

His expression went hard, a little scary. “I will give you the count of three. If you’re not in bed before then, there will be consequences.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. He isn’t bluffing.

Your gaze flickers down to his hands, and you see them—the blindfold, the restraints. He’s holding them loosely, his fingers flexing as if he’s already deciding exactly how to use them. 

“One. . .”

He takes a step forward, his eyes locked on you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. You feel your pulse spike, But you stand your ground, glaring back at him, the fire of your own defiance still flickering even as fear claws at your throat.

“Two. . .”

The sound of the second number sends a rush of panic through you. He’s not going to wait much longer. You know that. But you can’t bring yourself to back down.

“Three.”

The word comes out soft, but the weight behind it is crushing. He doesn’t give you time to react. His hand moves in a blur, reaching for you, and before you can take a breath, he’s closed the distance between you, his grip firm but not painful as he grabs your wrist.

The blindfold and restraints in his other hand hang there, a silent threat, a promise of what’s to come.

“You made your choice,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, his face inches from yours, and the dark amusement in his eyes is gone now. “Now, you'll have to deal with the consequences…” He pauses, his gaze flickering over you, and a wicked smile curls on his lips. "And trust me, sweetheart, you're going to feel every single one of them."

And you know, as he pulls you toward the bed, that this game is over.

But the consequences? They’re just beginning.

“No!” you grunted, you bucked and kicked out with your legs, hoping like hell you caught him in the junk, “Get off me!”

Bucky barely flinches, his grip tightening as he maneuvers effortlessly to pin you down. The way he handles you—strong, unyielding—sends a fresh wave of panic through your body.

“Nice try,” he mutters, his voice calm, controlled, that terrifying composure still in place. “But it’s going to take a lot more than that to stop me.”

His hand moves swiftly to your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with ease. You feel the smooth leather strap, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s threading it through the buckle.

You buck again, a surge of panic flooding your chest, but his knee presses firmly into your legs, pinning you down. He moves quickly, efficiently, pulling your arm to the side as the leather restraint tightens around your wrist with a sharp pull.

The soft creak of leather is the only sound as he secures the second strap to your other wrist, buckling it in place, leaving you spread wide, helpless. Your chest heaves with the effort, but it’s too late—the leather holds fast, unyielding.

"See?" he says, his voice low, that dangerous smile tugging at his lips again. “You can fight all you want, but it’s only going to make this more interesting for me.”

“I hate you!”

He didn’t answer as he strode toward the end of the bed. His strong naked chest was distracting in the greyness of daylight, with a myriad of scars and rough marks criss-crossing his skin like a road map. This was a cruel man, unyielding and unafraid of violence.

You pressed your lips together when he produced a set of the same restraints at the foot of the bed. 

Oh, shit. 

Bucky grabbed your ankle and worked the cuff over your foot. 

“You don’t need to do this,” you rushed out, bargaining.“I’m not going anywhere.” Thanks to the wrist restraints.

The cuff pulled tight on your right leg. Satisfied, Bucky moved to the other side and you started taking deep breaths, fighting the urge to kick and fight. What was he planning? Why did he need you spread-eagle on the bed?

When you were tied down, he climbed onto the bed, his muscles shifting as he crawled between your thighs, and your nerves twitched and twisted in your belly. This wasn’t good.

He stops in front of you and slips the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. Your breath hitches, and you feel a surge of panic rising in your chest. You try to pull away, he grabs your chin, holding you in place. 

You can feel the heat of him, the way his body is so close to yours, and it makes you feel trapped, helpless. Every sense is heightened now that you can’t see. Every sound, every movement, every touch feels amplified, and you hate it. You hate how vulnerable you are.

With a swift, almost ruthless motion, Bucky grabs the delicate fabric of your nightgown, and in one clean, forceful pull, it rips in half. The sound of the tear echoes through the room, loud and raw, the fragile material giving way under his hands. The shredded pieces dangle from his fingers for a brief moment before they fall to the floor, discarded. 

His palms slid up your thighs and under your nightie and goose bumps broke out all along your skin. “Should I let you come, little girl?” he says, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear. 

Heat bloomed in your pussy, those words charged in ways you couldn’t begin to unpack. Was he really going to play the daddy card right now? Fuck. It was like he could see into your mind on how best to manipulate you. 

“Don’t,” You pleaded, not even caring that you sounded weak.

He pushed your panties to the side, gently tracing your entrance with his middle finger. “Just as I thought. Wet.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked your arousal off. “You like that, when I call you little girl.”

“No, I don’t,” You said, your chest heaving with the force of your breath. “You don’t need to do this.” 

“Do you ache inside?” He slipped his finger directly into your channel, pressing deep until he was completely seated. Then he curled his finger, hitting a spot that you'd sworn was an urban myth.

Your back bowed off the bed, limbs pulling tight against the restraints, and you bit your lip to stay quiet. You did not want to think about how good any part of him felt inside you, how that finger wasn’t nearly enough. 

“Please,” you panted, not sure what you were asking for. He pumped his hand, the friction both delicious and frustrating. Then he added another finger, going slow until it was in, and you whimpered. He’s playing with you, you know it and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“You can feel it huh?” He said, “Your pussy is sucking in my fingers. So greedy. Don’t worry. I am going to take very good care of you.”

You held your breath. You didn’t know what was about to happen. You only knew it was going to be bad. If he teased you, it would be awful. Worse than awful. If he actually pleasured you, if you surrendered to him, it would be humiliating. He would gain the upper hand, and that was what scared you most. 

Licking you dry lips, you forced out, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Let me take care of you instead.”

He pumped his fingers lazily, in and out, in and out, dragging against your sensitive tissues. You inhaled sharply, the pleasure streaking through you like lightning. 

“Hmm keep telling yourself that.” He said like he doesn’t believe you, because he actually doesn't.

Your body strained toward the source of that bliss, chasing it and making a liar out of yourself. 

“Yes, I do. If you just—please—don't.” You could barely keep track of the conversation as he fucked you with his fingers.

“Hear how wet your pussy is for me?” The slick sounds filled the bedroom and you wanted to die of shame. He chuckled.

“Go fuck yourself!” you snapped, hoping your words would have some bite.

“Why would I? When you're right here, dripping and ready for me?” Bucky murmured, then flicked his tongue unexpectedly over your clit. You tried to keep your expression from revealing anything you were feeling, but when he twisted and pumped at the same time, you moaned deep in your throat.

Then he started eating you out. He licked and sucked like you were a meal and he was starving, his attention focused on your clit, swirling and sucking, and you suddenly knew what you had been missing out on all these years. Using the flat of his tongue, he massaged your clit, then drew it into his mouth to suck on it, again. At the same time, he strummed your clit with his tongue, rubbing and pressing. Bucky mastered your body in seconds, like some sort of pussy wizard, because you were instantly on the verge of coming. Your thighs started shaking and your lungs couldn’t pull in air.

And he stopped. 

You gasped, lurching, you tried to bring yourself closer to where you think his face is, where his breath felt hot. You could feel him smirking.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

Your thighs are trembling now, shaking in that way that tells me you're teetering on the edge, every muscle in your body straining. I watch, fascinated, as your lungs struggle to pull in air, your body begging for relief, for release. 

And then, I stop.

You gasp, a desperate sound, your body lurching as you try to chase what I've just taken from you. You try to bring yourself closer, your movements frantic, instinctive, as if by sheer will alone. Your head turns, your lips parting, reaching for where you think my face is—where my breath felt hot against your skin moments ago.

But I don't move. I smirk, watching the way your body fights itself, craving more but knowing I control every last part of this moment. 

"You're so predictable," I murmur, my voice low, almost mocking, but there's a darkness in it that lingers. "Always wanting more... always needing to be just a little closer, don't you?”

I run my hands down your sides, feeling every tense muscle beneath my fingertips, relishing the way your body responds to even the lightest touch. You arch, trying to make contact, to feel something—anything. But then, my hands lift off you, and the absence of touch sends a ripple of frustration through you. I can feel it, the tension mounting, the need rising higher. 

I reach across for the bullet vibrator, my fingers curling around the small device. I press the button, the faint hum vibrating in my hand as I adjust it to the lowest setting. The sound is barely audible over your labored breathing, but you know. You feel what's coming next. 

I lean down, my lips brushing your ear, my breath hot against your skin. "You know how this works," I whisper, my voice soft, almost tender. "I decide when. I decide how much. And you? You're going to beg for it." 

You can feel the vibration ever so slightly as I circle the air above your lovely hard nipples. I massage the bullet extremely gently around the outer edge of one of your nipples and then do the same with the other. I move it in slow circles, like a promise I’ve yet to fulfil. I can see the way your body responds—tense, trembling, straining for something more. 

“You feel that?” I murmur, my voice a low rumble in the quiet room. “Just enough to drive you insane, isn’t it? Just enough to remind you that I hold everything you want in the palm of my hand.”

You shudder, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body arching slightly as you try to press closer to the source of the vibration. The frustration is written all over your face, and it’s beautiful, so beautiful. I watch you, drinking in every inch of your reaction, savouring the power I have over you in this moment.

“You love it,” I whisper, my breath brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “You love that you can’t control this. That I can make you beg for something as simple as this.”

“Just... do it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with frustration, but there’s still a spark in it, something stubborn. “Stop playing games.”

I chuckle softly, amused by your words. Stop playing games? Oh, but you and I both know that this is the game, and you’re playing it just as much as I am. You’re caught between wanting more and hating that you have to ask for it, and that’s what makes this so deliciously satisfying.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, lowering the vibrator just a little, letting it barely skim the surface of your areola—just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy. “You think you’re ready for more? You think you deserve it?”

You grit your teeth, trying to stay composed, but I can see the cracks forming. The frustration, the need. It’s all there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Please…” you whisper, barely audible, and there it is—that hint of desperation I’ve been waiting for.

I smile, triumphant, and press the button to increase the intensity just slightly, letting the vibration pulse more firmly against your breast. 

“That’s better,” I murmur, my voice low, “But I’ll need more than that if you really want it.”

You gasp, your body reacting to the sudden change in sensation, your breath hitching as you bite back another plea. And I know, without a doubt, you’ll give me what I want.

You bite your lip, stifling another sound as the vibrations skate across your skin, and I watch with fascination as you try to maintain your composure. Your chest rises and falls with each laboured breath, but you’re still clinging to that last bit of resistance. You haven’t said it.

The word. The name.

I let the silence stretch out between us, the vibrator humming softly against your nipple, just enough to keep you on edge but nowhere near enough to tip you over it. You know what I want, and I know you’re holding onto it. That delicious defiance. The last weapon you think you have.

But I have all the time in the world.

“You’re holding out,” I murmur, my voice soft, almost a purr. “I can feel it. You’re so close, but you’re fighting it. Why?” I bring my face closer, my breath hot against your neck as I whisper, “You know what will get you what you want.”

You’re fighting me, refusing to give in to the game. I can almost see the wheels turning in your mind—I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Say it,” I murmur, my lips brushing your ear now, the vibration of the toy a steady hum against your skin. “You know what I’m waiting for. Just say it, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your lips part, and for a second, I think you might give in. But then, through clenched teeth, you growl, “I’m not saying it.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused by your defiance. You’re trying so hard to resist, even though your body is betraying you, trembling under the light touch of the vibrator.

“We both know you want to say it, go on,” I whisper, my voice soft, dark, full of promise. “Say it. Say what I know you’re dying to say.”

You want to give in, but you’re too proud to make it easy. And so, in the smallest, most defiant voice, you mutter, “I don’t need to say it.”

I chuckle softly, shaking my head as I pull the vibrator away for a moment, denying you the one thing you want most. 

“Oh, you’ll say it,” I say, my voice calm, certain. “Because you know that’s how you get what you need.”

I reach down, pressing the button again, increasing the intensity just a little more. I bring it close, hovering over your skin but not quite touching. The tease. The torment.

“You want Daddy to make it better, don’t you?” I finally whisper, my voice almost a growl, low and intimate, right at your ear.

You think you can outlast me. You think your silence is some kind of victory, but I can see right through you. The stubbornness is admirable, really. I almost want to let you hold onto it for a little longer. Almost.

But then again, why deny myself the pleasure of watching you break?

I lower the vibrator back down, this time pressing it directly against your nipple—not the teasing, ghosting touch from earlier, but real contact. You moaned, your body arching against the restraints as the sudden sensation hits you, and I press the button again, increasing the intensity. The vibrations pulse through you, low and constant, just enough to drive you crazy.

To see you this turned on and into it at this early stage makes me want to burst. I continue to tease your nipples with the bullet, making you wriggle with pleasure as you lean your head back into the pillow. I watch your beautiful face intently as the vibrations gently massage your nipples—you look amazing— radiant, sexy, fuckable—and I am so excited to have you in this position—but I am taking my time. 

I want you to be wetter than you have ever been, have more orgasms than you have ever had and have you moaning more than you have ever moaned.

I lean in, my mouth hovering near your ear, my breath hot against your skin. “You’re close to saying it,” I whisper, my voice low, knowing. “I can feel it. You’re just one word away.”

You grit your teeth, trying to hold on—the way they’re starting to lose focus, the way your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. You’re teetering on the edge, and you know it.

I smirk, watching you struggle, your body trembling under the relentless vibrations, your mind fighting the inevitable. 

“Still not saying it?” I ask softly, almost amused. “You think you’re winning by holding out? By staying quiet?”

I tilt my head, studying you, and then my hand moves—slow, deliberate—between your thighs. Whike gently stroking the vibrating bullet down the side of your body, making you wriggle. As I get to your hips, you open your legs further, wanting the vibrations on your clit. I stroke the bullet up from your hip and across the top of your beautifully shaved pubic line, as you thrust your crotch forward, wanting it. 

I resist the urge to give you what you want immediately—instead lightly running the bullet down the side of your pussy, being careful not to touch your luscious pussy lips. I position myself in between your legs as the bullet gets closer and closer to your clit. As it edges nearer, I see your pussy glisten from its wetness—oh my God it looks amazing and I love how you have your legs open, allowing me to see it all. How I want to devour it, again—but there is something you need to say first.

You whimper, your body shaking, your breath ragged. I can feel it—you’re so close to giving in.

And then, just as I feel you start to unravel, I pull back. I stop everything. The vibrator, the pressure—it all stops.

You gasp, your body lurching forward, desperate for the sensation to continue. You try to press closer, try to make contact, but I keep my distance, pulling away just enough to leave you hanging in agonising anticipation.

Your body trembles, your frustration spilling over as you try to catch your breath, and I know you’re about to break. You need this, and you know it.

I lean in, my lips brushing your ear, my voice soft but commanding. “Say it,” I murmured, the final push. “Say it, or I’ll stop this right now. I’ll leave you like this, desperate, aching, with nothing.”

Your breath hitches, and I can see the war playing out in your mind. The defiance, the pride—it’s all crumbling beneath the weight of your need. You’re trembling, your body screaming for more, and you know I have the power to give it to you. But you have to say it.

“Say it,” I repeat, my voice a low growl. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

For a moment, I think you’ll hold out just a little longer. But then, with a trembling breath, you whisper the word, barely audible, the last piece of your pride shattering. The bullet is now hovering just above your clit and I slowly press down—I smile satisfyingly and your legs open up further to reveal your lovely wet pussy.

“Daddy…”

I smile, victorious, and without hesitation, I press the vibrator back against you, harder this time, increasing the intensity, my hand moving in sync with the relentless pulse.

“There we go,” I murmur, my voice dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

The sight is driving me mad—but I am focused on giving you as much pleasure as you can handle. I slowly rub it up and down your clit as the vibrations run through you. You slowly lift your hips forward, wanting the vibrations lower down, which I oblige. The bullet is edging closer to your glistening pussy—but then I reach across and spread your beautiful lips apart with my fingers—and start to brush the bullet up one and then down the other, in circular motions. This is driving you wild as it edges closer to entering you. I move the bullet down ever so slightly so it is resting, waiting to go in—but then move it all the way up to your clit.

The fact you don't know what's coming next is driving you mad—which makes you look even sexier, if that is possible. You’re at the mercy of what comes next, and the fact that you can’t predict it is pushing you to the edge. You hate it, don’t you? But it also pulls you in. It makes you irresistible.

I go to the next level of vibrations and flick the bullet down from your clit, entering you ever so slightly and then move it back up to your clit, vibrating all of your core. As I do this, you open your legs further, now fully relaxed and turned on and let out a sexy moan—wanting more and more. 

All that fight, all that defiance, just to end up here? It’s almost poetic. It makes me wonder—how will you explain this to your friends? Will you tell them how easily you gave in, how all that stubbornness melted away? Or will you keep this secret tucked away, something only we’ll know?

For the first time, you try to move your arms down to control the pleasure—but then realise you are tied up and I am in control, and let your arms drop behind agan. It's at this point it is time to take it up a level.

You've always been a freak, haven’t you? I saw the signs, the little hints you thought were so subtle. Makes me wonder if this whole act—the defiance, the resistance—is just your way of pretending you aren’t begging for it. You don’t want control, not really. You want to be pushed to the edge, and I’m more than happy to take you there.

I turn the bullet off, giving you some relief from the pleasure for a few seconds - then lean forward and kiss the inside of your left thigh—moving across to the right thigh—but pause over your wet pussy—my mouth just millimeters from your glistening lips—and let out a breath of excitement that you can feel—then move to your right thigh and kiss the inside.

Jesus—if only you could see yourself right now. I almost want to take a video, something to remember this by, a little keepsake of how you look when you finally let go. And then I remember… your phone’s already in my pocket.

I hover over you, taking my time, savoring the moment. With careful precision, I pull it out and position the phone in just the right angle, the best view of you—completely vulnerable, completely mine.

Maybe you’ll watch this back later. Maybe you’ll see yourself the way I see you now—completely undone, stripped of that defiance you cling to so desperately. It’ll be a reminder, a little piece of this moment that you can never escape. And I’ll watch you realise, all over again, how much you need me.

You shift beneath me, your breath shaky, and then, through the haze of tension, your voice breaks the silence. “What are you doing?” The blindfold makes your tone sharper, more vulnerable—unsure of what’s coming next.

You can’t see me, but I know you’re feeling everything. “Tell me,” you whisper, almost a demand, though your voice trembles at the edges. Even blindfolded, you’re still trying to cling to some control.

“Is that how you ask?” I reply, my voice calm, but with that edge of authority you’re trying so hard to ignore. You tense, knowing exactly what I’m getting at, but you’re stubborn, always trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

I lean in closer, my breath warm against your ear. “You know what I want to hear. Try again.”

Your lips twitched what I think is annoyance, “Daddy, please tell me what you’re doing.”

I lean in, my breath barely brushing your ear, “You want to know what I’m doing? I’m setting your phone right here,” I say, patting the bedside table. “Perfectly positioned. Just in case you want to watch this later—see how you look when you let go.”

You shift beneath me, tense, trying to decipher every sound, every movement. “I want you to remember exactly what happens next,” I continue, my fingers trailing lightly down your side. “Because you asked for this. And now, you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

You are aching for more—so I reach for the wand, turn it on and apply it directly to your clit, sending new sensations through your body. I am moving the wand back and forth from your clit to your juicy pussy, vibrations covering all of you. As I move it all around your beautiful pussy, I can hear and see how wet you are. The circular motion around all of your pussy is taking you to orgasm—but then I stop suddenly, and you catch your breath. 

“No!” you shouted. “Don’t stop. Oh, God.” 

I pressed a kiss to your thigh. “Beg me, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.” 

“Why are you doing this to me? You fucking psychopath!” 

I know you were right there, hovering on the edge, air sawing in and out of your lungs. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. You wanted to claw my face with your fingernails. I know you’re wanting to crawl into my lap and ride my cock to orgasm. 

“Those are not the words. Try again. “Say it and I’ll let you come.”

It is now time to up it again, so I squeeze some pleasure gel in my hand and smother the top of the wand in it. I then grab the bullet and rub more pleasure gel on that too. I now have the wand in one hand and the bullet in the other both vibrating and ready to make you cum. I press the wand gently onto your clit as the bullet slowly enters you, making you take a deep breath and blurt out

“Fuck, Daddy—Please make me come.”

From the look on your face and the words coming out of your mouth, I know you are in ecstasy and it makes my cock throb so much. I ask you to tell me how it feels and you say ‘Amazing, Daddy, please don't stop, I love it.’ Your words and sounds as you take the pleasure turn me on so much.

My eyes darted towards the camera, my eyes communicating: Are you watching? Do you hear yourself?

Your legs are fully open now as I continue to work the bullet in and out of you slowly and the wand on your clit. You are so wet so I decide to switch things up—I take the bullet and gently rub it up and down your clit whilst pointing the wand directly at your pussy. I start to slowly push the wand head against your pussy lips and flick it up and down, the dual vibrations sending you into a frenzy. Oh my God—you look sensational, irresistible—I am in total ecstasy just watching your reactions to the vibrating and your orgasms. 

Your legs, spread apart more, trembling mote, and as I slowly pull the bullet back, your pussy pushes it out and a squirt of your juices shoot out at me. I bet you heard yourself yelling as if from a distance, the high so unbelievably good, better than any drug you'd ever tried. It seemed to go on for days but was probably only seconds. As you came down, the shame crept in to replace the euphoria.

I have never heard or seen you do this before and it makes me even harder, if that is possible. It's like unwrapping a gift that you didn’t even know you wanted, but suddenly can’t imagine living without. I almost want to thank you for the privilege—almost. But that would ruin the moment, wouldn't it?

I slowly start to pull the bullet back again, and it happens again—your beautiful pussy pushes out the bullet and squirts your juices all over my hand. I can now see a wet patch underneath you, which drives me wild. The sight of you orgasming, squirting and gushing is almost too much. I wave the wand all around your soaking wet pussy, juices gushing out of you as I do. I turn the bullet and wand off and just sit there looking at your pulsating and dripping wet pussy and then your gorgeous face as you recover. I am in total awe—

I glance down at the mess you’ve made, my lips curling into a slow, almost proud smile. “Well, would you look at that,” I murmur, teasing, with a hint of mockery. “Miss perfect, always so put together, now completely… undone.”

I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, enjoying the way you squirm at the sound of my voice. “It’s almost impressive, really. I never thought you’d let things get this messy. But here you are, all flustered and out of sorts. Makes me wonder if you secretly like it this way.”

I chuckle softly, pulling back just enough to see the reaction play out on your face. “And honestly? I think it's kind of adorable. Watching you, of all people, fall apart like this.”

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “I guess being a messy girl suits you.”

You grit your teeth, your voice dripping with frustration as you snap, “Fuck you.” The words hit the air like you’re hoping they’ll cut me, but all I feel is amusement curling in my chest, that familiar, sick satisfaction.

“Ooo, fuck me, huh?” I echo, my voice dripping with mockery, like I’m savoring the taste of your defiance. “That’s adorable. Are you giving me hints?”

You growl in frustration, the sound barely contained, your annoyance bubbling over. I laugh softly, watching you struggle against the moment. “Oh, don’t be mad. I’m just trying to keep up with your subtle suggestions,” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess someone’s a little touchy, aren’t they?”

The frustration in your eyes behind the black silk only makes the moment sweeter. You’re trying so hard to fight, to stay defiant, but I can see right through it. And it’s entertaining.

Without breaking my smirk, I glance over at the camera on the bedside, locking eyes with it for a moment, letting the weight of this moment be captured.

I turn my gaze back to you, the satisfaction in my smile only deepening. “See? It’s all right here, caught on tape. You’ll thank me for it later.”

I move myself upwards, leaning over you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you pant, every breath shaky and uneven. My fingers trace gently across your cheek, I lean in slowly, my lips hovering just above yours, my breath mingling with yours. I intend for it to be gentle, just a small taste of power, but then—you moved.

You push upward, taking control of the kiss, pulling me into it with a hunger I didn’t expect. For a split second, I freeze, caught off guard by the way you turn the tables, the way stuck your tongue down my throat passionately. 

You’re not just reacting. You’re taking.

I am taken aback as I thought you were recovering but then you whisper in my ear, “I need your cock in my mouth whilst you fuck me with the rabbit.” 

Insatiable. 

I’m frozen, my mind racing to catch up with what I just heard.

“Oh my god…” I murmur, half to myself, the disbelief quickly melting into a slow, satisfied smile. I pull back, just enough to look at you, the amusement and intrigue sparking in my eyes.

I shake my head slightly, chuckling. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” I pause, before I lean in close again, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

“But if you want that…” I tease, my lips brushing against your ear, “you’re going to have to say the magic word.” My smirk deepens, waiting for that final surrender. 

“Daddy,” you drawled so seductively, “Please put your cock in my mouth, I want to suck it while I come.” 

Music to my ears.

I lean forward and kissed you again, sucking on your tongue. I can see that you want your hands free to feel me, you can hear me unzipping my jeans, the sound of it makes you writhe with excitement—but no, you don’t get to have that privilege yet.

I move to the side of you, on my knees and reach back to get the rabbit, gently stroking it down your chest, in between your tits. As I get near your pussy, I squeeze some pleasure gel all over it and then turn it on, the ears and the shaft vibrating on the lowest setting. I rub the tip downwards on your clit, you tilt your head up as I move forward on my knees and your mouth is already open, waiting for it. 

Whilst you are waiting to taste my throbbing rock-hard cock, I slide the rabbit down further, gliding across your wet pussy lips and then I reposition it so the tip is resting against your pussy, ready and waiting to enter you.

As I move my hips forward slowly and my cock starts to enter your eager mouth, I do the same with the rabbit inside your pussy. Inch by inch my cock feels your mouth as the rabbit fills you. The slow rhythm of my cock sliding to the back of your throat and then to the edge of your lips is matched with the rabbit doing the same to your pussy—slow and gentle strokes, all the way in and then all the way out, just resting on your lips. The noises you make as the rabbit enters you fully, the ears vibrating your clit, are sensational and matched by the sight of your mouth wrapped around my cock and arms stretched across the bed, tied helplessly but taking all that I have to give.

You start to speed up sucking my cock, slurping on it, loving it filling your mouth  and this is my queue to match that speed and rhythm with the rabbit—you are so wet that it is gliding in and out of you. All the way in and then out again. Still not fast—but not slow anymore—as you rock your head back and then thrust forward, taking all of me in your mouth. You then slow down and lick around my tip, and I do the same with the rabbit, just the tip rubbing around your open pussy. Then you push forward and take my cock, upto my balls, all the way in your mouth and I slowly push the rabbit all the way in you—as far as it can go, the ears in perfect position to stimulate your clit again. You hold me there in your mouth, not moving at all, and I do the same with the rabbit. This is so passionate and sexy—I could shoot my cum down your throat now—but no way. 

I continue to match your speed and rhythm with the rabbit, letting you have some control. But now it's time for me to take that control back—and taste your smooth, shaven, delicious pussy. So I slowly and gently slide the rabbit out of you as I also pull my cock out of your mouth. As both leave you, you let out the most gorgeous and sexy moan, and—

Was that a smile?

Oh, I saw it. You tried to hide it, but there it was, slipping through for just a moment. And honestly? That’s a huge turn-on. 

I move to the end of the bed, in between your legs, my mouth inches away from your amazing pussy. I can't tell you how gorgeous it is—the mere sight of it makes me want to come. I push your knees as far apart as they can go to admire your soaking wet pussy. I can see your clit bulging, wanting attention. I can see your lips slightly spread apart and shining from your wetness. I follow your lips down, drinking in this magnificent sight —until my eyes lock on to your pussy, which is aching to be filled.

I slowly edge my mouth close to you, and then take one giant lick, from the bottom of your pussy to the top, with the whole of my tongue.

“Oh my f—uck,” you arched wildly against the restraints. You’re so sensitive now, “Bucky—Daddy. . .”

"Please," you whisper, your voice shaky, hesitant, like you’re not sure if you should even say it. But you do. And it’s music to my ears, “I want you. . .”

I tilt my head slightly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, baby,” I murmur, my tone dripping with amusement, “you want me? I think I need a little more than that.”

I watch you squirm, enjoying every second of your hesitation, savoring the way you’re trying so hard to find the right words. “Come on now,” I add, my voice soft but laced with command. “I need to hear exactly what you want. You’re already begging—why stop there?”

I chuckle lightly, leaning in closer. “Let’s not play shy now, not after how far you’ve come.”

Using my thumb and finger on each side, I prize open your pussy lips. You are so open and I can see you pulsating. You push your buttocks into the mattress, which elevates your pussy ever so slightly—meaning my tongue is at the exact height and pointing directly at you. 

“Your cock daddy. . .please, I need to feel you inside me.”

I chuckle, “Soon, my good girl.”

I push my head forward until my tongue enters your pussy, your juices flowing out either side of my tongue. They taste amazing as they ooze into my mouth. I didn’t stop, either, fucking you with his tongue, growling as I held your legs open as wide as they would go. 

“You are so wet,” he snarled. “I fucking love it!” 

“So good,” you muttered, long past the point of coherence. “Yes, it’s so good.”

The corners of your mouth lifting as you let out a satisfying smile, your hands gripping the slack length of the restraights tightly. The whole sight of you, as well as your wetness and taste is utopia—I never want this to end.

× × × ×

YOUR POV

After a few more thrusts of his tongue, he shifted to you clit, but there was no teasing this time. He licked you ruthlessly, relentlessly, until you began shaking, your hips rocking as you chased a second orgasm. You nearly levitated off the bed when it finally crested, your body splintering apart into a million pieces, destroyed. 

“James!” You screamed his name and strained against the ties holding you down as it went on and on, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

The sudden yank of the blindfold pulls you from the haze you’ve been drowning in. Light filters in slowly, and your vision, still blurry from the darkness, begins to sharpen. The world starts to come into focus, and your eyes immediately lock onto him.

Bucky came up on his knees and began furiously jerking his cock, eyes hooded, mouth hanging open as he grunted. His gaze locked on your swollen pussy until his movements grew uncoordinated, his hips stuttering, and hot jets lashed all over your belly and chest. Like he was marking you. 

Oh my god—did the camera catch that?

He squeezed to get every drop of come out of his dick and onto your body, then sat on his haunches, chest heaving. You were covered in him, the liquid cooling on your bare flesh. Pleasured and used by the last man you should ever be attracted to.

Now he was stroking his dick again, the muscles in his arm flexing as he pumped that giant rod between his legs. God, he had a gorgeous cock and you felt an answering tug in your lower half.

You watched his fist squeeze the head of his cock. A bead of moisture appeared on the tip and he used his thumb to smear it all over the head. You inadvertently licked your lips, missing his taste, and waves of heat rolled through your limbs, settling in your core.

“You like watching me work my cock?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, as if he already knows the answer.

“No.” you said stubbornly.

He tilts his head slightly, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. “I’m starting to think no means yes.”

Bucky moves closer, and despite every ounce of stubbornness in you, your body betrays you again. It’s like your body is inviting him, reacting on instinct, craving what your mind is still refusing to admit. Your pussy was swollen, slick. Primed for sex.

“Deschide larg picioarele pentru mine. Mică târfă.” You heard Bucky growl in his throat.

“What?”

“Open your legs wide for me, little slut.”

God, you wanted to hate him for that, but a blast of heat tore through you. 

“Jesus,” you whispered as you widened your legs slightly. “You’re such a dick.” 

“Hmm. Do you like to be called names, Y/N?” He let go of his cock and placed his hands on either side of his hips, displaying himself for you. “Do you like your hair pulled? Do you like to wear a man’s come on your face?”

Shit, when he asked those things in his low Romanian-accented voice, it sounded like pure sex. No doubt Bucky fucked like a beast, rough and dirty. He hadn’t shown you that side of him yet. The men you had been with treated you politely, like you were made of glass. 

“Is that what you like to do to women in bed?”

Ignoring your question, he stared at your body, placing himself between your legs. “I wish you were sitting on my face right now. I would lick you and bite you, suck on your clit until you passed out. I want to pull on your skin with my teeth until it stings, then make you come so hard you squirt all over me.”

You stared at his wide cock, which jutted out proudly from his body, bobbing in his movement, with its smooth skin and veins along the side. You imagined that thickness drilling inside you, splitting you in half and filling you up. Your pussy clenched around the emptiness and you moaned.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” 

You licked your lips as you stared at his erection, too turned on to lie. 

“Yes.” Bucky raised his brows, “. . .Daddy.”

He grabbed himself again, strong fingers wrapping around the shaft as he pulled, teasingly rubbing his head against your tender pussy.

“I would fuck you so good. Deep and hard. I would give you all my come, everything I am saving up in my balls just for you.” 

“God, don’t you ever shut up?” Your legs were shaking, your movements uncoordinated because you were so turned on. So close. So needy. 

“And you’ll take it, yes?” he continued, clearly not caring that this was a one-sided conversation. “I have never seen a woman so hungry for it. Didn’t those boys in Hollywood know how to fuck you? I bet they left you unsatisfied.”

Fuck why is he dragging this out so much?!

Hands resting on your thighs, you began crooning, “Can’t you see how wet I am, Daddy? Can you see how turned on I am by watching you jerk that big cock of yours? I bet you have to use lube when you fuck, you’re so big. Do the women scream when you’re pounding inside them? Do you make them bleed, leave their pussies raw?”

“That fucking mouth,” Bucky murmurs, a low, satisfied growl escaping as a slow grin spreads across his face. The crown of his dick dragged against your entrance, teasing, and you actually tilted your hips, eager for the invasion. “That’s it. You’re ready for me.” 

You were beyond denial, beyond caring. “Yes,” you admitted to him. 

“Show me. Take me inside.”

This was so dirty. So wrong. Yet your body was humming, almost burning alive with lust. There was an embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs, more than you would’ve thought possible considering the circumstances.

You adjusted your hips, seeking, and the head of his cock slipped inside you. Fuck, yes. You didn’t stop, continuing to rock your hips, writhing underneath him, to bring him deeper. You were wild for it, desperate to reach the finish, toward the explosive orgasm you knew awaited you. 

“Shh,” he said in your ear. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He took over then, but pressed in much slower than you expected. The beginning had been about domination and strength, but now he invaded so carefully, like he wanted you to feel every twitch and tiny movement. 

This was almost seduction, and it was worse than the chaos of moments ago. But there was no stopping it. You craved this, needed it. With a growl, he gave a final thrust of his hips and filled you completely, and the air left your lungs in a rush. He was hot and hard and so big, his dick impaling you, with the heavy weight of his body and restraints preventing you from moving. All you could do was lie there and take it. 

Which made it a thousand times hotter. 

“Fuck,” he said on a long exhale, then whispered a long string of another language that sounded both bewildered and excited.

Ragged breaths gusted against your cheek as he began to move, his hips meeting your pelvis. “You are mine, Y/N. Until I decide otherwise this pussy belongs to me.”

You couldn’t respond, because his dick was destroying you in the very best way. You loved the way he felt inside you, like there was no room for anything else. No insecurities or worries, no past or future. Just this, right here. Perspiration coated your skin and he surrounded you, his cock pounding, pounding, pounding into your body. The pleasure built and you closed your eyes, focusing on the orgasm just out of reach.

The sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing filled the room. He fucked you like it was his purpose in life, completely dedicated to the task and never slowing down for a second. With every savage thrust you slid a little on the mattress, and you were so close to coming, your muscles clenching and straining . . . . 

“You belong to me. Say it, doll.” 

The words twisted inside you, driving you higher, and the walls of your pussy contracted around his cock. 

“Fuck!” he grunted. “Do that again.”

You squeezed around him once more, and he groaned. “Tell me. Let me hear you say it.” 

His fingers slid between your body and the mattress, moving lower until he found your clit. He rubbed you in tight circles. “Let me hear you say you belong to me.” 

The words fell from your mouth on a gasp. “I belong to you, Daddy.” 

Everything changed. He rode you even harder, without mercy, his fingers never leaving your clit, “Vino pentru mine, mica mea curvă frumoasă.”

Come for me, my beautiful little slut.

The combination of the words along with the stimulation became too much. Shocks raced up from your toes as the orgasm rushed over you. Your brain went offline, everything going blank for a long moment as the euphoria transported you into space. 

“God, yes! Oh, fuck,” you heard yourself shout from far away while you shook uncontrollably. When your climax finally ebbed, he moved to his knees, releasing your legs from the restraints and lifted your hips to change the angle. 

“Yes! Shove it deep, come inside me, Daddy.”

It allowed him deeper, and after a few pumps he swelled inside you, his hips stuttering just before hot jets of come filled your pussy. 

“Oh fuck, ah!” he roared, his fingertips sinking into your flesh. No doubt you would be covered in bruises tomorrow. That should’ve horrified you, but it didn’t. After a moment, his movements slowed but he kept rocking, his dick still pulsing inside you. 

“Take it all, baby,” he crooned and lowered to kiss your chest spine. “Take all of my come. You earned it. Ești o fată atât de bună.” 

You’re such a good girl.

Fuck, you wished he would stop saying things like that. You flushed from head to toe and basked in the praise. He continued peppering your skin with kisses, displaying a tenderness you hadn’t expected. You melted like hot candle wax on the floor.

“Ești frumoasă,” he murmured as he dropped kisses along your chest. “Ești perfectă.”

You’re so beautiful. You’re perfect.

You felt butterflies in the deepest pit of your stomach. You’re not supposed to like that but you do.

Big hands swept up your back and you felt free from your restraints completely and then over your hip as he lifted you, angling your face toward his. 

“I need you,” he whispered and kissed you.

You fell into the kiss eagerly, softening for him and letting him take your mouth. You could feel his urgency, his desperation, and it fed your own. His fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair to hold you in place as his tongue and lips devoured you. 

The kiss went on and on, and your body responded as it always did to this man, your pussy getting more wet and swollen. You loved the way he kissed, with such absolute force and reverence. Like he longed to destroy and cherish you at the same time. Your skin crawled with need, a thousand pinpricks that made you feel alive and powerful. Bold, as if you could do anything. 

You decided to take a risk. You flipped it around so now you’re on top. You started moving your hand south, over his ribs and down his abs. His mouth broke off from yours and he waited, his breath coming fast. He didn’t stop you, so you continued toward his crotch, and your palm skimmed his sweat-slick muscles. 

He was glorious, a marble statue came to life. 

You found his cock, thick and hard against his belly, and you gave it a gentle brush, a tease, before continuing to his balls. He grunted when you rolled and squeezed their weight with your fingers. Most men loved to have their balls played with, and Bucky was no different. 

He spread his thighs to give you more room and you caressed him, exploring. When your hand swept the length of his dick, he jerked and rocked his hips, silently asking for more. You stroked him slowly and he exhaled against your cheek, strong fingers digging into your skin, the room quiet except for both your breathing. 

You liked having him at your mercy for a change. Your lower half began to throb as you worked him. You knew what it was like to have this big dick inside you and your pussy was weeping for it. You weren't sure he’d allow you on top, but you really wanted to ride him just this once.

You slid your leg over his hips to straddle him. He held onto your waist and the feel of all his strength and power beneath you made your mouth water. His gaze was locked on your pussy as you grabbed his cock and lined him up at your entrance. You began feeding him inside, sinking down slowly, loving the stretch and burn as he took up all the space in your body. 

“Fuck, James,” You whispered, his full name falling from your lips while you paused to let yourself adjust. 

“Da, frumoasa mea fetiță,” he said softly, “Take me inside.”

A rush of arousal went through your core and he slid deeper. You gasped, hovering between pleasure and pain, and his thumb found your clit, rubbing and pressing. Tingles cascaded along the backs of your thighs, through your belly, and soon he was fully seated. 

Goddamn, he was a lot. 

You began slowly moving your hips, sliding his dick in and out of you while grinding on his pelvis. You clit dragged between you at the end of every stroke, and it sent streaks of white-hot need along your bloodstream. Though the room was dark, you locked eyes with him, and you could see the new arousal and possessiveness staring up at you. This felt so real. So intimate. Like he could see inside you, past all your deepest insecurities to your very soul. This is what he wanted.

You focused on your pleasure and churned your hips, loving the way his length tunnelled in and out of your channel, the friction unbelievably good. You tossed your hair and arched your back, giving him a show as you rode him. 

“God, yes,” you moaned. “I want to do this all day.” 

“Feel how hard I am?” His whisper filled your head like smoke, taking you higher. “That is all for you. Just you, comoara mea.”

The unguarded hunger and lust in his expression spurred you on, so you moved faster, and the bliss soon built and coiled inside you like a spring. When you placed your hands on his chest for leverage you half-expected him to shove you off, take over, and pin you to the mattress. Surprisingly he didn’t, so you dug your nails into his flesh, holding on as you continued to fuck him. 

“Oh, shit.” you eyes slammed shut. You were so close, the orgasm was right there. 

“Look at me,” he said sharply. “Look at me while you use my dick to get off.”

You did as he commanded, so you were staring at one another when you started to come a second later. The orgasm swept through you like a tsunami, waves and waves that chased everything else away. 

Your mind went blank, his beautiful face your only anchor as you trembled and shook. The walls of your pussy squeezed him in rhythmic pulses and his lips parted on a hiss. 

Before you’d even come down, he lifted you slightly and began pounding up from below. His feet were braced on the mattress, and each powerful thrust rocked the bed and sent the headboard into the wall with a bang. 

Bending, you placed your face directly above his, your mouths inches apart. You were close enough to feel his breath as he grunted and huffed. You don’t know what made me say it, but you started talking. 

“That’s it, daddy. Give me all of your come. Every bit of it, deep inside. Make me your good girl.”

“Fuck!” His body went taut beneath you, and you could feel him swell just before he flooded your insides again with hot lashes of his come. He held you still, his fingers clamped around your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises to add to the collection. 

“You are mine,” he ground out, his big body jerking beneath you.

Finally he sagged into the bed. You tried to catch your breath, your body sprawled on top of him like a rag doll. He was still inside you, and you could feel our sticky mess leaking out of you as he softened. 

He stared at the ceiling, arms wide, chest heaving, while sweat rolled down his temples and into his thick dark hair. You both stayed like that for a long time, neither of you speaking. You didn’t have a clue as to what to say. You felt destroyed in the very best way.

He dragged a hand down his face. Gently rolling you off to his side.

“Soak in the hot tub,” he said and pushed to his feet. “Otherwise you will be sore later.”

He didn’t help you up or even look in your direction. Instead, he jerked on some clothes and walked out of the bedroom, leaving you on the bed. Naked, filled with his come, and unshackled.

Your body still tingles from the aftershocks as you reach over to the bedside table, your hand trembling slightly as you grab your phone. Bucky had placed it there earlier, so casually, like it was just part of the routine. But now, the weight of it feels different, heavier.

You swipe the screen, the familiar glow illuminating the dimly lit room. Your thumb hovers for a second before you press play. The video begins, and there you are—captured in the heat of the moment, vulnerable, raw.

You feel a strange mixture of curiosity and disbelief watching yourself like this, seeing everything from a perspective that isn’t your own. Your breath catches in your throat as the sound of his voice, low and commanding, fills the room again. Each word, each movement, feels magnified, more intense than you remember.

As the video plays, you notice the moment when Bucky shifts, his gaze no longer on you but directly into the camera. That smirk, the one you’ve seen a thousand times, is aimed at the lens—not at you. For a second, it’s as if he’s performing for the camera, not for you, and the realisation sends a shiver down your spine.

He knew. He knew you’d be watching this later, knew exactly how it would feel for you to see him like this, his eyes focused on the camera while you were completely unaware. The deliberate way he captured the moment, not just for you but for himself too, is unsettling—and somehow, impossibly, it draws you in even more.

It was all planned. A reminder that even in the heat of it, Bucky was always one step ahead.

[celli-ohs]

11:40 PM | sim jaeyun x reader, fluff, crack, sfw, 800 wc

This is so stupid. You think as you crawl around the yard, searching the grass. You were doing all of this because your stupid boyfriend got himself grounded.

Jake Sim was 22 and grounded. But you love him, so much so that you’re willing to get on your knees and hunt down a single pebble in his backyard.

It takes you a bit longer than expected (how the hell does his lawn not have a single rock??) but you eventually find a couple, small as coins. You run around the back, praying you don’t get caught by his parents. His mother (god bless her heart) had already warned you to not contact Jake until Wednesday.

But when you're young and in love, you do crazy things, like throwing rocks at your boyfriend’s childhood bedroom window. After your fourth rock, the window cracks open and Jake peeks his head out.

Unfortunately for him, you hadn’t realized he’d finally noticed you (it’s dark out okay? You could barely see.) and you throw a rock smack dab into his face.

“Ow! What the fuck- Stop!” He whines, rubbing his forehead.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry! Are you okay baby?” You slap a hand over your mouth, feeling guilty. Jake rubs his forehead, sending you the most adorable pout. “Yeah,” He nods. 

“What’re you doing here? I’m grounded, you know.” He tells you, making you scoff. “I know, I just really missed you.”

Hearing how much you missed him has Jake grinning from ear to ear, said ears turning pink. “Oh yeah?” He asks shyly. You roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah Rapunzel, now let down your hair and let me in!” You joke. “I can’t, my mom will hear the door!” Jake complains. “But you can climb that tree.” He points to the old oak tree planted a few feet away. Its long sturdy branches extend right past his bedroom window.

You look at the tree, then at Jake, then at the tree, and then back at Jake. “You’re joking, right? I just came here to tell you goodnight and that I love you.” You clarify. Jake’s pout deepens.

“But I miss you so much. I can’t stand being apart from you, I’m already having withdrawals!” Half of his body is practically sticking out of his window now. “Jake I’m not gonna climb a tree to get to you, what if I fall?” You argue.

“I’ll catch you!” He sounds so sure. “You’re grounded!” You remind him. “I’ll still catch you, now come on, I really want to kiss you.” He’s got this cheesy grin on his face that pulls at your heartstrings.

In all honesty, you missed him a lot too. You probably wouldn’t be standing outside in nothing but your pajamas lamenting to your lover unless you were having withdrawals too.

So that’s how you found yourself 15 feet in the air, balancing on a single branch to just get close to your boyfriend. “If I fall and die, you are so not invited to my funeral.” You hiss as you drag yourself, moving painfully slow, inch by inch.

“Well that’s because I’ll be buried right beside you, if you’re going, so am I.” He jokes, which doesn’t help because if he makes you laugh too hard you fear you might slip.

“Shut up! I’m concentrating,” You huff, and hold your breath as you finally reach his window sill. As you mentally congratulate yourself for achieving a physical challenge you never thought you’d accomplish after the age of 12, Jake stares at you with hearts in his eyes. 

“Are you going to keep staring or let me in?” You finally ask, and Jake comes back to reality, chuckling as he helps carry you inside. You both clumsily land on the carpet, making a thud on the ground. “Do you think-” “Don’t worry, my dad’s a snorer.” He assures you, helping you up.

Once on your own two feet again, you’re suddenly tackled into Jake’s bed, the owner snuggling his head into your chest. “God I missed you so much.” He hums, a boyish grin plastering his face.

You can’t help but squeeze him tight and press a kiss to his hair. “I missed you too.” You sigh. “But I definitely think I deserve some kind of reward for risking my life to get here?” You joke, clearing your throat. Jake looks up at you, excited.

“Who would I be to refuse?” He’s already up, leaning towards you. “I felt like Flynn Rider climbing up the tower.” You giggle as Jake begins to pepper your face with kisses.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I’m Flynn,” He questions, looking at you confused as you only laugh.

“Whatever you say princess,” You sigh, cupping his face and finally getting a taste of his lips.

author's note: someone tell jake i'm deeply in love with him omfg 😭 I saw that one tiktok and immediately just had to start writing he's such a beautiful man and so princess coded.

[ikeucity]

jealous of jennie.

pairing. bestfriends brother!jay x reader

warning. this story contains sexual content (18+), explicit language, jealousy, and miscommunication. mild angst, fluff, and humor, as well as awkward tension. lighthearted themes of slight degradation/humiliation and insecurity are present, along with consensual smut. mdni.

wc. 33.7k

── .✦⸝⸝ masterlist

jay’s been crushing on you for as long as he can remember, but he’s always been too shy to do anything about it. just when you finally start realizing how interested in him you are, he suddenly starts seeing someone else, and you're not sure you like it. jealousy creeps in, leaving you questioning your feelings—until you stumble upon one of jay's secrets, a “jennie” that changes everything.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray real events or real people. the use of the name "jennie" has no connection to jennie of blackpink, nor is there any intent to sexualize her. any resemblance is purely coincidental. this also does not represent the real members of enhypen in any way. please don’t make it weird.

"so you're telling me, you thought making yeonjun jealous was gonna save your relationship?" you say, staring at hanna like you're trying to knock some sense into her. you emphasize each word, hoping it'll spark at least some shred of doubt about her terrible decision.

she's just sitting there, swirling her juice, while you pick a grape from the fruit bowl between you both at the kitchen island. and here she was, your best friend, diving headfirst into another trainwreck, as if you hadn't been through this with her a dozen times before.

"i mean, you don't think he'll care? you know him," she mumbles, eyes glued to the counter.

you let out a sigh. "oh, he'll care alright. but not in the way you're hoping."

hanna’s fingers fidget with the glass in front of her, the condensation dripping down her wrist. she avoids your gaze, chewing on her lip like she’s debating whether to defend her ridiculous plan or just give in.

typical. you can’t help but shake your head, taking another grape and popping it into your mouth.

"look, you’ve pulled some wild shit before, but this… this is different. yeonjun isn’t the type to play games, and you know that. jealousy’s not gonna make him come crawling back, it’s just gonna piss him off."

her shoulders slump, a little defeat sinking in. “i just… i don’t know what else to do. he’s been so distant lately, like i’m not even there. it’s like… he’s already checked out, and i’m just waiting for the final nail in the coffin.”

you roll your eyes but soften your tone. "hanna, if he’s acting distant, trying to push his buttons isn’t gonna bring him closer. you gotta talk to him, be honest, not… whatever this is."

she finally looks up at you, eyes a little glassy. "what if he doesn’t care anymore? what if i’m the only one still trying?"

that hit deeper than you expected. you lean back, exhaling slowly, thinking of all the times you’ve seen her chasing after something that was already slipping through her fingers. “then maybe… maybe it’s time to let it go, hann. if he’s checked out, then why keep pushing?”

silence lingers between you two for a second, the sound of the clock ticking in the background louder than it should be. hanna brushes her hair behind her ear, voice small. "i just don’t want to lose him."

you sigh, reaching out to rest your hand on hers. "i know. but sometimes, losing someone is better than losing yourself trying to hold onto something that's already gone."

hanna’s lips quiver like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. she just nods, the weight of your words sinking in. for once, she looks like she might actually listen.

"besides," you smirk, trying to lighten the mood, "you can always make him jealous when you’re happy and moved on. that’ll hurt way more than this petty shit."

she lets out a small laugh, wiping her eyes. "yeah, maybe."

"there you go, thinking with your brain again. it looks good on you." you give her a playful nudge, grabbing another grape and tossing it into her lap.

“oh, shut up,” she laughs, finally sounding like herself again.

but even as she smiles, you know the weight of her situation isn’t going away anytime soon. you can only hope she’s strong enough to face it head-on this time.

just as the conversation settles into a more comfortable silence, the front door creaks open, and you glance over to see jay shuffling in. he’s back from classes, hoodie pulled over his head, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

his eyes dart to you immediately, widening slightly before he looks down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

"oh, hey… didn’t know you were here," he mutters, voice barely above a mumble. his cheeks flush pink, and he scratches the back of his neck in that awkward way he always does around you.

he might’ve been quiet and a bit of a loser, but damn if he wasn’t hot, like someone ripped out of a movie. you’ve known him for years—ever since he was that scrawny kid who always hung around his sister, but now, he’s filled out, tall, lean… though he still can’t seem to act normal around you.

"hey, jay," you greet casually, tossing him a quick smile. you can practically see the gears in his head stuttering, like he’s not sure what to say next.

he clears his throat, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "uh, did you guys… were you talking about something important? i don’t want to interrupt or anything."

hanna rolls her eyes at him, giving him a look that says, 'you always interrupt.' she turns back to you and lowers her voice dramatically, like she’s giving away some huge secret. "don’t mind him. he’s just here to stare at you for a bit."

"what?!" jay’s face turns a deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in panic. "hanna, shut up!" he shoots her a death glare, but she just smirks, completely unbothered.

you laugh, trying to ease his obvious discomfort. "nah, we were just talking about how your sister has terrible relationship advice."

jay shuffles awkwardly, clearly not sure how to respond, and hanna snorts. "yeah, don’t get her started on that," she adds with a teasing tone, "she’ll lecture you for hours."

"i do not lecture," you defend yourself, leaning back on your chair. "i just give good advice to people who clearly need it."

jay chuckles softly, still not quite meeting your eyes. "well, i’m sure your advice is better than hanna’s." he sneaks a quick glance at you, and you catch his gaze for a second, noticing how his eyes linger a little too long before darting away again.

it’s kinda cute, actually, the way he gets all flustered around you. he might not be outgoing like his sister, but there was something about the way he awkwardly stumbled over his words that made it obvious he was into you, even if he didn’t have the guts to say it.

"so, uh, i should probably… go study or something," jay mumbles, backing up slowly toward the hallway. he glances at you one more time, the corner of his lip twitching like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

"good luck with that," you say with a playful grin, watching him fumble to leave.

"yeah, thanks," he mutters, practically tripping over his own feet before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and hanna alone again.

once he’s out of earshot, hanna bursts into laughter. "god, he’s so obvious. i swear he’s had the biggest crush on you since, like, forever."

you smirk, picking up another grape. "yeah, i noticed."

"hanna," you start, popping another grape in your mouth, eyes glinting with amusement, "would it be so weird if i actually hooked up with him?"

her jaw drops, and she gapes at you like you just suggested the most forbidden thing in the world.

"are you serious? jay? my little brother jay?" she whispers, half laughing, half in shock, but there's a glimmer in her eye like she's trying to picture it.

"what? he's hot. awkward as hell, but still… hot." you shrug, completely unfazed by her reaction. you could see it now—the way jay would probably blush like crazy, fumbling around nervously, but you didn’t mind.

something about it was kind of endearing.

hanna raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with a smirk. "okay, but can you imagine how flustered he’d be? he can barely look you in the eye without turning into a tomato."

"exactly. it’d be cute," you tease, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "i mean, he’s been crushing on me forever, right? might as well make his day."

"you're insane," she laughs, shaking her head, but you can tell she’s not actually against the idea. "i can’t believe we're even having this conversation. he’d probably pass out if you even kissed him."

you laugh, thinking about how jay would probably freeze up, all wide-eyed and nervous. "maybe, but i bet he’d be fun to mess with. who knows? he might surprise us."

"ugh, you’re terrible." hanna rolls her eyes but can’t help grinning. "but honestly? if anyone’s gonna break him out of his awkward phase, it might as well be you."

"exactly," you say, giving her a knowing look. "besides, if you’re out here making bad decisions with yeonjun, why can’t i make one with jay?"

hanna groans, burying her face in her hands. "oh my god, this is so messed up."

you chuckle, tossing another grape at her. "don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. he’s been staring at me like a lost puppy for years."

she peeks up from her hands, a mischievous look in her eyes now. "alright, fine. but if you actually do it, you better tell me everything. i’m not missing out on that gossip."

"hanna, you don’t find that weird?" you raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "you’re telling me you wanna know how he'll potentially fuck me? your brother?"

she snorts, completely unfazed, shrugging like it’s no big deal. "i mean, yeah, why not? i already know he’s got a crush on you, and if you’re actually gonna do it, i might as well get the details." her eyes glint with that mischievous spark again, like she’s enjoying this way too much.

you lean back in your chair, still staring at her in disbelief. "that’s some messed up shit, hanna."

she laughs, shaking her head. "okay, maybe it is, but c’mon. he’s a grown-ass man, you’re a grown-ass woman. if you hook up, it’s not like i’m gonna pretend it never happened. besides, think of it like… research. you can tell me if he’s as awkward in bed as he is in life."

"oh my god," you groan, rubbing your temples like you can’t believe you’re even having this conversation.

hanna just grins, leaning on the counter. "look, if anyone’s gonna handle jay, it’s gotta be someone i trust, right?"

"yeah, ‘cause nothing says trust like spilling the details of how your brother fucks," you mutter, but the smirk creeping onto your face betrays you. "fine. if, and i mean if it happens, maybe i’ll let you in on the tea."

hanna claps her hands together, clearly way too excited for this. "oh, i’m holding you to that. don’t chicken out now."

you roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "you’re unbelievable."

"so are you, thinking about banging my brother," she shoots back with a wink.

"touché." you chuckle while running your hands through your hair, the thought of actually doing something with jay making your stomach flip.

there’s a part of you that’s curious, but it’s also so damn messy. “what if he takes it too seriously? or what if it’s just fucking awkward?”

hanna leans back, crossing her arms, watching you spiral. "look, it’s not like you’re making a marriage proposal. it’s just a hookup, if it even happens. jay’s awkward, sure, but i doubt he’d make it weird."

you sigh, feeling the weight of all the shit you’ve been dealing with pile onto this already bizarre situation. "i just… i don’t know, hanna. it’s been a rough few months. i feel like everything’s been dry as hell lately."

hanna raises an eyebrow. "you mean, like… with sunghoon?"

you groan, covering your face with your hands. "don’t get me started. that whole situation was a shitshow."

"okay, spill. what went down?"

you take a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment before finally letting it out. "it was just… boring. like, no spark, no nothing. we were together for months, and I swear, it was like he was just going through the motions. half the time I couldn’t even tell if he was interested."

"huh," hanna nods, thoughtful for a second. "so you broke up with him?"

"yeah, finally. i couldn’t take it anymore. it felt like i was dating a brick wall. no passion, no fire, and don’t even get me started on the sex. dry as fuck." you scoff, leaning back against your chair.

"i tried, hanna. i really did. but how can you stay with someone who makes you feel like you’re invisible half the time?"

"honey, you deserve way better than that," she says, her voice softer now. "it’s not your fault that sunghoon couldn’t keep up. maybe you just need… you know, someone who actually wants you."

"someone like jay?" you joke, half-heartedly, but there’s a flicker of something in your chest when you say it.

hanna smirks, not missing a beat. "hey, i'm not the one who said it, but now that you mention it… he might just be what you need. awkward as hell, sure, but he’s been into you forever, and at least you’d know he’s trying."

"ugh, i’m just tired of all this shit. the dating, the breakups, the dead-end relationships. it’s exhausting."

she nods, giving you a sympathetic look. "i get it. but maybe it’s time to stop worrying about all that serious shit and just have fun. if it’s jay or someone else, who cares? do what makes you happy for once."

you stare at her, taking in her words, feeling the weight of it all slowly lifting off your shoulders. maybe she’s right. maybe it’s time to stop overthinking everything and just do something for yourself.

it’s been months since that conversation with hanna, and somehow, you never followed through with it. maybe it was just something you thought about when you were in a dry spell, coming off a shitty relationship with sunghoon. at the time, jay seemed like the sweetest option, the safest—someone who wouldn’t complicate things. and hanna? she was fine with it, encouraging, actually.

but still, nothing happened. you chalked it up to a moment of weakness. yeah, jay was hot, awkward as hell, but hot.

it was like a loser got trapped in a really good-looking guy's body, the kind of guy who was too shy to realize how much he had going for him. but maybe that’s why you never pushed it—it wasn’t serious. just a fleeting thought after all the mess you went through with sunghoon.

yet, recently, something’s been gnawing at you. hanna’s been casually mentioning that jay’s been seeing someone, dropping it in conversations with that teasing smirk she always has. and, well… it piqued your interest. way more than it should have.

you try to tell yourself it’s nothing.

'good for him,' you say, like you mean it, but deep down, there’s this weird feeling, like something’s off. it’s not jealousy, not really. it’s more like curiosity… or maybe even a bit of possessiveness. after all, you’d been his little crush for years. it was kind of flattering in its own way, knowing he was always there.

"so, jay’s seeing someone, huh?" you finally ask hanna one afternoon, trying to sound casual as you lean back against the couch.

hanna glances at you with that all-knowing look, already sensing something beneath your tone. "yup. can you believe it? he’s finally getting out there. i was shocked at first, but i guess he’s growing up."

"yeah, he’s definitely grown," you mutter, thinking about how much he’s changed in the last few years.

hanna smirks, clearly not missing your choice of words. "what’s that tone? you jealous or something?"

"jealous?" you scoff, but it feels a little forced. "no, just… surprised. i mean, it’s jay. he’s never really dated, right?"

"he hasn’t. but people grow up, y’know? he’s not the awkward little kid anymore, even though he still kinda acts like it," she says, grabbing her phone and scrolling absentmindedly. "he’s been going out with this girl for a few weeks now. cute, right?"

you shrug, trying to play it off, but you can’t help the little sting of annoyance. weeks? that long, and you had no clue?

"yeah, sure. cute," you mutter, glancing away. but your mind’s already spinning, wondering what kind of girl has caught his attention.

hanna raises an eyebrow, catching the subtle shift in your tone. "why? you miss him or something?" she teases, smirking over her phone.

"no," you snap a little too quickly, then clear your throat, trying to act unbothered. "just curious, that's all. haven’t seen him around here in a while."

she laughs, shaking her head. "wow, you really do miss him. he used to be around all the time, and now you're noticing when he's gone." she sets her phone down, looking way too amused by this. "admit it—you’re lowkey jealous."

"i’m not jealous," you huff, crossing your arms defensively. "i just didn’t think he’d be the type to dive into a relationship, that’s all."

"oh, so now you’re judging his love life?" hanna grins, leaning in closer, clearly enjoying this. "look, it’s not like they’re serious or anything, but yeah, he’s been busy. getting out there. i thought you’d be happy for him."

"i am," you say, but it sounds half-hearted, even to your own ears. "it’s just weird, that’s all."

hanna watches you for a second, her smirk softening. "oh my god," she says, suddenly realizing. "you had your chance, didn’t you? back when we talked about it months ago, but you didn’t follow through, and now you’re regretting it."

"what? no!" you protest, but the way she’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve been caught.

"yeah, you are," she presses, laughing softly. "you thought about it back then, and now you’re wondering if you should’ve just gone for it."

you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

maybe she’s right, just a little. maybe part of you did think jay would always be there, orbiting around, waiting. now that someone else has his attention, it feels different. unsettling.

just then, jay comes stumbling in, looking flustered as hell. his hair’s a mess, cheeks flushed, and he’s wearing clothes that clearly scream date night—button-up shirt slightly wrinkled, dark jeans that fit a little too well, like he actually put thought into the whole thing. the sight of him in that state makes your heart do a weird little flip, but you force yourself to stay cool, act like it’s no big deal.

jay looks at both of you, eyes wide, clearly shocked to find you there, but he lets out a breathless, "hey," like he’s trying to play it off. you catch the faint tremble in his voice, though, and it makes you smirk internally. he’s so damn awkward, it’s almost adorable.

"hmm, hey," hanna says, immediately zeroing in on his disheveled appearance. she crosses her arms, her lips curling into a grin. "where you been, jay? out on a date?"

jay freezes for a split second, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "w-what? no, i wasn’t… i mean, i just—i was hanging out with some friends."

you can’t help but snicker at how awful he is at lying, and jay shoots you a quick glance before looking down, his cheeks growing redder. "friends, huh?" you say casually, trying to hide the amusement in your voice. "didn’t know your friends wore that much perfume."

his face flushes deeper, and hanna’s on him in a second, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "wait a second…" she leans in, sniffing the air dramatically. "oh my god, you’re actually wearing perfume. like, something a girl would wear." her grin gets even wider. "jay, did you steal her perfume or what?"

"no!" he stammers, taking a step back, clearly overwhelmed by the interrogation. "i didn’t—i mean, i wasn’t stealing anything. i just—i don’t know, maybe i hugged her or something, okay? it’s not a big deal."

the way he says her makes your stomach tighten, but you shove it down, refusing to let it show. instead, you raise an eyebrow, giving him a nonchalant look. "so there is a girl, huh?"

jay looks like he’s about to combust on the spot, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to defend himself. "i… it’s not like… yeah, i’ve been seeing someone, but it’s not serious, okay? we’re just hanging out. nothing crazy."

"hanging out," hanna echoes, clearly enjoying every second of this. "is that what we’re calling dates now? ‘cause, bro, you look like you just came back from date night."

jay groans, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly desperate to escape the conversation. "look, can we just not do this right now? i’m gonna go to my room." and with that, he rushes past, practically bolting toward the hallway.

but not before you catch it. the scent. that sweet, floral perfume lingering on him. it’s subtle but unmistakable—definitely something a girl would wear, and something that would drive any guy crazy. you can’t help but feel a strange knot form in your chest as you watch him disappear into his room.

"huh," hanna says, leaning back on the couch with a satisfied grin. "he’s really getting out there. good for him."

"yeah," you mutter, trying to act unaffected, but the perfume, the thought of him with someone else—it’s still swirling in your head. "good for him."

you sit there, staring at the spot where jay had been just seconds ago, the scent of that damn perfume still hanging in the air like some ghost that won’t leave. hanna’s sitting back, satisfied with her little interrogation, but you can’t help the weird pit forming in your stomach.

you try to shake it off, acting like none of this bothers you, but it does. way more than it should.

you stayed over at hanna’s that night, and the tension from earlier stuck with you like a bad itch. jay never left his room, not once, which only made your curiosity gnaw at you even more.

what the hell was going on with him? who was this girl? you tried to push it out of your mind, but it clung to you, especially with the scent of that perfume still lingering in your thoughts.

you and hanna were playing mario kart, both of you on the couch. or rather, you were playing, while she kept glancing at her phone, clearly distracted by a stream of notifications from yeonjun. every time her phone buzzed, she'd snicker or blush, completely zoning out from the game.

"yo, if you’re just gonna text yeonjun the whole time, i might as well play alone," you teased, bumping her with your elbow as she nearly drove off the track.

"huh? what? no, i’m playing," she muttered, not even looking at the screen as her character crashed into a wall. "yeonjun just sent me something funny, that’s all."

you roll your eyes, about to give up on getting her attention back when the doorbell rang.

"huh, who’s that?" hanna said, barely glancing away from her phone.

you pause the game, both of you looking toward the door. hanna finally gets up, heading over to open it. when she swings the door wide, you see him standing there—jay’s friend, heeseung. he’s clearly flustered, his hand shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as if he’s uncomfortable being there.

"heeseung?" hanna asks, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

heeseung shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "uh, hey. is jay here? we were supposed to hang out, but he hasn’t been answering his phone. i figured i’d just come by and check."

you almost smirk. god, another one of jay’s friends who was a total loser in the cutest way possible.

like jay, heeseung had everything going for him—good looks, tall, decent style, but somehow still gave off the energy of a guy who’d stumble over his own words if you looked at him too long.

"he’s been locked in his room since he got back," hanna says, rolling her eyes. "probably doing god knows what. you can go knock if you want."

heeseung glances at you for a split second, then back at hanna. "uh, yeah, cool, thanks."

as he makes his way toward jay’s room, you can’t help but chuckle under your breath. you knew heeseung and jay well enough—they were practically glued to each other most days, playing games together, screaming over discord at all hours of the night. and here he was, showing up like some worried girlfriend when jay wasn’t answering his phone.

"he’s definitely still in there," hanna mutters, sitting back down next to you. "but if anyone can drag his ass out, it’s heeseung."

you nod, but your mind is elsewhere. jay, locked in his room all night, avoiding everyone. was he embarrassed? hiding from whatever happened earlier? or was it something else?

your curiosity eats at you, but you shove it down, focusing back on the game as heeseung knocks softly on jay’s door.

the muffled sound of voices drifts down the hall, heeseung’s awkward murmur and jay’s low, strained reply. you can’t make out what they’re saying, but the tension lingers in the air, heavy and thick.

"heeseung’s probably just here to game with him, like always," hanna says, half-watching the screen. "but i gotta say, that boy’s a mess too. sometimes i don’t get how they even function."

you snort. "yeah, but they’re good guys. even if they’re both clueless."

hanna grins. "true. but damn, if only they weren’t such awkward losers. they’d probably have girls falling all over them if they weren’t so… i don’t know, them."

you laugh, shaking your head, but part of you can’t shake the nagging thought about jay, the girl, the perfume… and why he’d been acting so strange ever since. damn.

looks like jay eventually let heeseung in, because after a few minutes, you hear the low murmur of voices coming from his room. nothing loud or out of the ordinary, but just enough to confirm that heeseung’s been granted access.

you continue playing mario kart with hanna, your mind half in the game and half still on jay, wondering what the hell is going on with him.

hanna keeps glancing at her phone, and you don’t miss the small smirks she gives whenever a notification pops up. it doesn’t take long before she’s fully lost in her own little world, yeonjun obviously at the center of it. you roll your eyes.

“you’re not even playing anymore,” you say, bumping her with your elbow as she drives straight off the edge for the third time in a row. “might as well just text him if you’re that distracted.”

“ugh, fine,” she mutters, tossing her controller down with a dramatic sigh. “he’s been dying to talk, and I can’t concentrate anyway.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what’s going on with you two, anyway? things getting serious or what?”

hanna bites her lip, the kind of half-smile that tells you everything and nothing all at once. “we’ll see. he’s been acting all sweet lately, but I just want to clear some things up, you know? make sure we’re on the same page.”

“mm-hmm,” you hum, not buying her casual tone for a second. “sure, sure. go have your little heart-to-heart.”

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, getting up and grabbing her phone. “i’m gonna go to my room and talk to him. don’t get into too much trouble while i’m gone,” she teases, disappearing down the hall with her phone already pressed to her ear.

you’re left sitting there, the room suddenly quiet except for the distant sound of jay and heeseung talking behind closed doors. you play a few more rounds of mario kart, but it feels pointless now that hanna’s gone and your mind is drifting back to jay again.

curiosity gets the better of you. before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself walking down the hall, toward jay’s room. your footsteps are light, almost cautious, like you’re not even sure you want to be caught doing this. but something about the whole situation—jay’s sudden flustered behavior, the perfume, the secrecy—it’s gnawing at you, and you just need to know.

you stop just outside his door, pressing your back to the wall, trying to hear what they’re talking about. their voices are low, but you catch snippets here and there. heeseung’s calm, steady tone contrasts with jay’s more hesitant, awkward replies.

“…so, how’d it go?” you hear heeseung ask, his voice muffled through the door.

there’s a long pause, and you can practically feel jay squirming from the other side. “…it was fine. great even but, god. it’s just… different.”

“different how?” heeseung presses, and now you’re straining to hear every word, your heart racing a little.

jay lets out a sigh. “i don’t know. i mean, she’s cool, but… i keep thinking about—”

you hold your breath, leaning in a little closer, desperate to hear what he’s going to say next. thinking about who? what the hell is he talking about?

but before you can catch the rest of his sentence, something creaks under your foot, the sound louder than you expected in the quiet hallway. you freeze, heart pounding in your chest, praying they didn’t hear you.

there’s a brief silence from inside the room, then jay’s voice, a little more alert now. “…did you hear that?”

shit.

you back away slowly, trying to move as quietly as possible, but your pulse is racing, and you can already feel the heat creeping up your neck.

your pulse quickens, adrenaline spiking as you slowly back away from jay’s door, praying he doesn’t open it and catch you red-handed. your foot moves carefully, barely making a sound as you step back down the hall, but you can hear the faint creak of the floorboards under your weight.

“nah, probably nothing,” you hear heeseung say, his voice trying to calm jay down. “this place is always making weird sounds.”

“yeah… maybe,” jay replies, but you can tell he’s still on edge. you hold your breath, waiting, listening for any sign that he’s going to open the door and find you there, eavesdropping like a total creep.

but the door doesn’t open. instead, their conversation picks back up, though jay’s voice is a little quieter now, more cautious, like he knows someone might be listening.

you exhale slowly, stepping back further into the hallway, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease just slightly. that was too close, you think, your heart still racing as you slip back toward the living room.

but despite the close call, your curiosity hasn’t been satisfied. if anything, it’s only grown stronger. what the hell is jay thinking about? why did he seem so off today? and who was this girl, this mysterious person he’s apparently been seeing?

something about it all didn’t sit right with you, and it was starting to get under your skin.

as you make your way back to the couch, you try to shake it off, but your mind is still buzzing.

you hear hanna’s door creak open down the hall. she’s probably still on the phone with yeonjun, but knowing her, she’s already caught onto your little adventure. you hear her muffled voice through the walls, sounding serious, like she’s deep in conversation.

you try to focus on the game, but the more you think about it, the more frustrated you get. why do i even care so much? you ask yourself. jay was just a guy.

a sweet, awkward guy who’s been crushing on you for ages, sure, but still… why did the idea of him with someone else, even just hanging out, feel like it was getting to you so much?

you sigh, your grip tightening on the controller as you speed down the mario kart track, barely paying attention to what you’re doing. you know you’re overthinking it, but that doesn’t make the sick feeling in your gut go away. you hear a faint laugh from jay’s room, and your stomach twists.

hanna comes back into the living room, phone still in hand, but the conversation with yeonjun clearly over for now. she glances at you, raising an eyebrow as she flops down next to you on the couch, her eyes immediately narrowing like she’s picked up on something.

“you good?” she asks, half-amused, half-suspicious. she probably noticed the way you’ve been sitting there, controller in hand but not really playing, clearly lost in thought.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you lie, a little too quickly.

she smirks, shifting her position to face you better. “sure, sure. you’re ‘fine,’ but you look like you’re thinking way too hard about something. spill it. what’s going on?”

you pause, debating how much to say, but you know hanna isn’t the type to let things slide. she’ll keep poking until you give her something. you sigh, tossing the controller down in frustration.

“okay, fine. i’m just… curious.”

“about?”

“jay.”

hanna’s smirk widens. “oh? now we’re back to jay, huh? what happened while i was on the phone? did something weird go down between you two?”

“no,” you mutter, though that knot in your stomach tightens again. “it’s just… i don’t know. he’s been acting strange. like, he’s all flustered and avoiding us, and then there’s the whole thing about him seeing someone. i guess it’s just throwing me off.”

“hmm.” hanna leans back, crossing her arms as she studies you, clearly amused by your little dilemma. “so you’re bothered that jay’s hanging out with another girl. interesting.”

“i’m not bothered,” you say, but even to you, it sounds weak. “it’s just… weird, okay? he’s always been around, always crushing, and now suddenly he’s off with some other girl, wearing perfume and shit.”

hanna chuckles, shaking her head. “god, you really are jealous, just admit it. you had months to make a move, and now that someone else might be catching his attention, it’s messing with you.”

you shoot her a glare. “jealousy isn't the right term. i told you i'm just curious.”

“right,” she says, clearly not believing you for a second. “so curious that you probably tried to eavesdrop on him and heeseung just now, huh?”

your eyes widen slightly, but you try to keep your cool. “what? no. i didn’t—”

hanna laughs, cutting you off. “oh, please. i know you, and i definitely heard you sneaking around the hallway while i was on the phone. don’t even try to lie.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “fine. maybe i did try to eavesdrop a little. but it didn’t help. they were talking in these vague half-sentences, and now i’m just more confused.”

“so why don’t you just ask him?” hanna suggests, a grin tugging at her lips. “i mean, if you really want to know, just corner jay and get him to spill. he’s terrible at hiding stuff anyway.”

you consider her suggestion, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling inside you. “and what exactly do i say? ‘hey, jay, so i noticed you’ve been acting weird and smelling like another girl. care to explain?’”

hanna bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “honestly? yeah. he’d probably be so flustered, he’d tell you everything just to avoid the embarrassment.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile creeping onto your face. “you’re terrible.”

“nah, i’m just honest.” hanna nudges you with her elbow. “c’mon, it’s not like he’s some big mystery. he’s jay. awkward, sweet, and totally wrapped up in you. if you want answers, just ask.”

“maybe,” you mumble, still not convinced but knowing she’s probably right.

"should i ask heeseung?" you blurt out, half-joking but also half-serious. maybe heeseung would give you the details without all the awkward stammering that jay would.

hanna raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you just suggested something crazy. "heeseung? are you kidding me? he’d probably fumble even worse than jay."

you laugh, but there's a part of you that wonders. heeseung—god, another awkward mess but that’s also why he might just crack under a little pressure.

"i mean, it’s not the worst idea," you say, shrugging. "he might slip up and say something."

"honey, heeseung can barely hold a conversation without tripping over his words, especially when he’s nervous. and you asking him about jay? yeah, good luck with that." hanna grins, clearly entertained by the idea. "besides, he’d probably just defer to jay, tell you to ask him."

"ugh, you’re probably right," you groan, sinking back into the couch. "it’s just… ugh, something feels off, and i can’t let it go."

hanna tilts her head, studying you with that look she gets when she’s about to get all deep and sisterly. "okay, real talk? why does it bug you so much? i mean, seriously. if jay’s seeing someone, why does it bother you this much?"

you pause, not really sure how to answer that without sounding like a complete mess. because honestly, you hadn’t thought too hard about it until now. why does it bother me?

"i don’t know," you finally admit, sighing.

"hmm," hanna hums knowingly. "so maybe it’s not just curiosity. maybe you liked the attention. or maybe… you like him more than you realize."

"no," you protest immediately, though the knot in your stomach tightens a little. "it’s not like that."

"okay, okay." hanna holds her hands up in surrender, smirking. "but if you want to know what’s really going on, you either ask jay or wait for him to spill. heeseung’s not gonna give you any answers."

you sit there, chewing on the inside of your cheek, the idea of confronting jay still gnawing at you. “yeah, but asking jay feels… complicated.”

“well, then,” hanna says, nudging you with her elbow, “you’ve got a decision to make. either get the guts to talk to jay, or just let it go and stop driving yourself nuts about it.”

you lean back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering if you’ll actually have the nerve to confront jay. the curiosity is killing you, but there’s that part of you that doesn’t want to know… because what if it is serious with this girl?

realizing that maybe you shouldn’t dwell on this too much, you sigh, leaning back on the couch. maybe it’s just your ego getting in the way—getting worked up over the fact that jay’s attention was elsewhere, no longer revolving around you like it had for years.

it stung a little, yeah, but was it really about him? or was it just that weird feeling when someone you always thought would be there suddenly wasn’t?

you rub your temples, trying to shake off the thought. if it’s serious, do i even want to know?

you’ve already been through enough drama with sunghoon. getting tangled up in whatever jay had going on wasn’t something you needed right now. especially when your feelings about it weren’t even clear.

"maybe i’m just making a big deal out of nothing," you mutter, more to yourself than to hanna.

"huh?" she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

"maybe it’s just my ego, you know? i’m probably just annoyed that jay’s not giving me all his attention anymore. and if it’s serious, i really don’t want to mess with it."

hanna watches you for a second, her smirk fading into something a little softer. "yeah, maybe. but it’s not wrong to feel weird about it. he’s been your little puppy for so long, it’s gotta feel strange to see him with someone else. but like you said, if it’s serious, maybe it’s better to just leave it alone."

you nod, feeling a bit of relief in her words. leave it alone. yeah, that sounded like the smart move. you didn’t want to ruin anything for jay, not when he’d finally found someone that seemed to have his attention.

"yeah," you say, more certain now. "i’ll just let it go. if he’s happy, that’s all that matters."

"huh, look at you being mature," hanna teases, though there’s a warmth in her voice. "proud of you."

you snort, rolling your eyes. "don’t get used to it. but yeah… i think it’s for the best."

you both settle back into a comfortable silence, the weight of your curiosity easing a bit. jay was figuring out his own life, and as strange as it felt, you couldn’t hold onto the past forever. people moved on, and maybe it was time you let him do the same without all the second-guessing.

weeks pass, and things between you, jay, and hanna settle into a weird but manageable routine. jay’s still around, but not as much. and you’ve mostly convinced yourself to stop overthinking it, especially when hanna lets slip that things with jay’s new girl seem to be going well.

every time she mentions it, you nod along, offering a polite "that’s great," even though you feel that familiar, subtle tug of something you can’t quite name. but you push it down and try not to dwell on it.

then one weekend, hanna decides to throw a party at her house. nothing too crazy, but she’s invited a bunch of friends over, and the idea is to just relax, drink, and let loose for a bit.

you’re half-excited, half-dreading it, especially since you know jay will probably be there too, along with a bunch of his friends, including heeseung.

"hanna, do we really need this party?" you ask a little nervously, standing in her kitchen the day of, helping her set up snacks and drinks. "i mean, are we celebrating something? or are you just in the mood to stir up chaos?"

she grins at you, mischievous as ever. "oh, you know me. stirring up chaos is my specialty. plus, we haven’t had a decent get-together in forever. and i need an excuse to dress cute and get drunk, so here we are."

you laugh, shaking your head. "fair enough."

“plus, yeonjun’s coming,” she adds with a wink, clearly excited about that little detail. “and i want him to meet some of my friends, show him off a bit, you know?”

“ah, so this party is really for yeonjun,” you tease, nudging her with your elbow.

“well, yeah,” she laughs, “but you’ll benefit too. lots of people are coming. you might meet someone.”

you roll your eyes but smile, part of you hopes he won’t bring his new girl to the party, though you hate yourself a little for even thinking that.

as the night progresses, people start trickling in. the house fills with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and music. you find yourself sipping on a drink, wandering between groups of friends, making small talk but keeping an eye out for familiar faces.

it’s a decent crowd—mostly people you know through hanna, but enough new faces to keep things interesting.

then, just as you’re starting to relax, jay walks in. and of course, heeseung is with him. jay’s wearing his usual casual style, but something about him seems different tonight—more confident, maybe? or maybe it’s just the way he’s been acting lately, more sure of himself. you can’t help but notice it, even though you’ve been telling yourself to stop.

your eyes flicker to his side, half-expecting to see the girl he’s been seeing, but to your surprise, he’s alone. no girlfriend in tow, just him and heeseung, who looks equally as awkward but still manages to make it work somehow.

hanna spots them and waves them over, and before you know it, you’re standing in a small group with jay, heeseung, and a few others, trying to act casual.

“hey,” jay says, his voice a little quieter than usual as he gives you a small, shy smile. "how’s it going?"

"good," you reply, forcing a smile back.

he nods, looking like he’s about to say something else when hanna jumps in, handing him a drink and teasing him about finally showing up. you take a sip of your own drink, trying not to stare, but you can’t help feeling that tug again, even though you promised yourself you were over this.

heeseung, meanwhile, is standing awkwardly beside jay, clearly a little uncomfortable in the social setting but still trying to make conversation. “so, uh, this party’s pretty cool,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

"yeah, it’s nice," you say, giving him a reassuring smile. "hanna always knows how to throw a good party."

"for sure," heeseung agrees, glancing around like he’s not sure what to do next.

as the conversation flows, you notice jay stealing glances at you every now and then, the party vibe is definitely kicking up a notch. the music’s louder, people are getting rowdier, and the drinks are flowing fast.

you’re on your second, maybe third drink, the buzz slowly settling into your veins, helping to loosen up that weird tension you’ve been feeling since jay walked in.

you're standing with jay, heeseung, and a couple of others, and it’s not long before everyone’s talking shit and laughing a little too loudly.

heeseung, bless his awkward heart, is still standing off to the side, clutching a drink like it’s a lifeline. the guy’s not exactly built for parties, but he’s trying. you watch as he takes a big swig of his beer, his face immediately flushing red, creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks.

you can’t help but smirk, leaning in slightly as you raise an eyebrow at him. “damn, heeseung. you okay? you’re turning red as fuck.”

heeseung sputters, looking down at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “what? no, i’m fine. just, uh, warm in here, y’know?”

“sure, sure. it’s the alcohol, isn’t it?” you tease, giving him a playful grin. “you’re a lightweight, huh?”

he flushes even more, if that’s even possible, and you can’t help but find it kind of cute. maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but seeing him all flustered like this has you feeling a little bold. “you know, it’s a good look on you. red suits you,” you say, giving him a slightly flirty smile.

heeseung’s eyes widen a bit, and he looks like he’s about to choke on his drink. “w-what? no, i—thanks, i guess?” he stammers, clearly not expecting that. he shifts awkwardly, trying to hide his face behind his cup.

jay, who’s been listening in, raises an eyebrow at your comment but doesn’t say anything, his eyes flicking between you and heeseung like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. you can see the confusion on his face, like he’s not sure whether to be amused or annoyed.

you can’t help but push a little further, just to see how flustered you can make heeseung. “you’re cute when you’re drunk, heeseung. maybe you should drink more often.”

heeseung’s practically glowing red now, his grip tightening on his drink as he lets out a nervous laugh. “uh, maybe I’ll stick to water,” he mumbles, clearly flustered out of his mind.

“nah, live a little,” you tease, leaning back casually, taking a sip of your own drink. you’re definitely feeling a little bolder than usual, the alcohol making you loosen up while jay’s still watching the whole interaction.

hanna comes over, laughing loudly with yeonjun hanging off her, clearly already tipsy. “yo, what’s going on here?” she asks, grinning as she looks between you, jay, and heeseung.

“nothing,” you shrug, “just giving heeseung some shit for turning into a tomato after one drink.”

heeseung groans, covering his face with his hand. “can we not?”

hanna snickers, nudging you. “i see you, though, giving him those flirty little comments. careful, or you’re gonna give him a heart attack.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, he’s fine. aren’t you, heeseung?”

heeseung gives a weak thumbs up, still too flustered to respond properly, and you can’t help but find the whole thing hilarious. jay, though, is still watching you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing, his jaw clenched just slightly. but you ignore it, deciding to have a little fun with the night.

“so, jay,” you say, turning to him with a smirk. “how’s the new girl? thought you’d bring her to the party.”

jay’s expression tightens for a split second before he relaxes, shrugging casually. “she’s busy. couldn’t make it.”

“oh,” you hum, “too bad. would’ve been nice to meet her.” the words come out a little more pointed than you intended, but the alcohol’s loosening your tongue.

jay just nods, sipping his drink, not saying much, but the tension between you two is palpable now. heeseung’s still standing there, awkward as ever, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

hanna gives you a look, raising an eyebrow. “damn, what’s going on with y’all?” she asks, half-laughing. “we’re supposed to be having fun, not having weird-ass standoffs.”

you shrug, trying to play it off. “just making conversation.”

jay doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to figure you out. the tension’s thick now, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s caught on to your curiosity about him and his new girl—or if he’s feeling the same weird shift that you are.

the party is in full swing now, reaching that peak where everyone’s either too drunk or too deep in the vibe to care anymore. the music’s loud, thumping through the house, and the living room has turned into a makeshift dance floor. people are swaying, drinks sloshing, and you find yourself caught up in the energy of it all.

you spot hanna in the middle of the room, completely lost in the music, grinding on yeonjun like her life depends on it. she’s got her arms draped over his shoulders, moving with him in sync, her hips swaying to the beat. yeonjun’s hands are on her waist, pulling her closer as they move together, both clearly tipsy but having the time of their lives.

you can’t help but laugh at the sight of her. god, she’s really going for it tonight. you’re feeling the buzz too, a few drinks deep, and before you know it, you’re out on the floor as well, the beat taking over your body.

the room is hot, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and alcohol. the bass vibrates through your chest, and you let yourself move, swaying to the rhythm, feeling the weight of everything melt away. the drinks have loosened you up, and you don’t care who’s watching. it feels good to just let go.

you close your eyes, losing yourself in the music, your body moving in time with the beat. you can feel the warmth of the people around you, the brush of bodies as you dance, but you don’t think about anything except the way the music pulses through your veins.

a few minutes pass, and when you open your eyes, you catch sight of jay standing near the edge of the room, drink in hand, watching. his gaze is fixed on you, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. it’s not just curiosity—it’s heavier, more intense.

the moment your eyes lock with his, you feel a jolt of something run through you. the alcohol in your system makes everything feel bolder, sharper, and you don’t look away.

instead, you let your body move a little slower, more deliberately, the music still guiding you, but now there’s a purpose behind it. you’re aware of his eyes on you, and you’re playing into it.

heeseung’s still somewhere in the crowd, flushed red from drinking, probably too shy to join in on the dance floor, but you’re not thinking about him anymore. your focus is on jay, standing there, watching, the tension between you two crackling in the air like a live wire.

hanna’s laughter cuts through the noise as she and yeonjun get even closer, practically wrapped around each other, and you shake your head, smirking at how wild she’s gotten. but then, almost instinctively, your eyes flick back to jay, and he’s still staring, not even trying to hide it.

as your hips swayed to the rhythm, you suddenly feel an arm drape around your shoulder, stopping you mid-movement. confusion flickers in your mind, and your eyes stay on jay for just a beat longer before you turn to see who it is.

then, you hear someone scream in your ear, trying to be heard over the booming music.

"hey!"

you blink, pulling back slightly, and there he is—sunghoon. your ex.

the shock hits you like a cold wave, making your whole body tense up. of all people, it had to be sunghoon. you immediately feel a rush of irritation bubbling up inside you, remembering all the reasons why you left that dry, emotionless relationship behind.

"sunghoon? what the fuck are you doing here?" you yell over the music, your face scrunching up in disbelief.

he smirks down at you, clearly tipsy, his grip on your shoulder firm but not exactly welcome. "just wanted to catch up!" he shouts, his voice laced with that familiar cocky tone, like he’s doing you a favor just by showing up.

you glance around, realizing how close he’s standing to you, the weight of his arm making your skin crawl. really, sunghoon? now?

"catch up?" you shout back, trying to shake him off. "there’s nothing to catch up on!"

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you feel a spike of anger mix with the awkwardness of the moment. "come on, don’t be like that! i was just thinking about you, y'know?"

your patience snaps. "dude, we're done. way done. move the fuck on already," you snap, stepping out from under his arm. your heart’s racing, and you quickly glance back at jay, who’s still watching, his expression unreadable now.

sunghoon looks taken aback, but that smug grin stays plastered on his face. "alright, alright. no need to be so cold. just thought you might’ve missed me."

"missed you?" you laugh, bitterness creeping into your voice. "nah, not even close."

sunghoon shrugs, clearly not getting the hint or just ignoring it, but you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes flicking back to jay for a brief second. his gaze is still on you, and you can tell by the way his jaw is clenched that he saw everything. there's a flicker of something dark, maybe jealousy, or maybe something else entirely.

you turn back to sunghoon, fed up. "look, you’ve got about ten seconds to fuck off before i make this real awkward for you."

sunghoon finally gets the message, rolling his eyes as he steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. "alright, alright. whatever. you’re missing out."

"yeah, sure," you mutter, watching as he stumbles off into the crowd. good riddance.

the moment he’s gone, you exhale, feeling the tension start to lift.

hanna, still wrapped around yeonjun but now clearly paying attention, turns to look at you as sunghoon walks away. her face is a mix of confusion and amusement, her eyebrows raised. she’s clearly not drunk enough to miss the drama unfolding in front of her.

"what the fuck was that?" she shouts over the music, looking between you and the direction sunghoon disappeared in. "why the hell is he here?"

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "hell if I know. i didn’t even know he’d be at the party. guess he just felt like showing up to ruin my night."

hanna looks equal parts amused and annoyed. "that guy’s got some fucking nerve. acting like you’d just fall back into his arms or something."

you shake your head, still fuming. "he’s delusional. fucking idiot."

hanna watches you for a second longer, then nods toward jay, who’s still standing on the edge of the dance floor, his eyes locked on you. "well, seems like someone else noticed that little encounter. what’s going on with him?"

you glance back at jay, who quickly looks away as soon as your eyes meet. even from across the room. part of you wonders what’s running through his head.

"nothing," you mumble, though you know that’s far from the truth.

hanna snorts, giving you a knowing look. "yeah, well, whatever it is, you should probably talk to him. looks like he’s been staring at you all night. and now with sunghoon back in the picture? don’t let this shit fester, babe."

"shit, what do i even say?!" you mutter, more to yourself than to hanna, but she hears you loud and clear. she leans closer, still swaying a bit from the alcohol and the lingering high of dancing with yeonjun, but her focus is locked on you now.

"easy," she says with a smirk, “you just walk over there, look him dead in the eyes, and say, ‘so, were you watching that whole shitshow, or do I have to fill you in?’”

you groan, rolling your eyes. “yeah, sure, because that’ll go over well.”

hanna raises an eyebrow, nudging you toward him. "you’re overthinking it. just go talk to him. you got this."

"yeah, easier said than done," you mutter, but you force yourself to move. you’re not about to let this weird tension drag out any longer, especially with the way your stomach flips every time jay looks at you like that.

you take a deep breath, pushing your way through the crowd until you’re standing in front of him. jay’s eyes widen the second he sees you up close, his usual quiet confidence completely unraveling as he visibly tenses up. god, he’s already a mess, and you haven’t even said anything yet.

"hey," you start, trying to sound casual, but the alcohol’s making your voice a little too soft, too loose. "you’ve been staring at me all night, you know?"

jay’s face turns bright red, his gaze immediately darting to the floor. "i—uh, i —I mean, maybe I was a little," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck in that awkward way he always does when he’s nervous. "it’s just, well, you look—"

"jay," you cut him off with a smirk, stepping a little closer. "you’re a terrible liar."

his face flushes even more, and he tries to hide it behind a nervous chuckle. "yeah, okay, maybe I was staring. but it’s hard not to when—"

"when what?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, feeling a little bolder than usual thanks to the alcohol. god, this drink was definitely getting to you. everything feels looser, like the tension between you two has been stretched so thin it could snap at any second.

"i mean… look at you," jay mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. "it’s hard not to stare when you look like that."

the compliment catches you off guard, but instead of letting it throw you, you press on, pushing the conversation to where you really want it to go. "and what about that girl you’ve been seeing? can't you make her come over for some fun? party's great, shame she couldn't make it."

jay looks completely flustered now, his eyes going wide as he stumbles over his words. "we’re not, like, serious or anything. just hanging out."

"still 'just hanging out,' huh?" you tease, taking another step closer, and now you can see the way he’s nervously shifting from foot to foot, his cheeks flushed red. god, he’s a cute mess.

"yeah," jay mumbles, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a brief second before he quickly looks away again.

you laugh softly, cutting him off again. "relax, jay. i’m not grilling you." but the way your heart’s racing tells a different story. why does this feel so intense all of a sudden? maybe it’s the alcohol.

jay’s still staring at the floor, shifting uncomfortably, clearly trying to gather his thoughts, but he’s failing at hiding how flustered he is. "i just… didn’t think you’d care."

"why wouldn’t i care?" you ask, your voice softer now, trying to ease him out of whatever mess of feelings he's stuck in. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, vulnerable for a moment, but then he looks away again.

"you’ve never been so curious about me before," he mutters, his voice barely above the music. "we’ve known each other for years, 'cause of hanna, but… you never really asked me questions about myself."

his words hang heavy between you two, the weight of years of unnoticed glances and quiet moments suddenly crashing down. it's not an accusation—just a quiet truth. you'd always been caught up in your own world, and jay had been right there the whole time. you felt bad.

“jay…” you start, but the words don’t come out as you hoped. it’s harder than you thought, confronting the reality that you’ve been blind to him all this time.

he finally looks up, meeting your gaze, and for a second, you can see the frustration and confusion bubbling under the surface. "yeah?"

you hesitate, not wanting to dive too deep into all the messy feelings swirling between you two. instead, you decide to lighten things up, if only for a moment. "where’s heeseung, anyway? thought you two were inseparable tonight."

jay blinks, looking surprised by the change in topic. "uh… heeseung? he’s probably somewhere getting even more drunk," he mutters, glancing around the room briefly. "he disappears when he drinks. tries to avoid embarrassing himself, i think."

you can’t help but chuckle at that. "yeah, i did see him turn red after like one drink. kinda cute, honestly."

jay’s expression softens slightly, the tension between you both easing, though he still seems unsure. "yeah, that’s him," he says, his voice a little lighter now.

"so… what about you?" you ask, biting your lip, your heart beating a little faster. "i mean, are you avoiding embarrassing yourself, too?"

jay laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances around, clearly feeling a bit off-balance. "um, yeah, i’m trying. but i’m starting to get a little drunk, so…" he trails off, placing his cup on a nearby shelf with an awkward, almost cute, gesture.

you can’t help but smile at how flustered he is, but the air between you is still heavy with the unsaid. it’s like there’s this invisible line you both keep dancing around, but neither of you is willing to cross it.

“you’re not doing a bad job so far,” you tease lightly, stepping closer. your heart’s pounding, the alcohol loosening your tongue more than usual. “though i wouldn’t say you’re avoiding embarrassment. not entirely, anyway.”

just then, as if summoned by the awkward tension hanging in the air, heeseung comes rushing in, his face red, flushed even more than before. his hair’s a mess, and he’s panting slightly, looking like he just barely made it through whatever disaster he’s been avoiding.

“hey, guys!” he blurts out, clearly drunk, his words slurring just a little as he stumbles into the room. his eyes flick between you and jay, not noticing the thick air of tension he just walked into.

“thought i’d find you here—what’s going on?” he says, grinning like he hasn’t just completely derailed whatever moment you and jay were having.

you and jay both freeze, caught off guard by heeseung’s sudden appearance. you can’t help but laugh softly at the timing, shaking your head as the moment you were sharing with jay evaporates into the background.

"heeseung, man," jay mutters, trying to keep his voice steady as he looks at his friend. "where’ve you been? you’re looking… rough."

heeseung waves him off, stumbling slightly as he leans on the wall for support. "don’t worry ‘bout me. just had a few too many, I guess." he grins, then looks at you with that drunken charm only heeseung could pull off. “but damn, am i interrupting something? you two look like you’re in the middle of a moment.”

jay groans under his breath, rubbing his face in frustration, while you can’t help but snicker at the situation. of course heeseung would show up now, right when jay finally had some alone time with you. well kinda—minus the other people partying.

“nah, just talking,” you say, waving him off, though you catch jay giving you a quick glance, his expression still a little tight. “what about you, heeseung? you look like you’re about to pass out.”

heeseung grins sheepishly, his face still bright red from drinking. “maybe. but I’m still standing! barely,” he jokes, clearly unaware of the tension between you and jay. "but hey, good to see you two getting along. for a second, i thought i was gonna have to play wingman."

“wingman? for who?” you tease, feeling a bit more playful now that the moment with jay has been interrupted.

jay shifts uncomfortably beside you, clearly caught off guard by heeseung’s drunken boldness. his eyes flick to you, waiting to see how you’d react, and when you just laugh and shake your head at heeseung’s comment, jay groans under his breath.

fuck, heeseung.

unable to hide his embarrassment, jay moves quickly, throwing an arm around heeseung in a side hug. but it’s not exactly friendly—more like a half-hearted attempt to pull him close and, at the same time, silently threaten him into shutting the hell up.

"yeah, okay, man," jay mutters through gritted teeth, rubbing heeseung’s shoulder in a way that would seem affectionate if it wasn’t for the slight squeeze of warning. "you’ve had enough. let’s not make things worse for you."

heeseung, still too drunk to fully catch on, just laughs, grinning as he looks between you and jay. “what? i’m just being honest! i mean, the guy’s been staring at you like—"

jay tightens his grip on heeseung’s shoulder, cutting him off with a forced chuckle. “alright, alright, that’s enough out of you.” he pats heeseung a little harder than necessary, shooting him a look that practically screams shut the fuck up before you make this worse.

you can’t help but find the whole thing amusing, watching jay struggle between mortification and trying to keep heeseung from spilling any more embarrassing truths. “looks like someone’s about to get dragged home,” you tease, biting back a grin as you watch the two of them.

jay throws you a look, his face still red from embarrassment. “yeah, and it’s about to be this guy,” he says, giving heeseung one last squeeze before loosening his grip.

heeseung, still grinning like an idiot, doesn’t seem to mind. “whatever, man,” he mutters, swaying slightly. “i’m just trying to help.”

you laugh, shaking your head. "help, huh? i’m not sure how much help you’re being right now."

"he’s not," jay groans, letting go of heeseung and stepping back, trying to recover from the mess his friend just created. his eyes meet yours again, still flustered but with a hint of nervousness, like he’s wondering if you’re taking this all in stride.

"but he’s right, you know," you say suddenly, your voice teasing but carrying a little more weight now as you look at jay. "you were staring."

"i-i… don’t have a rebuttal for that," jay stammers, his face flushing deeper as he struggles to maintain his composure. you can tell he’s embarrassed, completely thrown off by how the night’s turned out, and it’s honestly kind of adorable.

just then, heeseung suddenly sways, looking like he’s about to pass out. jay’s eyes widen with worry, and without hesitation, he wraps an arm around his drunken friend. “shit, he’s about to drop,” jay mutters, looking at you quickly. “i need to get him to my room before he makes a scene.”

you nod, stepping in to help, guiding heeseung’s other side as the three of you stumble through the house. the party’s still loud in the background, but the farther you get, the more it fades into a distant hum. it’s almost a relief when you make it to jay’s room, the door shutting behind you, instantly muffling the chaos outside.

as jay sets heeseung down on the bed, you take a moment to glance around. damn. you haven’t been in here in years, and it’s clear things have changed.

gone are the comic books and posters that once covered his walls. now, jay’s room has a more refined, almost minimalist vibe. his gaming setup is still the centerpiece, of course, but everything else—his sleek furniture, expensive-looking decor—makes it clear that he’s grown up in more ways than one. who knew jay had such expensive taste?

"wow," you say, unable to help yourself. "i remember when me and hanna used to sneak in here and steal your comic books."

jay chuckles, glancing over at you as he pulls a blanket over heeseung. “yeah, those were the days. back when you barely even noticed i existed,” he says it lightheartedly, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his voice.

you laugh, shaking your head as you take in the room. "well, your room’s definitely grown up. fancy, even."

jay smirks, leaning against the wall, finally a bit more relaxed now that heeseung’s out cold. “what can i say? things change. i figured it was time to upgrade.”

“clearly,” you say, raising an eyebrow at his setup. “you look like you’ve got your life together now.”

“well, appearances can be deceiving,” jay mutters, a slight smile playing on his lips as he crosses his arms, looking at you with that same vulnerable expression from earlier.

there’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you again. the party feels like a world away now, and for the first time tonight, you’re both alone.

as you stand there, the weight of the moment heavy between you and jay, you feel your legs move before you really think about it. you sit down on the edge of the bed, glancing at heeseung, who’s already out cold, sprawled out and snoring softly. the sight of him, completely knocked out, makes you chuckle softly under your breath.

“looks like he’s done for the night,” you murmur, leaning back slightly, your hand brushing the soft fabric of the bedspread. jay’s bed. it’s something small, insignificant even, but the realization hits you—you’re sitting on his bed.

and jay… well, if you could see inside his mind right now, it’d be a mess of chaos. holy shit, she’s sitting on my bed. his heart’s pounding, his brain scrambling to process the fact that the girl he’s been crushing on for years is casually sitting on his bed, her presence making the room feel smaller, more intimate.

god, if only it’d smell like her. jay inwardly groans, leaning against the wall, trying to play it cool. but every second you stay there, it feels like his mind is short-circuiting.

he’s had dreams about this exact scenario—well, maybe without the passed-out heeseung—but still, this was close enough to make him freak out inwardly. he’s trying not to stare, but he’s doing a terrible job of hiding how flustered he is.

“he’s gonna be feeling that tomorrow,” you say, looking up at jay, noticing how he hasn’t said much since you sat down. his face is a little too composed, like he’s trying not to let on how much this is messing with him.

jay laughs, but it’s awkward, his throat dry. “yeah, he’s gonna hate himself in the morning.” he forces himself to focus on something else—anything else—but his mind keeps drifting back to the fact that you’re sitting on his bed. fuck.

you glance around the room again, taking in how different everything feels now. “you’ve really grown up, jay,” you say softly, a teasing edge to your voice. “i mean, i remember when this room was all comics and random junk. now it’s… well, it’s like you.”

jay’s eyes snap to yours, and he swallows hard. “yeah, well… like i said, things change.”

there’s a charged silence, and you can feel the tension settling between you two again, heavier than before. jay shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell to say.

say something, idiot, his mind screams.

but the sight of you, sitting there so casually on his bed, your presence filling the space, is making it impossible for him to think straight. all he can think about is how he’s wanted this—wanted you—for so long, and now you’re here, and it feels too good to be true.

"so, are you also turning in for the night?" you ask jay, your voice soft but teasing, as you glance over at him.

he freezes for a second, not expecting the question. his eyes flick to heeseung, passed out on the bed, then back to you, sitting there looking way too comfortable for him to handle. holy shit, what do i even say?

"uh, no, not yet," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "i mean, i probably should, but…"

but the sight of you sitting on his bed, casually asking if he’s turning in for the night, is making his mind spin. fuck, this is not how I thought tonight would go, were you thinking he still had his own bedtime?

you raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small smirk. "what? you too flustered to sleep?"

jay groans inwardly, his face turning even redder. "no, i just—i wasn’t planning on crashing yet, that’s all."

you chuckle softly, leaning back slightly, your hand still resting on the bed. "well, it’s your room, so if you wanna sleep, don’t let me stop you."

jay’s heart is racing. sleep? with you sitting there? yeah, right. he’s practically screaming inside, trying to figure out how to play this cool, but everything feels impossible right now. the tension, the proximity, the fact that you’re casually sitting on his bed like it’s no big deal—it’s all driving him insane.

"nah, i’ll, uh, hang out a bit more," jay says, his voice a little steadier now, but his eyes give him away. he’s nervous, caught up in the moment, and trying desperately not to make it awkward.

"you sure?" you ask, teasing him just a little, sensing how flustered he is.

"yeah, i’m good," he mutters, but his eyes are still glued to you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, the way he’s struggling to keep his composure.

there’s a silence between you two, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s charged, like something’s building, and neither of you is sure what the next step is.

"you’re acting weird," you finally say, breaking the tension with a playful smile.

jay laughs, but it’s nervous. "yeah, well… it’s not every day you sit on my bed, you know?" he admits, his voice quiet, but his words hit deeper than either of you expected.

"what?" you almost laugh, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. the fact that jay had been talking to a girl recently—someone who clearly had his attention—somehow makes this even more amusing. the contrast between his awkwardness now and the idea of him being confident enough to date just hits differently.

"you’re acting like this is the first time a girl’s sat on your bed," you tease, the words slipping out with a smirk. you lean back a little, watching him squirm. "but you’ve been talking to this girl, right? what’s her name again?"

jay’s face flushes even deeper, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for a second. he scratches the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable now. "yeah, well… that’s different."

"oh? different how?" you ask, still teasing, but now there’s a genuine curiosity building inside you. it’s hard to picture jay this flustered around someone else, especially when he’s always been so awkward with you.

as your eyes drift around the room again, they land on the corner where his trash bin sits. everything else in his room is pristine, almost too perfect, but the mess around the trash catches your attention. then, something makes you pause.

huh? your eyes narrow as you take in what you’re seeing—a used condom wrapper, crumpled at the top of the bin.

the movement catches jay’s attention, and he follows your eyes to the corner of the room. the second he realizes what you’re looking at, his whole body tenses, and his face flushes red again, but this time, it’s not just embarrassment. defensive mode activated.

“shit—it’s not what it looks like!” jay blurts out, scrambling to say something before you can even comment. his voice comes out high-pitched, panicked, and he throws his hands up as if he can somehow stop you from thinking what you’re clearly already thinking.

"oh, really?" you raise an eyebrow, your voice teasing, as you glance between him and the trash bin. "because it looks like someone had a little fun recently."

"no, no, no," jay stammers, his eyes darting around the room like he's searching for an escape. "i mean, yeah, but it’s not—fuck." he groans, rubbing his face with his hands. "this is so embarrassing."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing, but the grin’s already spreading across your face. "jay," you say, trying and failing to hide your amusement. "you don’t have to explain yourself. i mean, it's a condom wrapper. it speaks for itself, man."

he groans louder, clearly flustered and struggling to defend himself. “okay, fine, yeah, but—look, it’s not what you think..”

you tilt your head, genuinely curious now, but still teasing. "i mean, it’s pretty simple—girl, guy, wrapper—”

“please stop,” jay groans, cutting you off, his hands covering his face in full-blown embarrassment now. "this is literally the last conversation i wanted to have tonight."

"oh, come on," you laugh, leaning forward. "i gotta hear this."

"it's not that big of a deal," jay mutters, still trying to dodge the conversation, but you can tell he’s squirming under the weight of your teasing.

"oh, but it is," you tease, your grin wide now.

he lets out another groan, this time softer, more resigned, as he sinks back against the wall. "this is so fucking embarrassing."

jay, still visibly flustered and probably dying inside from the teasing, looks at you cautiously. his eyes flick from you to the bed, then back to you.

you can tell he wants to sit down, maybe get closer, but there's one problem—heeseung, sprawled out like a deadweight, has taken up almost the entire bed. his legs are hanging off the edge, and you’re already sitting on the last bit of available space.

jay hesitates, biting his lip as he steps closer. he looks at you, almost shy, clearly debating whether he should even attempt it.

"there’s, uh… not really anywhere for me to sit," he mutters, his voice low and awkward.

you glance at the bed and can’t help but snicker at the situation. "yeah, heeseung’s kind of hogging all the space, huh?"

jay nods, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "yeah. guess I’ll just stand."

you look up at him, still teasing, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but feel a little bad for how awkward this is for him. “well, you could sit, but you’d probably have to, uh… move me.”

jay’s eyes widen slightly, and you can practically see his brain short-circuiting as he processes what you just said. “move you?” he stammers, looking even more unsure of what to do.

“yeah,” you smirk, leaning back a little, enjoying watching him squirm. “unless you want to sit on me, which might be a little… much.”

jay’s face flushes bright red, and he looks at the floor, clearly trying to figure out how to navigate this without combusting from embarrassment. “i’ll… uh, I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, taking another hesitant step closer to the bed.

“you sure?” you tease, watching him struggle. “i don’t bite, jay.”

he swallows hard, still standing awkwardly beside the bed, clearly torn between wanting to sit and not wanting to make things even more awkward than they already are.

jay, clearly at the end of his rope with the awkwardness, finally sighs and says, “can you please move?” his voice is a little hesitant, but there’s a hint of desperation in it, like he’s trying his hardest to keep it together.

you raise an eyebrow, surprised he actually asked, but you can’t help but smile. “oh, so now you’re just kicking me off the bed?” you tease, but there’s no bite in your tone.

“no! no, that’s not… that’s not what I meant,” he stammers, his face flushing even more, clearly mortified at how it came out. “i just—there’s no room and—ugh, never mind.”

he rubs his face with his hands, groaning in frustration, and you realize how much you’ve been teasing him all night. maybe it’s time to ease up.

“alright, alright,” you laugh softly, finally scooting over to the side a bit, making room for him. “relax, jay. i’m just messing with you.”

he looks at you with a mixture of relief and lingering embarrassment as he awkwardly slides onto the bed next to you, carefully avoiding heeseung’s sprawled-out limbs. the bed dips slightly under his weight, and you’re suddenly much closer to him than you expected.

the air between you feels hot again, the teasing fading into something heavier, more serious. you glance over at jay, who’s still looking flustered, but there’s something in his eyes now—something deeper.

"thanks," he mumbles, not quite looking at you, but you can see the tension in his shoulders relax just a little.

"so?" you drawl, your voice teasing, hanging in the air between you two for a moment. but before jay can even process what’s happening, you stand up quickly, the sudden movement causing your perfume to linger in the air around him. it’s intoxicating, and for a second, jay freezes, his heart caught in his throat as he watches you leave the room with a playful smirk and a slam of the door behind you.

he’s left sitting there, staring at the spot where you’d been, his heart sinking for just a moment, thinking maybe that was it. maybe you were done messing with him for the night.

but not even a minute later, you re-enter the room, the sounds of the party still going strong behind you. you’ve got two cups in your hands, and without a word, you walk back over to him, handing one to jay with a small grin.

"here," you say simply, offering the cup.

jay takes it, still looking a little dazed, blinking up at you like he’s trying to piece together what just happened. "uh, thanks," he mutters, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the cup from you. the tension is back—thick and palpable—as you sit back down beside him.

"you thought i was ditching you, didn’t you?" you tease, leaning back against the bedpost, watching his expression closely.

jay chuckles nervously, taking a sip from the cup to steady himself. "maybe a little. i thought i scared you off."

"please," you laugh, shaking your head. "takes more than awkward flirting and heeseung passed out on your bed to scare me away."

he laughs, too, though there’s still that undercurrent of tension. he looks down at his cup, then back at you, his smile softer now. "i’m glad you didn’t."

there’s a beat of silence between you both, you’re sitting close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and for the first time tonight, jay’s not looking away.

"so," you say again, your voice softer this time, but still carrying that teasing edge as you lean just a little closer to him. "you gonna tell me how you got your cherry popped?"

jay practically chokes on his drink, eyes widening as he looks at you in shock. his face flushes a deep red again, and for a moment, you think he might actually implode from sheer embarrassment.

"w-what?!" he stammers, his voice cracking slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question. "i… shit—"

you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off before he can finish. "jay, c’mon. i’m not judging you or anything. just… curious. seems like there’s a story here."

he groans, covering his face with one hand, clearly dying inside. "this is so embarrassing," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you’re really not gonna let this go, are you?"

"nope," you grin, taking a sip from your drink, enjoying how flustered he’s getting. "i mean, you’ve been hiding it from me this whole time. it’s only fair I get the details now."

jay exhales sharply, clearly torn between wanting to crawl under a rock and just giving in to your relentless teasing. finally, he lowers his hand, meeting your gaze, though his face is still burning red.

"fine," he mutters, glancing at the floor like he’s trying to find the right words. "but it’s not… it’s not what you think, okay?"

you lean in, eyes glinting with amusement. "oh, now I really wanna hear this."

jay rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable but knowing he’s not getting out of this one. "it was just… one time. with someone I met, like, a few weeks ago," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "it wasn’t a big deal. nothing serious."

"someone you met?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. "was it the girl you’ve been talking to?"

he hesitates, then nods slowly. "yeah, her. but… like I said, it wasn’t serious. just… something that happened." he looks away again, clearly embarrassed, and you can tell he’s trying to downplay it.

you study him for a moment, the teasing smile still on your lips but softening a little. "so, was it good?" you ask, your tone gentler now.

god, you wished you didn’t ask. the moment the question leaves your lips, and jay’s face flushes even deeper, you feel a strange twist in your stomach—an unease that wasn’t there before. sure, you’d been teasing him all night, but now, the answer feels heavier than you expected.

"i mean… yeah?" jay says, his voice awkward, paired with that nervous laugh you’ve grown used to. but there’s something about his response that stings, a strange tightness in your chest as the reality of what you asked settles in.

you force a smile, trying to push through the sudden tension you didn’t expect. "well, congrats on finally joining the club," you say, though your voice lacks its usual bite. shit, why does this feel weird?

jay chuckles, but it’s quieter now. "yeah, well… better late than never, right?"

you nod, taking a long sip from your drink, trying to focus on something else, anything to get rid of this strange feeling gnawing at you. but it’s too late—the image of jay with someone else, feeling that same awkward tension with them, suddenly makes your stomach churn in a way you can’t explain.

you glance at him again, noticing how his eyes avoid yours, his face still red from the conversation. why did i even ask that?

"and you like this girl?" the question leaves your lips before you can think twice about it, hanging in the air between you like a challenge. you’re not sure why you asked, but now that it’s out there, you can’t take it back.

jay looks caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the question. he blinks, taking a deep breath, clearly not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “i mean… I don’t know,” he mutters, looking down at his hands. "again, it just… happened."

the way he says it, casual but unsure, only makes that weird, unsettled feeling in your chest tighten. you nod, trying to play it off, but something about the whole situation is starting to weigh on you.

"just happened, huh?" you say, your voice softer, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t quite hide.

jay shifts uncomfortably, clearly sensing the shift in your mood. "yeah. we don’t really talk anymore. it was… it didn’t mean much."

you look at him, studying his face for any sign of regret or emotion, but he seems genuinely unsure. it didn’t mean much. that should make you feel better, but it doesn’t. not really. it just leaves more questions hanging between you both—questions neither of you are ready to answer.

"so, no feelings?" you ask, and the words come out a little sharper than you intended.

"no," jay says quickly, his voice steady but cautious. "no feelings. it wasn’t like that."

but then, jay’s expression shifts into one of deep thought, his brow furrowing slightly, but a small smile tugs at his lips as he takes a sip from his drink.

you watch him closely, noticing for the first time how much he’s already had—his glass is halfway done, yet he doesn’t even seem the least bit drunk. except for those bloodshot eyes, you think, startled by how well he’s handling the alcohol. you swore you gave him a strong one, and yet here he is, not even wincing as he swallows.

and just as you're about to comment on it, jay sets his drink down and glances at you, the smile still lingering on his lips. his voice is calm but holds something beneath the surface, something you can’t quite place.

"there is someone i'd like to fuck though."

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets at jay's sudden, blunt confession, the words hanging in the air like a bombshell. what the hell happened to the shy, stammering guy from earlier? he’s sitting there, calm as ever, sipping his drink like he didn’t just drop the most loaded statement of the night.

your heart races, caught between the shock and the possibility that he might be talking about you. he’s been crushing on you for years, right? that’s what you’ve always thought, that underlying tension you’ve both danced around. but now, the way he’s speaking—completely unflustered, so damn confident—has you second-guessing everything. was I wrong? did he get over me?

the room feels like it’s shrinking, trying to read the shift in his demeanor. he’s not the awkward mess you’re used to. he’s subtly changed—grown into something more composed, more sure of himself—and it’s throwing you completely off balance.

"w-whoa, okay, that’s… bold," you manage to say, your voice faltering just a bit. you want to ask him if he’s talking about you, but something about the way he’s sitting there, totally relaxed, makes you hesitate. fuck, am I not the one he’s talking about?

you swallowed thickly, "so…" you start, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays your nervousness. "anyone i know?"

jay tilts his head slightly, his gaze still locked on yours, and for a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something familiar. "yeah," he says simply, his voice smooth and controlled. "you know her pretty well."

the words send your heart racing even faster, and now you’re caught in the middle of two conflicting thoughts: is it me? or has he really moved on?

you force a laugh, trying to break the tension that’s building in the room. "oh, so we’re playing guessing games now?" you say, hoping to keep the conversation light, but there’s a tightness in your chest that won’t go away.

just as you're about to press him further, heeseung suddenly shifts on the bed, letting out a groan as he stirs from his drunken slumber. the sound breaks the moment like a snap, making you both jump slightly.

jay glances at heeseung, his calm demeanor faltering for a second as the distraction pulls him back to reality. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, clearly frustrated by the interruption. he leans over, checking to make sure heeseung isn’t about to puke or do something equally as disastrous.

you, on the other hand, take the opportunity to let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. thank god for heeseung’s terrible timing, you think, but part of you can’t shake the frustration of the conversation being cut short. who the hell is he talking about?

heeseung groans again, rolling onto his back, his arm flopping dramatically over his face. “fuck… what’d I miss?” he slurs, still clearly out of it.

jay sighs, running a hand through his hair as he straightens up. “nothing, man. you’re fine. just… go back to sleep.”

you glance at jay, wondering if he’s relieved by the interruption or annoyed, but it’s hard to tell. his expression has shifted back to neutral, his earlier confidence tucked away behind a mask of casual indifference.

heeseung groans again, clearly not going back to sleep anytime soon, and you watch as jay leans back, his posture more relaxed, though you can tell he’s still tense underneath.

but heeseung, in his half-conscious state, has other plans. "don’t tell me you’re fucking jennie again, i swear to god," he mumbles, his words slurred but loud enough to slice through the tense air in the room.

you freeze, blinking at heeseung's unexpected outburst. jennie? again? your mind races, and you glance at jay, waiting for his reaction.

who the hell is jennie?

jay stiffens, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he quickly looks between you and heeseung. "heeseung," he mutters sharply, "shut up, man. you’re drunk."

"what?" heeseung slurs, barely managing to sit up slightly. "you said you were done. don’t get back into that shit."

jay looks mortified now, his eyes flicking to you, and you can see the panic settling in. great, so there’s another girl in the mix? your stomach tightens at the idea, and suddenly, the confidence he’d been showing earlier makes a lot more sense.

the silence that follows is deafening. you cross your arms, waiting, your heartbeat racing as you stare at jay, demanding an answer without saying a word.

jay clenches his jaw, running his hand through his hair, clearly scrambling to figure out how to explain this without making things worse. but how the fuck do you explain something like that?

the truth—that "jennie" isn’t a person at all, but a branded sex doll jay bought to… well, think of you—is something he could never, ever tell you. even just thinking about it makes his stomach twist. he feels a surge of guilt, embarrassment, and frustration, especially because the way you’re looking at him right now makes it clear you’re already jumping to conclusions.

but there’s no way he can let you keep thinking that jennie is some girl he’s hooking up with. he knows that this is the moment that’ll define the rest of the night and the rest of his life considering you were hanna's best friend and he girl he's loved for ages.

he takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. "it’s… not what you think," he says, his voice strained, clearly aware of how bad this looks but unable to give you the truth just yet.

"no, y/n, no," jay blurts out, his voice more desperate now, standing quickly as you begin to move, forcing a smile as if you're trying to brush off the situation.

"it's fine, jay," you say, though the forced smile on your face doesn’t reach your eyes. "seriously, i do realize it's none of my business, sorry for being too nosy, i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

you stand, fully intending to leave the room, the tension between you both now so thick it’s suffocating. you glance at heeseung, ready to use him as an excuse to get out of there, but before you can, jay reaches out, stopping you with a hand on your arm.

"no, wait," jay says, his voice strained but determined. fuck, he thinks, he has to say something—anything—before this spirals further out of control.

in a panic, jay’s eyes dart to heeseung, who’s still half out of it, sprawled on the bed. without warning, jay leans over and smacks him hard on the leg, making him jerk violently.

"ow, what the—" heeseung yelps, jolting awake, his head spinning as he finally takes in his surroundings. his eyes land on you, and a slow, confused grin spreads across his face. "oh… hey, y/n. didn’t realize you were here," he slurs, rubbing his eyes like he’s just now figuring out where he is.

"yeah, well, i'm here," you say, your voice clipped as you try to hide your frustration. you cross your arms, glancing at jay, who's still standing there, looking like he's barely holding it together.

"heeseung, man, you gotta help me out here," jay mutters under his breath, his hand still lingering on your arm, trying to figure out a way to salvage this whole mess.

heeseung, still half-drunk and confused, blinks at jay before looking between the two of you. "help you out?" he echoes, his voice thick with sleep. "with what?"

"just… don’t say anything else, alright?" jay groans, his face flushing with frustration. he doesn’t know how to explain this without making things worse, but heeseung’s loose tongue is the last thing he needs right now.

heeseung’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to piece it together, but then his face lights up like he’s just remembered something. "ohhh, right! jennie!" he blurts out, still grinning like an idiot.

jay freezes, his hand dropping from your arm, and for a second, he looks like he might actually strangle heeseung.

"yeah, jennie," you say, your voice cutting through the air like a knife.

jay looks at you, his heart sinking. fuck. this is it. if he doesn’t explain this now, it’s over.

"heeseung, get the fuck out," jay snaps, his voice low and tense, frustration finally boiling over.

heeseung blinks at him, clearly still too drunk to understand the gravity of the situation, but even in his drunken state, he seems to realize that jay isn’t messing around. "uh… yeah, okay, man," he mumbles, swinging his legs off the bed and stumbling to his feet, barely managing to stay upright.

"seriously, heeseung, just go," jay adds, his tone sharp, eyes never leaving you as he waits for heeseung to get out of the room.

heeseung, still dazed, finally stumbles toward the door. "alright, alright, i'm going," he slurs, shooting you a sheepish grin as he passes by. "sorry for, uh… y'know." and with that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

the room falls into an unbearable silence, the air between you and jay thick with tension. you stand there, arms crossed, your heart racing, waiting for him to say something—anything to explain this jennie situation.

jay sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looks at the floor, clearly struggling with what to say next. "y/n…" he starts, his voice softer now, but still full of nerves. "i need to explain."

"yeah, you do," you say, your voice cold. "because right now, it sounds like there’s some girl named jennie who you’ve been fucking, and you’ve been lying to me about it this whole time."

you didn’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend or anything, but the words came out sharper than you intended. god, you hadn’t meant it that way, but something about the whole situation got under your skin.

jay, however, didn’t even catch the implication. he was too hyper focused on making sure you didn’t get the wrong idea, too panicked about you thinking there was some actual girl involved. he didn’t even realize you were interested—actually interested—in him.

jay winces at the sharpness in your tone, his face reddening. "no, no… it’s not like that," he says quickly, taking a step toward you. "jennie’s not… she’s not a girl."

you blink, caught off guard by his words. "what do you mean she’s not a girl?"

jay rubs the back of his neck, clearly mortified. "she’s, uh… she’s a… sex doll."

your jaw drops, and for a second, you don’t even know how to respond. "a what?" you ask, your voice a mix of disbelief and shock.

jay’s face flushes even deeper. "yeah… i know. it sounds bad. but jennie’s not some girl i’ve been hooking up with. she’s just… this thing i got a while back, and… fuck, this is embarrassing."

the room goes silent again as you process what he just said, your mind racing. a sex doll? you’re not sure if you should laugh or feel weird about it, but suddenly the whole situation takes on a completely different light.

"so… jennie’s a doll?" you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around it.

jay nods, his face still burning red as he glances at you nervously. "yeah. and… it's stupid, i know," he mutters, shifting awkwardly, clearly wishing he could be anywhere but here.

"but i bought it, and… practiced?" his face scrunches up, like he’s wincing just at the thought of admitting it. he starts pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly mortified by what he’s confessing.

"practiced?" you repeat, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. holy shit.

"yeah," jay mutters, his voice tight with embarrassment. he runs his hands through his hair, groaning as the weight of his confession settles in.

"y/n, can you leave? i’ve literally embarrassed myself in front of you, and there’s no way I can ever come back from this. laugh all you want, okay? just not here."

before you can respond, jay’s hands are already on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you toward the door. you’re too caught off guard to protest, still processing everything he just confessed. the awkwardness, the vulnerability, the tension—it’s all hitting you at once, and before you know it, you’re standing just outside his room.

“jay, wait—" you start, but he shakes his head, his face flushed as he tries to avoid eye contact.

"seriously, just go, y/n," he says, his voice rough as he closes the door partway.

he’s clearly mortified, and you can hear it in his voice. it’s not like the shy, awkward jay you’ve known—it’s different. heavier. but before you can say anything else, the door shuts in front of you with a soft click.

you stand there, staring at the closed door, your mind racing. the tension between you, the rawness of jay’s confession—it lingers in the air. you’re not laughing. you’re not even thinking of laughing. all you can think about is the vulnerability in his voice and the weight of everything he just laid out in front of you.

and fuck, if you didn’t find it hot. what the hell?

you’re standing there, outside jay’s door, and the only thing running through your mind is how his vulnerability, the embarrassment, the rawness of it all—it was unexpectedly hot. you bite your lip, feeling your pulse quicken as you replay the conversation in your head.

what the fuck is wrong with me? you should be laughing, cringing, anything but standing here with your heart racing like this. every word jay said, every embarrassed stammer, it’s all stuck in your head. it should feel gross, but fuck, it doesn’t. instead, it’s making your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral.

he’s a pervert, and it’s making you wet. you’re standing here, outside his room, thinking about jennie.

your body reacts in a way you didn’t expect, and you hate it, but you can’t stop it. your mind runs wild with questions, wanting to know everything. what gets him off, what he’s into. this wasn’t the night you planned, but the way you feel now? you can't deny it. it’s wrong, but it’s fucking hot.

you knock on the door, breath shallow, your body betraying you as you try to get a grip. jay’s voice comes from the other side, shaky and tired, “y/n, just… go. please.”

the words hit harder than you expect. he doesn’t even open the door. he just shuts you out.

what did you expect? you think, backing away, feeling the sting of rejection. you pushed too hard. maybe he’s just too mortified to deal with it, maybe he thinks he’s fucked things up beyond repair. either way, he told you to leave, and you have no choice but to walk away.

you step back, away from his door, your pulse still hammering in your chest. you start to walk, heading back to the party, but your mind is still on jay—on everything he didn’t say, on everything you didn’t get to hear. fuck.

the following days, jay avoided you like the plague, barely making eye contact, leaving rooms when you entered, keeping his distance like he couldn’t bear to be near you. but it did nothing to stop the way your thoughts kept drifting back to that night. if anything, his avoidance only made it worse, made you obsess over it even more.

you couldn’t stop thinking about him—about what he’d confessed, about the doll, about what he wasn’t telling you.

you even googled the jennie brand, desperate to understand more about what jay had been using, what he had been thinking about all this time. and fuck, the results sent you spiraling. there were all sorts of types—full body, partial torsos, hyper-realistic models with intricate details.

it was almost overwhelming, seeing just how many versions there were. some were life-sized, some were just the lower half, and the descriptions made it clear these things were made to feel as close to real as possible.

your mind ran wild, picturing jay with one of them. which one did he get? was it a full-sized model that he could hold, position, fuck like it was real?

you couldn't stop yourself from imagining it—him in his room, with that doll, your name on his lips while he fucked it. your pulse quickened, your body betraying you with how much this idea turned you on. what the fuck is wrong with me? but you couldn’t stop. the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to know everything.

and the more jay avoided you, the worse it got. it wasn’t just the doll—it was him, everything he’d been hiding. fuck, you needed to talk to him, to get him to open up again,

you were helping hanna load some groceries into the kitchen, bags of chips, bottles of tequila, mixers—everything you’d expect for one of her infamous parties. she was chattering away about the guest list when she suddenly paused, her face scrunching up.

"shit," she muttered, checking her phone. "i forgot the lemons for the tequila shots."

you raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. “kinda essential for tequila, don’t you think?”

hanna sighed dramatically, already grabbing her keys off the counter. “i know, i know. i’m such a mess. i’ll run to the store real quick and grab them. you cool here for a bit?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone casual as you asked, “is jay home?”

hanna paused, looking over her shoulder. “nah, he’s not. he’s been out doing… whatever, avoiding people, i guess.” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “he’s been acting weird lately.”

weird, you thought. yeah, no shit.

"i’ll be back in an hour tops!" hanna called, heading out the door. as soon as it closed behind her, the house fell into a thick, heavy silence. you stood there in the kitchen for a moment, hands on the counter, the weight of everything suddenly pressing down on you.

jay’s not home. your heart raced at the thought.

your eyes flicked toward the hallway, where his room was. you knew you shouldn’t. this is wrong, you told yourself. but your curiosity had been eating at you for days—about him, about jennie, about what exactly jay had been hiding.

and now, here you were, in his house, alone. the temptation was gnawing at you, pulling you toward his room.

just a quick look, you rationalized, biting your lip. your feet moved before your brain could stop you, carrying you down the hallway, closer to jay’s door. you reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment as your heart pounded in your chest.

your mind continued to pull you in different directions, don’t do this. this is wrong. but fuck, you couldn’t help it. the need to know, to see for yourself, was too strong.

you twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. jay’s room was neat, not surprising, the clothes draped over the back of a chair and shoe boxes placeed neatly on one of his dressers, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. but what caught your attention was the nightstand next to his bed.

your pulse quickened as you stepped further into the room, your eyes locking onto the drawer. could it be in there?

you knew it was wrong but your hands were already moving, your fingers curling around the drawer handle, tugging it open.

you felt a surge of frustration as you rummaged through jay’s room, your heart pounding in your chest. where the fuck is it? you’d already checked the nightstand—nothing. under the bed? completely spotless, not even a speck of dust. goddamn, jay was keeping his room way cleaner than yours, that’s for sure.

your mind raced as you stood there, the last possible place calling out to you—his closet. you bit your lip, knowing you were going too far, but the curiosity was killing you. you couldn’t let it go. you stepped over to the closet and pulled the door open, trying to shuffle through the clothes without making it obvious that someone had been snooping.

the scent of his clothes hit you all at once, that familiar cologne mixed with something purely jay, and god, it went straight to your core. without thinking, you grabbed one of his shirts and brought it up to your nose, inhaling deeply.

what the fuck is wrong with you? you felt a wave of heat rush through you, your body reacting to the smell of him, the idea of him—the thought of what he does when he’s alone in here.

your fingers brushed against more hangers, searching, but with every passing second, you were losing hope. maybe he got rid of it, you thought, feeling a pang of disappointment. heeseung did say he threw it away. maybe he was too embarrassed to keep it after all that.

you sighed, letting go of the shirt as you stepped back from the closet. fuck, what were you even hoping to find? maybe this was all a mistake.

just then, your thoughts were cut short by the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut. your heart jumped into your throat. no way that’s hanna—the store was like thirty minutes away. it was impossible for her to be back already.

panic set in immediately. shit, shit, shit. you froze in place for a second, your mind racing as you tried to figure out what to do. you couldn’t let jay find you here, rummaging through his room like some creep.

your heart pounded in your chest as you heard jay’s footsteps nearing. you barely had time to think, instincts kicking in as you quickly darted toward the closet.

you slipped inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible, your breath shaky. good thing this closet has gaps between the wooden slats, you thought, praying he wouldn’t notice anything out of place.

your body was pressed tight against his clothes, the lingering scent of him overwhelming your senses again. the heat between your legs intensified as you tried to focus, tried to calm your racing heart, but it was impossible. the thrill of being caught, the tension in the air—it was all too much.

from your hiding spot, you could see through the narrow slits, watching as jay entered the room. his face was unreadable, but he didn’t look happy. he seemed tense, he stood in the middle of the room for a moment, eyes scanning the area.

shit, shit. you held your breath, trying to stay as still as possible, your body pressed up against his hanging clothes. your mind raced, wondering if he knew—if somehow, he could sense that you’d been snooping, that you were still in here.

jay walked over to the nightstand, his back turned to you as he opened the drawer, rifling through it like he was looking for something. his movements were quick, agitated, and for a moment, you thought maybe he was going to leave again.

but instead, he stood there, his hand lingering on the edge of the nightstand, his shoulders tense. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t hear it.

you swallowed hard, biting your lip as you watched him, your heart still racing. does he know? you had no idea what was going to happen next, but the anticipation, the danger of it, was making your entire body hum with tension.

jay didn’t seem to notice anything suspicious at all, his tension dissolving when his phone buzzed in his pocket. you held your breath, your pulse hammering in your ears as the sound felt too loud in the cramped closet space.

your hand instinctively clasped over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your own breathing. shit, calm down, you told yourself, but fuck, it felt like you were going to give yourself away any second.

"yeah?" jay answered, voice low, irritation lacing his tone.

heeseung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for you to catch snippets of the conversation. “dude, what the fuck? you ditched class without even telling me? we could’ve bailed together!”

jay sighed heavily, clearly agitated. "i didn’t want to hang out. i just want to be alone right now."

you watched through the narrow slits of the closet door as jay pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth in frustration. fuck, this was a disaster.

you were crouched in his closet like a fucking lunatic, and the tension was making everything worse. jay's mood, your presence, the fact that he didn’t know you were right there—it all made the air thicker, heavier.

"yeah, well, next time fucking tell me, man," heeseung barked, clearly pissed. "you’re being weird as shit lately."

"i’m fine," jay snapped, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. "i just need some space."

you could feel his agitation rolling off him in waves, making you hold your breath even harder, terrified that one wrong move would give you away. his words stung more than you wanted to admit. space. was this because of you?

jay ended the call with a sharp "later," his frustration palpable as he tossed his phone onto the bed. the device landed with a soft thud, but you were too focused on him to care about anything else.

with a grunt, jay slung his backpack off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. he stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair, his agitation visible in every tense movement of his body. then, without warning, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion.

you froze, your eyes widening as you took in the sight of him. damn. jay was lean, muscles subtly defined in a way that caught you off guard. the soft light in the room highlighted the curve of his shoulders, the smooth skin of his back, the way his chest rose and fell with each agitated breath. your heart pounded harder as you stared, the heat between your legs intensifying.

it was impossible not to gawk at him. he was right there, shirtless, and you were hidden just a few feet away, watching like some kind of perverted voyeur.

jay muttered something under his breath, clearly still pissed about the call with heeseung, but you weren’t paying attention to his words. all you could focus on was his body, the way his muscles shifted as he moved. you bit your lip hard, trying to keep from making any noise, trying to control your breathing as your gaze roamed over him.

your thoughts were racing, a whirlwind of desire and guilt and sheer panic that he might catch you at any moment.

jay moved across the room, and you snapped out of your daze just in time to see him reach down toward the bottom of his dresser. is that a shoe box? you squinted, straining to see what the hell he was doing, still trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible in your cramped hiding spot.

he pulled out the box, staring at it for a moment before he opened the lid, revealing something inside that you couldn’t quite see from your angle. but whatever it was, it clearly rattled him.

“fucking hell,” jay muttered under his breath, the frustration clear in his voice. he stared down at the item inside the box like it held some kind of power over him, like just seeing it brought all that pent-up emotion crashing to the surface.

your heart pounded in your chest, curiosity eating away at you. what the hell is in that box? you bit your lip, your mind racing. it had to be something personal, something connected to everything he’d been hiding. your pulse quickened even more, your thoughts spinning wildly.

was that it? jennie?

jay ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling sharply, his body tense as if he were warring with himself internally. you could see the weight of whatever was going on inside his head, the way he seemed on edge, like he was at his breaking point.

you stayed perfectly still, not daring to move, not daring to make a sound. your heart was racing, your body reacting in ways you didn’t expect, torn between the thrill of being this close to his secret and the realization that you were seeing a side of jay no one else had.

jay pulled it out of the box, and fuck, there it was—jennie. the damn sex doll. except, it wasn’t a full-sized model like you’d imagined. it was just the lower half, tiny, just the silicone molded vagina and ass, small enough to fit in his hands.

your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him stare at it, almost like he was examining it for the first time. the way he looked at it—fuck, it was like nostalgia, like there were memories attached to this goddamn thing.

the little breath he let out, the way he turned it over in his hands, the silicone object slightly bouncing as he held it—was he going to use it?

your jaw dropped, hypnotized.

jay's fingers moved slowly, spreading the lips of the doll’s pussy open, staring inside like he was mesmerized. oh my god. your breath caught in your throat, trembling as you watched, his hands stretching the silicone flesh, spreading it as if he was testing its elasticity.

your entire body froze, torn between the raw arousal pooling deep in your core and the sheer disbelief that you were witnessing this. what the fuck, that was so hot for no reason.

your breath caught in your throat, and you nearly let out a whimper as you watched jay slide two fingers into the silicone flesh, stroking it slowly. the sight was enough to send a wave of heat straight through you, pooling between your legs. his fingers moved with practiced ease, like this wasn’t the first time he’d done this, like he knew exactly how to make it feel real, even though it was just a damn toy.

fuck, you thought, your entire body trembling. he’s really doing it.

jay’s face was focused, almost intent, as he worked his fingers inside the doll, his jaw clenched like he was trying to keep his composure. the little noises of the silicone as he moved—it was fucking obscene, and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away. every part of your body felt like it was on fire, like the tension was going to drive you over the edge just from watching him.

his thumb brushed over the entrance, spreading the lips wider as his fingers pushed deeper, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound.

the image of him, fingers deep inside that tiny doll, stroking it like he was getting ready for more—your breath shallow as you tried to stay perfectly still, terrified of making any noise, but it was so hard not to react.

your body was betraying you, the heat between your legs making you press your thighs together, desperate for relief. you were watching something so raw, so private, and the fact that you were witnessing it in secret only made it worse.

jay sighed, pulling his fingers out of the doll, the slick noise almost too loud in the quiet room. as he moved to the bed, still holding jennie in his hands. he didn’t rush; there was something methodical about the way he moved, like this was just another routine. he laid back against the headboard, his shirtless body stretched out, the sex doll resting casually on his stomach, like it was no big deal.

your mind was spinning. fuck, he was just lounging there, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a tiny fucking sex doll laying on top of him. your legs trembled, heat coursing through you as you tried to comprehend the absurdity of it all, but also how insanely hot it was in a way you couldn’t explain.

his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of the silicone, stroking it occasionally while he scrolled through whatever was on his phone. his face was relaxed, almost casual, like this was something he did often—just him and the fucking doll. your body was betraying you again, the throb between your legs becoming unbearable as you watched him, completely mesmerized.

you watched, barely able to breathe, as he smiled slightly at something on his phone. his thumbs moved quickly, typing away—probably responding to something or commenting on a post.

then you heard it: heeseung’s voice, loud and obnoxious, screaming some game jargon, the sounds of gunfire and explosions cutting through the air. of course, you thought, recognizing the chaos. heeseung had probably posted some video of his latest gameplay, and jay seemed to be getting a kick out of it.

then, suddenly, jay’s face grew somber, and you froze in place, holding your breath. your heart nearly stopped when you heard your own voice boom from his phone.

"LET’S PARTYY!!" you and hanna’s voices echoed, loud and clear—it was the video you’d posted earlier when you were out shopping for tonight, holding bottles of tequila, grinning like idiots. oh no, you thought, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. he was watching your story.

his expression shifted, his smile fading into something more complicated, like he was torn between emotions he wasn’t sure how to process. you saw him sigh, his fingers pausing as he stared at the screen for a moment, biting his lip in thought. his eyes then darted down to jennie—and your breath hitched when you saw him squeeze the silicone doll tighter, his knuckles whitening slightly.

shit, you thought, trembling, feeling a rush of heat go straight through you as you watched him. the weight of everything became almost unbearable. he’s thinking about you. you could feel it. he was sitting there, staring at your story, your voice ringing in his ears, and here he was, gripping the fucking sex doll as if that could somehow make the tension inside him go away

and just like that, jay cursed under his breath before shoving his phone aside and ridding himself of his pants in one swift motion. "y/n," he groaned, the sound muffled as he buried his face in his pillow. your name on his lips, so raw, sent a shockwave through you that made your entire body tremble. fuck.

he shifted onto his stomach, laying there with jennie still clutched in his hands, bringing it closer to his face. you could see the way his muscles tensed and relaxed, like he was trying to keep control but couldn’t. his fingers traced over the silicone as if it were you, his frustration and desire clear in every movement. he still scrolled through his phone for a moment, but it was aimless now, just something to distract him while the thoughts in his head spun out of control.

he groaned your name again, this time a little louder, his breath ragged as he gripped jennie tighter. your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it, your entire body frozen as you watched, hidden in the closet. the tension in the room, the raw desire spilling from him.

you almost gagged, your hand instinctively flying to your mouth as you watched jay shamelessly dive in, pressing his face against the silicone pussy lips of the doll.

he licked it, his eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, like he was imagining it was you instead. the sound of him sighing in satisfaction, mixed with the obscene wet noises from the doll, sent a shiver through your spine.

jay was fully immersed, his body tense and rigid as he buried his face deeper, licking slowly and deliberately, like he was savoring every second of it. his hands gripped jennie tightly, pulling it closer as if he couldn’t get enough, his lips dragging over the silicone with such intensity that it made your stomach twist. fuck, he’s really into this.

you could see it on his face—eyes shut tight like he was lost in some fantasy he couldn’t pull himself out of.

jay groaned again, shifting suddenly as if the pressure inside him had built up too much. with a strangled grunt, he propped himself up on his knees, reaching for something on his nightstand. your breath hitched when you saw the bottle in his hands—lube. fuck, how had you missed that? the bottle wasn’t even labeled, just some clear liquid, but jay handled it with ease, like this was routine. wow, subtle, you thought, biting your lip as you watched.

he squeezed a generous amount into his palm, slicking it over jennie with slow, deliberate movements. his fingers teased the silicone clit, even flicking it as he smothered the doll in lube, his breathing growing heavier. when he slipped his fingers back in, he let out a dreamy sigh, his head tilting back slightly, lost in the sensation.

and then, finally, jay pulled his cock out. your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. god, he was big. thick, meaty, his cock slapping against his lower stomach with a heavy, wet sound. he was neatly groomed, the veins running down his shaft prominent, and the sight of him—so raw, so exposed—made your head spin.

your pulse raced as you watched him stroke himself, his fingers spreading the lube over his cock, making it glisten in the low light of his room. every movement was slow, and fuck, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. the heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body reacting to every single detail, to the way his muscles flexed, the way his breath hitched as he touched himself.

jay lined himself up with jennie, groaning your name under his breath again, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

"y/n," jay moaned, the sound of your name falling from his lips as he hovered over jennie, teasing the head of his cock against the slick, wet folds of the doll. "shit, you want it?" he groaned, his voice low and strained, full of pent-up desire.

your heart pounded in your chest, the heat between your legs unbearable as you watched him, his movements slow, teasing. your fingers trembled as they slid down, almost against your will, slipping under the waistband of your pants.

the sight of him, the way he was moaning your name, the way he was fucking thinking about you—it was driving you insane.

jay bit his lip, his body tense as he pushed just the tip inside, groaning louder as his hips shifted. "fuck, y/n, you’d feel so good around me," he murmured, his words making your breath hitch. your fingers moved instinctively, rubbing against your aching clit as you watched him, your body desperate for release.

you couldn’t stop. you were caught in the heat of the moment, every word he said, every movement of his hips, making your entire body throb with need. his hand gripped the base of his cock as he slowly slid deeper into the doll, the wet sound of it obscene in the quiet room.

your body on fire as you mirrored his movements, your fingers working faster against yourself.

"god, y/n," jay groaned, his hips moved in a slow, almost torturous rhythm, his cock disappearing into the slick silicone, but all he could think about was how you’d feel wrapped around him. his head tipped back, eyes closed, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

"you're so fucking good," jay moaned, his voice ragged as he thrust deeper into jennie, but in his mind, it was you. every movement, every sound, was for you.

your fingers moved faster, desperate now, matching the pace of his thrusts. the way he was groaning your name, the raw need in his voice.

"fuck, y/n," jay groaned, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as he sped up, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. "you’d take me so good, wouldn’t you?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. he was losing himself.

you bit your lip, trying to keep from making a sound as you continued to watch him. his back arched, muscles flexing as he pumped faster, harder, the wet sounds of him fucking jennie filling the room. your name fell from his lips again, a low growl, and it sent a shiver straight through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

you’re so fucking good, his voice echoing in your head.

jay whimpered, his pace growing faster, more desperate, the bed creaking beneath him as his hips snapped forward. you could practically see the head of his cock pushing so deep into the tiny silicone hole that it nearly bulged through the other side. he was literally fucking through the damn thing.

you imagined what it would be like if he were inside you instead. if he could do that to a toy, what would it feel like to have him that deep, to be stretched out around him?

he let out another strangled moan, his hands gripping the doll tighter as he drove himself harder, his entire body trembling.

"y/n- shit, fuck yeah," he groaned, his voice shaking, and the way he said your name made your body ache. if he was inside you, he’d ruin you, fuck you so deep you’d feel him everywhere, fill you up until you couldn’t take anymore. the thought made your thighs clench together, your fingers moving faster as you imagined him pounding into you, that same desperate need in his voice.

"you’d take it, wouldn’t you?" he panted, his breath ragged, his hips slamming against jennie as his cock drove deeper. "like how i'm stretching you out? sunghoon could never fuck you like this."

"you want my cum?" jay groaned, you were drenched, the heat between your legs unbearable as you imagined being in jennie's position, taking every inch of him, his cock stretching you out, filling you up.

your hand shook as you carefully pulled down your cotton shorts and panties, your heart racing with the fear of being caught but too far gone to stop. you leaned back, pressing into his coats to muffle any noise you might make. the soft fabric cushioned your body, but your mind was miles away, completely fixated on jay—his moans, his body, the way he was losing himself.

you were dripping, your fingers sliding through your slickness, the pressure building as you bit down hard on the edge of your shirt, using it to stifle any noise that might slip out. so fucking close, to being caught driving you wild.

through the gaps in the wooden slats, you peeked at him, his muscles straining as he thrust harder. "love my cock?" he panted, his voice thick and desperate, "yeah, i always fill you up so good don't i? tell me you fucking love it."

your body jerked as his words sent shockwaves through you, you could almost feel him inside you.

jay’s hips snapped forward again, his breaths ragged as he neared the edge. he’s close, you thought, biting harder into your shirt, your body shaking as you rode the edge with him, knowing you were about to fall apart just as he was.

"gonna let me cum inside that pussy, huh? you want it?" jay's voice was rough, desperate, the words pushing you over the edge as your fingers thrust in and out of your soaked cunt. your eyes squeezed shut, your body trembling as you lost yourself in the fantasy of him filling you up, his cock stretching you just like he was with jennie.

but then, without thinking, you let out a soft, breathless moan. "please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

shit.

the sound hung in the air, and in an instant, everything stopped. the wet, obscene sounds of jay fucking the doll, his grunts and heavy breathing—all of it came to a sudden halt.

your heart dropped, panic flooding your body as you slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes flying open in shock.

you totally fucked up, your breath caught in your throat as you stayed completely still, frozen in place, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t heard you.

but it was too late. you could hear jay shift, the silence between you deafening. his breathing had changed—quieter, more alert.

"who’s there?" his voice was low, edged with confusion, and you knew he had heard you. you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, your entire body trembling with fear and embarrassment.

you heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling—jay was moving, probably scrambling to put some clothes on. panic seized you, and you dug yourself deeper into the closet, your body pressing against the fabric of his coats in a pathetic attempt to hide. your heart raced, pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it through the door.

then, the closet door creaked open slowly, and your eyes went wide in sheer terror. jay stood there, half-naked, only in his boxers, a fucking bat clutched in one hand. his hair was a mess, his chest still glistening with sweat, but the most absurd part was that his cock was still hard, tenting his boxers like he hadn’t come down from the moment at all.

"who the fuck is in here?" his voice was low, edged with tension as his eyes scanned the closet. he hadn’t spotted you yet, but it was only a matter of time. your entire body trembled, pressed against the back of the closet, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

and then, his eyes landed on you.

jay froze, his expression shifting from confusion to sheer disbelief. "y/n?" his voice cracked slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. the bat lowered, forgotten in his hand as his brain struggled to catch up.

you were caught—there was no way out now.

jay’s eyes locked onto yours, and in that split second, the disbelief on his face morphed into something darker—something between confusion, anger, and sheer disbelief.

“y/n,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. he let the bat drop to the floor with a dull thud, stepping closer to where you were crouched, his broad, still-sweaty chest rising and falling heavily. his body towered over you, cock still rock-hard and tenting his boxers, the tension in the room suffocating.

“what the fuck are you doing in my closet?” his voice was tight, like he was holding back a storm of emotions—rage, shock, but there was something else too. desire. his eyes flickered with it, almost daring you to explain yourself.

you were trembling, mouth dry, scrambling for words but coming up with nothing. fuck, you were pinned in place, completely trapped. his messy hair, the wild look in his eyes, the way his body practically radiated heat—it all made the situation unbearable. you swallowed hard, still pressing yourself further against the coats, like there was anywhere to hide now.

“i… i heard something,” you stammered, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, especially as his gaze dropped to your shorts, which were still tangled around your thighs. the way his eyes darkened when he saw how exposed you were sent a wave of humiliation and arousal crashing over you.

“bullshit.” jay’s voice was thick, his body stepping closer, looming over you. “you were fucking watching me, weren’t you?” his tone was accusatory, but it wasn’t just anger. you could hear the edge of it—the thrill. he was piecing everything together, and as the realization set in, his breathing deepened, his cock twitching in his boxers.

you tried to speak, to deny it, but your voice caught in your throat as he crouched down, his face inches from yours now. “you were hiding in my closet, getting off while I fucked a doll, and now you’re trying to pretend you weren’t?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with something dark and dangerous.

"sorry, i know how this looks," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of the moment crashes down on you. your words hang in the air, fragile and trembling as you watch him, feeling the heat radiating off his body. but it’s not enough—not even close—to stop what’s about to happen.

jay’s gaze darkens, his eyes lowering, and then he sees it—really sees it. your shorts are pulled down mid-thigh, your panties already pushed to the side, leaving nothing to the imagination. the briefest glimpse of your pussy lips catches his eye, and you can see his jaw clench. his face tightens, and for a second, he just stares before rolling his eyes, like the fucked-up situation had just reached another level.

“fuck,” jay mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process what he’s seeing.

“you’re… unbelievable,” he says, voice tight as his eyes roam over your body. it’s not judgmental, not anymore. it’s a mixture of frustration and desire, the kind that’s simmering just under the surface, waiting to explode. “i thought i was fucked up… but this?”

his hand twitches at his side like he’s debating what to do, but you can tell—he’s already made up his mind. the heat between you two is undeniable, and shit, you can feel the way your own body is betraying you, the slickness between your thighs only making this more intense.

“come here,” jay growled, his voice rough, commanding, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. his dick was still straining hard against his boxers, thick and heavy, the outline so obvious it made your breath hitch.

your mind was spinning, trying to make sense of the situation, but nothing clicked. this was jay—the same jay who blushes when he talks to you, who’s always awkward and shy—and now look at him. his eyes were dark, filled with something so raw and intense that it made your stomach churn with a twisted kind of excitement.

you were practically shaking the whole time, and you didn’t know if it was from fear or the undeniable desire coiling tighter and tighter inside of you. you should be running. you should be pulling up your shorts, getting the hell out of here. but you couldn’t. not when his eyes were locked onto you like that.

“what are you waiting for?” jay’s voice was low, dangerous, and fuck, it sent shivers down your spine. his tone, his body language—he was different now, no longer the blushing boy who used to fumble his words around you. this was the real him, the one who’d been hiding beneath that awkward exterior all this time.

you swallowed hard, your legs feeling weak as you stood there—your pussy still slick, the heat pooling deep inside you, pulsing with the same desire you could see in jay’s eyes.

“i’m not asking again,” jay said, his voice tightening, frustration and need clear on his face.

jay walked back to his bed, each step deliberate, slow, like he was giving you time to take in what was happening. he sat down on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked onto yours. his gaze was intense, unwavering, filled with something raw and predatory.

“sit here with me,” he said, his voice low, steady, but there was a challenge in it. the way he was looking at you—it made your pulse race, your legs feel like jelly.

part of you screamed to leave, to stop this before it went too far, but another part of you—the bigger part—wanted nothing more than to follow him, to see where this would lead.

jay’s cock was still straining against his boxers, the outline prominent as he sat there, waiting, daring you to close the space between you. his eyes flicked down to your exposed thighs, taking in how your panties were still pulled to the side, how ready you were, and his lips twitched, almost like he knew what was going through your head.

the way he was looking at you, commanding you without even having to raise his voice—it made your entire body ache. your heart pounded in your chest as you hesitated for a moment, your legs trembling as you took a shaky step forward.

jay didn’t move, just watched you intently, his elbows still resting on his knees, waiting. “closer,” he muttered, his voice even rougher now, his patience running thin.

and without even thinking, you moved. you reached down, hands shaking as you tried to pull your shorts back up, the embarrassment burning your face. your mind screamed, but your body was on autopilot. you were halfway there, about to cover yourself up, when jay’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

you couldn’t even dare to look at him, feeling the weight of embarrassment swallowing you whole, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

jay’s hands hovered over your thighs, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. his breath was deep, ragged, like he was trying to steady himself, trying to believe this was really happening. fuck, it was like he couldn’t even believe you were standing in front of him, shorts halfway down, so vulnerable, so exposed.

“stop. don’t pull them up.”

his words were sharp, commanding, leaving no room for argument. your hands froze, still gripping the waistband of your shorts, your breath catching in your throat. the intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you slowly let go of the fabric, letting your shorts hang awkwardly around your hips.

jay’s gaze was dark, hungry, roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. his eyes lingered on the space between your thighs, the way your panties were still askew, showing more than you ever meant to. he leaned back slightly, his elbows still on his knees, but his entire posture screamed control.

“come here,” he said again, softer this time, but no less demanding

his eyes flickered, tracing every inch of your body, and for a split second, you could see it in his face—the disbelief, the hunger, the way he was completely entranced by you. his fingers twitching as they hovered near your thighs, like he was waiting for permission, like he was afraid to break the moment.

and then his eyes dropped lower, down between your legs. could he smell how wet you were?

the realization hit you hard, making your entire body burn with humiliation and need. you were soaked, dripping with arousal, and it was impossible to hide. his breathing deepened even more, nostrils flaring as his eyes darkened, the tension between you snapping tight like a rubber band about to break.

“fuck,” jay muttered under his breath, his voice low and strained, almost reverent as he took you in. his fingers finally grazed the soft skin of your thigh, so gentle it almost didn’t feel real. “you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured.

jay’s hands moved with purpose now, one of them sliding between your thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you were dripping. his other hand gripped your inner thigh firmly, pushing it to the side, spreading you open to get a better view. fuck, his eyes darkened as he stared, taking in the sight of you exposed for him.

his thumb brushed over the slick fabric of your panties, grazing your swollen lips, and the sensation sent a shockwave through your body. your breath hitched, your legs trembling as you tried to stay steady, but it was impossible with the way he was touching you, the way his gaze devoured every inch of you.

the embarrassment, the intensity of the moment—it was too much, but fuck, you wanted more.

"care to tell me why you were spying on me?" jay muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his thumb grazed your slick skin. the sensation made you tremble, your legs barely holding you steady. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he stared up at you, his eyes dark with amusement and lust.

"i'm dying to know," he added, his voice low, teasing, as his thumb pressed harder, sliding against your swollen clit.

you couldn’t speak, your mind spinning from the intensity of his touch, from the weight of his question. you knew he could see exactly how much you wanted this—even though you shouldn’t.

"i… i'm sorry…" you stammered as jay’s thumb circled your clit again, sending shockwaves through you, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

he smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, how much control he had over you in this moment. "come on," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "you can do better than that, can’t you? tell me why you were spying on me."

your breath hitched, your mind spinning, but all you could feel was his hand between your thighs, the slick heat pooling there, and the way he was pushing you to the edge.

"i said i’m sorry," you whispered, your voice shaky, barely able to get the words out as jay’s thumb pressed harder on your clit.

jay’s smirk widened, his fingers still working you over, teasing you relentlessly. "sorry doesn’t explain why you were spying on me," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his other hand gripped your thigh tighter, keeping you in place. "but I guess I don’t mind the answer as long as you keep squirming like this."

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, eyes flickering with something darker. "go on, tell me more. unless you’d rather just show me how sorry you are."

"fuck, jay, wait," you gasped, trying to shove his arms away, panic and pleasure swirling together as your hands pushed against him. but jay was stronger, his grip firm and unyielding as he fought against your weak attempts to stop him. his fingers dug into your thigh, pulling you closer, nearly making you stumble, but before you could find your footing, he locked your thighs in his arms, trapping you in place.

your heart raced, and you barely managed to steady yourself by planting one foot on the edge of his bed. the shift in position sent a jolt of heat through your body, his face dangerously close to where you were slick and exposed.

"you’re not going anywhere," jay muttered, voice low and dark, his breath hot against your inner thigh as he held you there, his grip relentless.

"i'm waiting," jay growled, his voice low and dripping with impatience as his fingers gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer. "tell me, why were you spying on me?"

"did you like it?" jay asked, his voice rough with desire as he leaned closer, his grip on your thighs tightening. "how I fucked jennie?"

the question hit you like a shockwave, your breath catching in your throat. you couldn’t answer, couldn’t even look at him.

he smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you, the way you were unable to form words. "yeah," he muttered, his voice dark and taunting. "i think you did. the way you were watching, hiding in my closet, getting yourself off. you liked it, didn’t you?"

your body responded even as your mind screamed for control, the heat between your legs pulsing harder with each word he said.

"wow, aren’t you confident," you managed to say, but your voice shook, the words were meant to sound teasing, defiant, but they came out weak, unconvincing as you tried to regain some control over the situation.

jay’s smirk only deepened at your pathetic attempt to push back. his eyes were locked on you, dark and full of desire. "oh, come on," he muttered, voice low and mocking as his hands traced your trembling thighs. "don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy every fucking second."

his fingers slid dangerously close to where you were slick and exposed, making your breath hitch. "i can feel how much you liked it," he continued, voice rougher now. "you’re soaking, and all because you watched me fuck a toy, imagining it was you."

"but it was me," you weakly bite back, the words barely leaving your lips as your body trembled under his touch.

jay's fingers, which had been teasing your pussy, suddenly stilled. he pulled them back slowly, staring at you with disbelief, his jaw clenched tight. "you are so fucking unbelievable," he growled, voice low and thick with frustration.

then, without warning, he thrust a finger into you roughly, but the slickness of your folds made it glide in smoothly, the feeling almost too good. you let out a shaky breath, your body arching toward him involuntarily.

"first," he hissed, his voice full of raw intensity, "you make me fucking admit that I jack myself off with a sex doll, just for you. the person I've been wanting for years now, making me feel like a fucking loser. embarrassed. fucking ashamed. like I'm some kind of pervert."

his finger flicked deeper inside you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core, and you gasped, biting your lip hard to keep from crying out.

"and then you," he continued, his words dripping with disbelief and lust, "you end up in my closet, watching me. are you a fucking perv, too?"

yes, you thought, the word echoing in your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud.

jay’s eyes bore into you, his finger still buried deep inside you, but he wasn’t moving, just staring, his voice low and dangerous as he asked, “are you here to embarrass me? is that it? is that why you were spying on me—to make fun of me?”

his words cut deep, and you could feel the weight of his frustration, the vulnerability he’d just exposed to you twisted into something dark. he thought you were here to humiliate him? but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. you didn’t know how to explain that this wasn’t about making fun of him—it was about something far more fucked up.

“because you know about my stupid crush on you, right?” jay’s voice was dripping with frustration, his finger still inside you, but unmoving. “is this your way of getting back at me? laughing at how pathetic i am? you think it's funny?”

his words stung, his tone laced with anger and vulnerability, he thought you were here to humiliate him, to make fun of the fact that he had been harboring a crush on you for years. that all of this—his shame, his embarrassment—was something you found amusing. fuck, you could see it in his eyes, how much this hurt him, how much he thought you were here to tear him apart.

"jay, no," you finally whispered, your voice shaky, barely audible. "i didn’t come here to make fun of you." your breath was catching in your throat, the shame in his voice cutting through you, making your heart ache. "it’s not like that… i—"

but before you could finish, his finger twitched inside you, rougher this time, and you gasped, your body betraying you once again, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "then what the fuck is it, huh?" his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a mix of anger and lust, his eyes narrowing. "you wanna tell me what the fuck this is, if it’s not to humiliate me?" "i got curious," you hiccuped, your voice shaky, barely holding together under the weight of the moment. "i… never thought it was funny… i thought it was hot."

"i wanted to know what jennie looked like… what you were into… i… shit—" you struggled to get the words out, your breath catching as jay's fingers twitched inside you again, this time with more intent.

your voice trembled, barely holding it together as you tried to explain. "i wanted to know what turned you on." the words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and honest, cutting through the tension like a blade. your heart pounded in your chest as jay froze, his eyes widening just slightly, disbelief flickering across his face.

"what?" he growled, his voice low, rough, the anger starting to shift into something else entirely. his finger inside you twitched, but this time it wasn’t out of frustration—it was from the shock of your confession.

"i thought it was fucking hot," you whispered again, your voice barely more than a breath, the shame still heavy but mixed with the undeniable arousal coursing through you. "watching you… thinking about how badly you wanted me. fuck, jay… i wanted it, too."

"i'm just a loser, aren't i?" jay’s voice was rough, his breath heavy as his fingers curled inside you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. "why would you…?" he trailed off, his voice breaking slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying, or what was happening between the two of you.

"the way you ignored me for years," jay muttered, his voice strained with a mix of frustration and something deeper, rawer. "i liked you so much, y/n. fuck. you made me so fucking nervous." his fingers stilled inside you for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, full of emotions he had clearly been holding back for too long.

you shook your head, barely able to keep your thoughts straight as his thumb rubbed your clit, pushing you further toward the edge. "you’re not a loser," you whispered, your voice shaky, trying to hold on to whatever control you had left. "fuck, jay, I never thought that."

"do you promise you're not just here because you wanted to see how pathetic I am?" jay's voice cracked slightly, and when you looked at him, you saw his eyes were glassy, tears he was trying so hard to hold back. the sight of him like that—so vulnerable, so raw—made your chest tighten.

you frowned, shaking your head, your heart breaking at the thought that he believed that. "jay, no… it’s not like that," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "i swear. i’m not here to make you feel like shit. i’m not here to laugh at you."

his fingers loosened their grip on your thigh, his expression faltering as he struggled to process your words. you could see the pain etched across his face, years of doubt and self-loathing surfacing in that one question.

his hands loosened their grip on your thigh, and you moved to sit beside him on the bed, the tension between you still thick but shifting into something deeper, more vulnerable.

jay’s eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to tell him that this wasn’t some twisted game. you could see the uncertainty etched across his face, the way he was still bracing himself for the worst.

"jay," you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. the moment your fingers touched his skin, he shuddered, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, like he couldn’t believe this was real. his breath hitched, and when he opened his eyes again, they were filled with something raw—years of pent-up emotion, the pain of thinking he’d never have you.

jay’s expression twisted, like he was struggling to absorb everything, your touch, your voice. his lip trembled slightly, and he looked at you like he still couldn’t trust that you were really here with him. "why now?" he whispered, voice barely audible, like he was afraid of the answer.

you leaned in closer, your forehead resting gently against his. "because i didn’t know how much you meant to me until now," you admitted, your voice soft, but full of the truth. "and fuck, jay… i didn’t realize how much i wanted this."

"sure, you’re kind of awkward," you say with a soft smile, your thumb still brushing against his cheek. "but i’ve been seeing you, jay. i don’t think you ever realized."

he blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise, the vulnerability still there in his eyes, but now mixed with something else—hope.

"i’ve even been talking to hanna about hooking up with you," you admitted with a nervous laugh, watching his reaction carefully. "crazy, right?"

jay’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "you… what?" he stammered, his voice cracking with disbelief. his breath hitched, and he blinked rapidly, clearly processing what you’d just confessed. "yeah," you laughed softly, the sincerity in your voice making him listen even more closely. "like, it started out as a light joke between hanna and me, but then I realized I was genuinely interested in you. you were so cute, jay. always blushing, stuttering around me." you paused, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you both. his eyes never left yours, the intensity in them raw and real.

"but before i could actually act on it," you continued, your voice softer now, "you started seeing that girl. and if i wasn’t sure about what i wanted before, fuck, i knew the second i got jealous."

jay blinked, processing your words, his face a mix of disbelief, "no way," he muttered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"yeah," you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “although i did start to doubt your feelings for me when you got your cherry popped, i’ve known for a while. it was hard to admit to myself, though. i thought you’d finally moved on because… well, i wasn’t giving you any time of day.”

jay blinked, taking in your words, his expression shifting as you continued. “but i knew, jay. you weren’t exactly subtle,” you teased gently, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. "i thought i was being so careful. i was so sure i was hiding it," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. "but i guess i was just making it worse."

"yeah," you chuckled softly. "but in a way, that’s what made you so… you. it’s why i started to notice you more. because underneath all the awkwardness, there was something real. and now, here we are."

"then when i found out that you have a jennie," you whispered, your voice barely audible, remembering the rush of that moment. "i… couldn’t stop thinking about it." the memory played in your mind—the way your pulse raced when you stood outside his door, the thoughts that swirled in your head.

jay's eyes widened, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief flashing across his face. "shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky, "that's so fucking hot."

the confession hung heavy between you, the air thick with tension, but there was no mistaking the desire in his gaze. his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out, to close the space between you, but he held back for a second, just staring at you, processing everything.

“i never thought you’d… even think about that,” he said, his voice rough with disbelief. “fuck, i thought i’d scared you off for good when you found out.”

"well, you didn't," you whispered, shaking your head, your voice soft but firm. the intensity of the moment hung heavy between you, the tension thick and electric.

you leaned in slightly, your hand still resting on his cheek, your thumb gently brushing his skin. "i wasn't scared off… if anything, it made me want you more."

jay’s breath hitched at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt, but all he found was sincerity. his hands twitched, and he finally let himself close the gap between you, his lips dangerously close to yours, as if waiting for permission.

"shit," jay whispers, his voice trembling as he leans in even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. his eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth, "can i kiss you?"

his words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the world outside, the uncertainty, the confusion—all that’s left is the two of you, and the undeniable pull between you.

your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest as you nod, barely able to speak. "yeah," you whisper back, your voice shaky but sure. "kiss me, jay."

without another word, jay closes the distance, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that’s been building for years. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, the electricity between you both sparking into something intense, something raw.

and just like that, everything went flying out the window. your movements became frantic, desperate, as jay pulled you in closer, his arms caging you beneath him as you lay back on his bed. the kiss deepened, his lips pressing harder against yours, all the built-up tension between you both unraveling in a chaotic rush of need.

jay hovered above you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him. “fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his voice raw and full of emotion, his chest rising and falling rapidly. his hands slid down your sides, gripping your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his muscles tense as he pressed against you, his breath coming out in harsh, shallow gasps. every inch of him was hungry, desperate, and fuck, you were right there with him.

“can't believe i'm not dreaming right now,” jay muttered, his voice low and strained as his lips found their way to your neck, trailing rough kisses along your skin. "you don’t even know." jay’s hands moved with a newfound urgency, hastily tugging down both your shorts and panties in one swift motion. the cool air hit your wet pussy, making you shiver, your body trembling beneath him. his grip was firm, his breathing ragged as he stared down at you, eyes dark with lust.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough as his hands roamed over your now-exposed skin, fingers brushing against your thighs, inching closer to where you were soaked. he seemed almost in disbelief, like he was finally touching what he had been dreaming about for so long.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” jay muttered, his voice low, the words barely audible as his hands found their way to your core, his fingers teasing your folds. you gasped, your hips jerking at the sudden contact, the heat between you two unbearable now.

his eyes locked onto yours as he let his fingers slide through your slickness, groaning softly at how wet you were for him. “you’re soaked,” he rasped, his voice full of desire. "shit, y/n, you’re driving me insane."

"i've imagined this so many fucking times," jay groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he ground helplessly against you, his hard cock pressing against your slick heat. his hands scrambled to touch whatever he could reach—your waist, your thighs, your breasts—gripping, groping, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

his breath was ragged, each grind of his hips sending jolts of pleasure through your body, making your own need surge. "you feel and smell so good," he muttered, his voice hoarse as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.

you could feel him trembling against you, his body shaking with the intensity of the moment, his lips found your skin, kissing and biting your neck, his breath hot and desperate. "i’ve wanted you for so fucking long," he murmured between ragged kisses, his voice breaking slightly as he rocked his hips harder into you. "fuck, y/n, you have no idea."

jay’s hands fumbled to lift your shirt, his movements frantic as you shot your arms up to help him take it off. the second your breasts were exposed, his eyes widened, and a low moan escaped his lips. "oh shit, look at those tits," he groaned, his voice thick with lust.

without wasting a second, he dove in, his mouth hot and eager as he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, making you gasp, your back arching as pleasure shot through you. his hands gripped your breasts, kneading them roughly as he sucked and bit at your skin, completely lost in the moment.

"fuck," he muttered against your skin, his breath ragged as he moved to your other nipple, his mouth devouring you like he had been starving for this. "so fucking perfect." his hands squeezed your tits, his lips pulling and sucking in a way that made your head spin, each movement sending heat pooling between your legs.

he groaned deeply, clearly overwhelmed by the feel and taste of you, his hips still grinding against you helplessly, his cock pressing harder into your wet core. "you make me so horny," he rasped between sucks, his voice hoarse as he continued to devour you.

"i could do this forever," jay growled, his voice dripping with desperation as he grew more frantic, but still kept himself in control. his mouth moved from your breasts, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from the valley between them, his tongue hot and wet against your skin. he trailed down your body, each lick sending sparks of pleasure through you, his touch lighting your nerves on fire.

you gasped as his mouth finally reached your pussy, his breath hot against your slick folds. he paused for a moment, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked up at you, before licking a painfully slow, sensual stripe up your clit. your back arched, and you moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

jay’s eyes rolled back as he savored your taste, his tongue swirling over your clit again, this time with more intent. "fuck," he groaned against your pussy, his voice muffled as he lapped at your juices, clearly lost in the sensation. he was in heaven, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, drawing out every moan, every gasp from you.

he gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his mouth devoured you, licking and sucking with a desperate hunger. "you taste like fucking heaven," he mumbled, his voice hoarse as he flicked his tongue over your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

with precision, jay slipped his fingers into you, groaning as he felt how hot and wet your pussy was, his fingers sinking into your slick heat with ease. shit, he thought, shuddering at the sensation, his breath catching in his throat. this was so much better than that fucking sex doll.

“you feel amazing, so wet,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe as his fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot.

the way your pussy clenched around his fingers, the heat, the wetness—him lose control as his mouth continued its assault on your clit, his tongue moving in time with his fingers. jennie was nothing compared to this. you were alive, warm, pulsating around him, and it was driving him fucking insane.

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, flicking his tongue against you while his fingers pumped harder, curling deep inside. “clenching around my fingers.”

every time you moaned or gasped, jay responded—sucking harder on your clit, his fingers curling deeper inside you, matching your rhythm, like he was feeding off your pleasure. he was relentless.

"fuck, jay," you whimpered, gripping his hair tighter, pulling him closer, needing more. every flick of his tongue, every deep thrust of his fingers, was driving you closer to your breaking point, and he knew it.

“cum in my mouth, please,” jay groaned, his voice thick with desperation as he looked up at you, his lips brushing against your clit. “can you squirt? i-i even practiced how to do it, please tell me you can… i need it.”

his words sent a shockwave through you, the way he begged, the hunger in his voice, his fingers stroking that perfect spot with precision. you could barely breathe, every nerve alight with pleasure. the

“please,” jay begged again, his voice ragged, his fingers working faster now, his mouth hot against you. “i want to feel you cum, i want to taste you, fuck, give it to me.”

his desperation sent you spiraling, and so you do—your entire body tensing as the pressure inside you finally snaps. with a loud moan, you explode, spraying all over jay’s face, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the release hits you hard.

jay’s eyes widened in awe for a brief second before he dove in, his tongue out, eagerly lapping at your juices as you squirted all over him. his face was soaked, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in you, slurping at your pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“mmh, yes,” he groaned between licks, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm. your thighs trembled, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure, your body jerking with every flick of his tongue.

jay was relentless, his mouth and fingers working you over, milking every drop from you as he greedily devoured your release. "you’re really fucking perfect," he muttered, his face still buried between your legs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

jay didn’t waste a second, moving up swiftly and caging you beneath his arms, his body hovering over yours as he lined his cock up with your entrance. he teased the tip against your slick folds, the heat of his length rubbing against you, and a deep groan escaped his throat. "fuckkk," he hissed, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the moment.

"shit," he muttered, his voice full of awe and lust, "and i was just imagining this." his cock pressed teasingly at your entrance, the head slipping inside ever so slightly before pulling back again, torturing both of you with the anticipation.

you could feel the weight of him, the heat, and fuck, the way he was trembling with the need to finally take you. his breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back, but it was clear he was losing control. "can't wait to fuck you, oh," he groaned, pushing in a little deeper, the stretch sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. "ask me," you whisper, your voice barely audible, thick with need as you looked up at him. your body trembled beneath him, every inch of you aching for more, but you wanted to hear it—wanted him to say it.

jay’s eyes snapped open, dark and filled with lust, his breath catching in his throat. he stared down at you, his cock pressing dangerously close to pushing all the way in, but he paused, clearly thrown off by your words.

“ask you?” he muttered, his voice husky, his hips twitching slightly, betraying his restraint.

"yeah," you breathed, your hands sliding up his back, nails digging into his skin lightly as you pulled him closer. "ask me like how you fucked jennie earlier."

his entire body tensed at your words, a deep shudder running through him. his eyes darkened, his breath ragged as he processed what you’d just said.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. "you really want me to?" his hips twitched, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, and he could barely hold himself back now.

"shit," he whispered, his voice raw and pleading, swallowing thickly before mirroring his words.

"you want it?" his eyes locked with yours, burning with desire as he fought to maintain control, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"hmmm," you moaned, your hips moving back to meet his, teasing him as your wet entrance brushed against the tip of his cock. "yes, i want it, jay…" you whimpered, your voice shaky and filled with need.

his entire body tensed at your words, a deep shudder running through him. his eyes darkened, his breath ragged as he processed what you’d just said. "fuck," he groaned, the desperation clear in his voice. he dipped his head, his lips grazing your ear as his body pressed harder against you, his cock twitching at your entrance.

"shit, you’re gonna fucking kill me," he muttered, his voice barely holding together as he lined himself up, teasing your entrance.

and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, groaning as he felt your tightness wrap around him. "fuck, i'm actually inside you," jay grunted, his voice rough and strained as he pushed deeper, his eyes falling half-closed as he stared down at you, blissed out by the feeling of your tightness around him. your body arched beneath him, your eyes glued to the sight of him sinking into you, stretching you perfectly.

he caught you watching, and the realization made his head spin. "fuck, really watching me fuck you, huh? you like that?" he groaned, his voice low and dripping with lust.

his hips rocked slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you, and the way you were staring at him, so fixated, made his control start to slip. "you like seeing me fuck you like this?" he muttered, his breath shaky, his movements becoming more desperate as he lost himself in the heat of you.

"shit, you even got off to me fucking a doll," jay growled, his voice rough as he started fucking into you mercilessly, the force of his thrusts pushing you deeper into the bed.

his lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as the intensity of the moment overtook you both. your mouths moved in a messy, desperate kiss, both of you panting and gasping for air between each frantic movement.

"you fucking wanted it too, didn’t you?" he grunted against your lips, his hips slamming into you harder, his pace relentless. "did you get jealous, huh?"

"yes." you whine, his words made you whimper into the kiss, your body trembling beneath him, your fingers dug into his back, gripping him tightly, pulling him closer as you moaned into his mouth.

your answer seemed to hit him like a tidal wave, flooding jay with emotion. he groaned deeply, his body trembling as he collapsed on top of you, his chest pressing against yours. the weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, made everything feel even more intense.

"oh god," jay whispered against your neck, his breath hot and ragged as his lips brushed your skin. "you don’t know how much i’ve wanted this. how much i’ve wanted you."

his voice cracked slightly, and you could feel the vulnerability in him, the weight of everything he had been holding back finally surfacing. he kissed your neck, soft and trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, keeping you close.

"i thought i’d never have you," he whispered again, but the depth of his feelings clear in every word. planting tender, almost reverent kisses along your skin as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, connected to you but now laced with something far more intimate than just desire.

you could feel his heartbeat against your chest, fast and erratic, mirroring your own. the intensity of his emotions poured into every kiss, every breath he took, as though he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

"i'm so fucking happy," jay whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear, his voice thick with vulnerability. "can't believe i'm fucking you. i don’t know what i’d do if this wasn’t real."

your hands slid up his back, fingers gently tracing the lines of his muscles as you pulled him even closer, grounding him, letting him know you were here with him, that this was real.

"i’m not going anywhere, jay," you whispered back, your voice soft but full of reassurance. "this is real. i want you, too."

jay shuddered at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. "fuck," he muttered, his voice cracking as he let himself fully lean into the moment.

jay growled low in his throat, gripping your thigh and throwing it over his shoulder in one swift motion. the new angle made his thrusts even deeper, each one hitting you so perfectly that the breath was knocked right out of you. he straddled your other thigh, his movements becoming more aggressive as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of you at a pace that left you gasping for air.

"jay," you yelped, your body jolting with every powerful thrust. jay’s hands were relentless, one hand gripping your waist tightly as he straightened up, towering over you, the other squeezing your breast harshly, kneading your flesh with an almost brutal intensity. his fingers dug into your skin, sending a mix of pain and pleasure through your body as he groaned, lost in the sensation of fucking you so deep.

he leaned over slightly, his hand pressing down hard on your stomach. the pressure made you feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you so fully it made your head spin. "holy shit," you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, your walls tightening around him as his thrusts became more brutal, more desperate.

"fuck, i love your pussy, y/n," jay panted, his voice rough and breathless as he slammed into you over and over, his cock driving into you so deep it felt like he was tearing you apart.

"looks like you don't even need jennie anymore, huh?" you teased, your voice shaky between gasps as jay continued to pound into you, the intensity overwhelming every sense.

jay groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he thrust deeper, his grip on your waist tightening. "hell," he breathed, his voice thick with desire and desperation. "i don't think i'd ever wanna use her again."

his thrusts became even more intense, driven by the raw need coursing through him, as if he was trying to prove just how much better you felt, how real this was compared to anything else. "oh god, y/n," he muttered, his hips snapping into you, "i don't think i can get enough of this."

"gonna use this pussy instead," jay growled, each word sent a shiver down your spine.

you gasped, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure built, overwhelming your senses. "fuck, jay," you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms as he pounded into you.

"yeah, you like that?" he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down, his chest pressing against yours. "this pussy's mine now."

as jay leaned forward, each movement pushed against your walls, making you grunt and mewl with every inch he buried inside you. his hand reached for yours, fingers tangling through yours as he pinned your wrists above your head, his grip firm but not painful, just enough to hold you in place.

"oh shit baby," he groaned, his voice low and filled with awe as his cock sank even deeper, hitting every spot inside you that made your body tremble. "i can feel your walls squeezing me, shit, i'm so deep." his words were ragged, each one punctuated by the sound of your bodies colliding.

"you like that?" he muttered breathlessly, his lips brushing against your ear as his thrusts became more urgent, your body responding to every move. "feels good, doesn’t it? fuck, look at that face," he panted, his eyes glued to your expression, clearly lost in the pleasure on your face.

jay crashed his lips onto yours again, moaning into your mouth between desperate, ragged breaths. his hands cradled your face, fingers trembling slightly as he held you with a kind of need that felt primal.

his hips anchored with one deep, deliberate stroke, burying himself inside you completely. he didn’t move, just held you there, his cock pressed impossibly deep, stretching you to your limit. the sensation was overwhelming, and it ripped a loud, unrestrained cry from your throat.

"too deep!" you yelled, your back arching off the bed, your body trembling from the intensity of it. jay groaned deeply, his forehead pressed against yours as he savored the way you felt around him, every inch of him buried inside you, the pressure making both of you shudder.

he gasped, slowing down his thrusts, jay's lips found their way to your neck, his movements becoming more cautious, more deliberate as his breath fanned against your skin.

he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering there for a moment before whispering, “can i leave a hickey?”

his voice was low, almost hesitant, despite the intensity of the moment. his hips slowed to a deep, grinding rhythm, the sensation still overwhelming but more controlled now, as he waited for your answer, his lips barely brushing your skin.

"of course," you giggled, giving him the go-ahead. jay’s lips latched onto your neck, but the more he sucked, the more impatient he grew. before you could react, he flipped you over with a sudden motion, making you yelp in surprise.

now straddling him, his cock still hard and pulsing, you gasped as he hit a new angle inside you, deeper and different.

he sat up quickly, pulling you against his chest, one hand gripping your waist, the other cupping your breast as his mouth found your nipple. his lips sucked on your skin, leaving more marks, his breath hot and ragged as he groaned against your flesh, leaving a trail of bruises down your chest.

"fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he held you tight against him. "i can’t get enough of you."

you pushed him down, feeling a surge of confidence you hadn’t felt before. god, you’d never been fucked like this—so raw, so passionate. every thrust, every moan, you could feel his emotions pouring into you. it was more than just physical; his love. the way his eyes locked onto yours, the desperation and desire in his touch—it all made your heart race.

you couldn’t help but wonder, would this fade? the thought of this connection, this intense heat between you fizzling out made your chest tighten. no, you couldn’t let that happen. you didn’t want it to end.

you rocked your hips, moving against him, feeling him so deep inside you. the look on jay’s face—the way he was staring up at you, completely captivated—made you feel powerful, wanted, needed. and fuck, you wanted him too, not just now but again and again. flashes of this moment replayed in your mind, the idea of having him like this over and over, coming back for more.

"i want you, jay," you whispered breathlessly, your voice full of need, your hands pressing into his chest as you leaned over him, "i want you to keep coming back for me."

"you think i'm gonna stop now?" jay growled, his voice dripping with intensity as his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you down onto him harder. "fuck no."

he bucked his hips up, meeting your movements with deeper, harder thrusts, the connection electric, and it felt like nothing could pull you apart now.

"you’re mine," he muttered, his voice rough and breathless as he stared up at you, watching the way your body moved above him, completely captivated by the sight of you. "and I’m not fucking going anywhere."

"shit, you can come here whenever you want," jay groaned, his voice ragged as he thrust up into you, his grip on your hips tightening as if he never wanted to let go. "i'll even fucking bail on heeseung—fuck, i don't care."

his words made your head spin, the desperation in his voice clear as he lost himself in the moment. his eyes were locked on yours, filled with nothing but pure need. "you're all i fucking want, y/n," he growled, thrusting harder, the intensity of his movements matching the emotion behind his words.

"even if," jay struggled to get the words out, his breath hitching as his hips snapped into you with more urgency, "you just want to come here for sex—I don't care." his voice was shaky, his balls tightening as he felt his climax approaching, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking, couldn't stop the flood of emotion that came with every thrust.

"let me have this again," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling as he held onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. even in this moment, as he was fucking you senseless, he still had that sweet, vulnerable look in his eyes. god, jay, he was still so fucking cute even when he was wrecking you, making your mind go blank with every stroke. you straightened up, taking full control as you moved on top of him, your hands pressing against his chest as you slid up and down his cock. jay’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with pure pleasure as he watched you ride him, his body completely at your mercy. the way you moved—slow and deliberate, then faster, made him lose all control, his head falling back against the bed, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips.

"you’re riding me?" he asked in pleasured disbelief, his hands gripping your hips tighter, trying to ground himself.

his body shook beneath you, overwhelmed, and you could see it in his face—the way he was trying so hard to hold on, but it was all too much. "shit, y/n," he gasped, his voice cracking as he nearly sobbed from the pleasure.

"fuck, you're gonna make me cum—" jay's voice cracked, laced with panic as he felt his climax rushing toward him, the tension in his body building uncontrollably. his grip on your hips tightened, like he was scared to let go, scared of what was about to happen. he tried to pull back, but you didn’t stop, moving even faster, grinding down harder onto his cock.

"it's okay," you panted, your voice breathless but full of determination, "i'm on the pill. cum inside me."

his eyes snapped open, his entire body trembling as he stared up at you in disbelief, completely overwhelmed. "fuck," he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips bucked up into you, chasing the release he could no longer hold back.

"oh, god no- shit, i'm gonna—" jay babbled, his voice high-pitched and shaky, barely holding himself together as the pressure built inside him.

"shit, stop, i—fuck, i can't believe—" his words trailed off into desperate whines, his hips bucking up uncontrollably into you, his eyes squeezing shut as he started to lose it.

he tried to fight it, his head thrashing against the pillow as his hips stuttered beneath you, but there was no stopping it. "i can't—fuck, i'm cumming, i'm fucking cumming," he whined, his voice cracking as he emptied himself inside you, disbelief and pleasure making him reel. his body jerked uncontrollably, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, as he babbled incoherently, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation.

you followed suit, your body trembling as the intense pleasure hit you all at once. your orgasm washed over you in powerful waves, and before you knew it, you were squirting all over his cock. jay’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he watched in awe, his still-hard cock twitching inside you.

"what the fuck," he hissed, his voice shaking with disbelief, "you're squirting all over me, y/n. shit, that’s so fucking hot."

his hands gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he rocked up into you again, unable to stop himself. the sight of you cumming like that had him completely undone, his head falling back with a groan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"fuck, you're incredible," he moaned, still feeling the heat of your release soaking him. both of you lay there panting, the weight of everything that had just happened sinking in. jay’s body was still trembling beneath yours, his hands resting on your hips, holding you gently now, completely different from the roughness moments before.

he was the first to break the silence, his breath shaky as he spoke, still flustered. "so, um… was it just the dick? or… did you like me back, too?" his voice was awkward, almost nervous, as he tried to act casual about it, but his eyes gave him away.

he was staring at you, waiting for an answer, unsure of himself despite everything that had just happened.

you chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "jay, seriously?" you teased, running your fingers lightly across his chest. "if I just wanted your dick, I wouldn’t have let you stay inside me like that."

he blinked, processing your words, clearly surprised. "wait… so you actually like me? like, like me like me?" his voice cracked slightly, his face flushing red as if he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. it was almost adorable how shy he still was, even after everything.

"yeah," you nodded, smirking at him. "i want something more. it’s not just about the sex, jay. though…" you bit your lip playfully, making him blush even harder, "that was pretty damn amazing, too."

jay’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest, and for a moment he looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a shy, awkward laugh. "holy shit, I didn’t think… I mean, I never thought you’d like me like that."

"why wouldn’t I?" you asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead softly, making him melt under your touch. "you’re sweet, you're cute, and you just rocked my fucking world."

jay’s face turned beet red, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "can I, um… kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was still too shy to believe you’d say yes. his eyes were full of vulnerability, like he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that this was real.

you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorably awkward he was, despite everything. "you don’t have to ask, jay," you teased, leaning down to kiss him gently, feeling his hands hesitantly slide up to cup your face.

he kissed you back, this time slower, sweeter, as if savoring every second of it. when you pulled away, his face was still flushed, his lips parted as he stared at you like you were the most unbelievable thing in the world. "I seriously can’t believe this is happening," he muttered, shaking his head slightly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"so… you're my girlfriend now? or is there, like, a process?" jay asked, his voice soft but filled with nervousness, his eyes darting around like he was unsure of the right way to approach it. his awkwardness was endearing, especially after everything that had just happened between you two.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and playful as you sat up slightly, still straddling him. "a process?" you teased, your lips curving into a grin. "jay, I think after everything we just did, we're skipping the process."

his face flushed bright red again, but a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "right… yeah, that makes sense." he looked away for a second, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "so, uh, I guess we’re… official?"

"i guess we are," you smirked, leaning down to kiss him softly. "unless you want to fill out some forms or something."

jay chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips as he looked up at you with that sweet, almost boyish grin. "nah, I think I can live without the paperwork. but, just to be clear…" he hesitated for a moment, his voice dropping to a more vulnerable tone. "you really want this? like, not just curious about… you know?"

you rolled your eyes playfully and gave him a gentle smack on the chest.

his grin widened, still a bit shy but filled with excitement. "can I kiss you whenever I want now? or do I have to ask every time?" he joked, though you could tell he was still a bit hesitant, not quite believing that this was real.

"you better," you teased, pressing your lips to his again, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he kissed you back, his awkwardness slowly fading into pure happiness.

as you both lay there, the warmth between you growing into something comfortable and real, jay’s eyes drifted lazily around the room.

and then he froze. in the far corner, barely peeking out from under a pile of clothes, was jennie, his infamous sex doll, the one he’d relied on for so long.

"shit," he muttered, his voice soft but filled with disbelief, "jennie." he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at you, clearly embarrassed. "i guess I won't be needing her anymore, huh?"

you smirked, following his gaze toward the doll and giving him a teasing look. "yeah, probably not."

jay flushed, the reality of the situation hitting him again. jennie had been his secret for so long, something he never thought would be exposed, especially not to you. but then he turned back to you, his expression shifting from embarrassment to something more playful, his voice softening as a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "but I never thought you’d be such a pervert, y/n."

you raised an eyebrow, giving him a knowing smile. "oh yeah?"

"yeah," he chuckled, still shaking his head in disbelief. "watching me like that… hiding in the closet. fuck, I couldn’t believe it. i mean, it was so hot—but still." he paused, biting his lip before continuing, "you’re a perv."

you laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "you’re one to talk. you’re the one with a sex doll."

jay groaned, his face reddening. "yeah, well, i had my reasons," he muttered, still unable to meet your eyes completely. "but fuck, y/n, the fact you were watching me… that’s something I’ll never forget."

"and you liked it," you teased, running your fingers lightly across his chest.

"hell yeah, i did," he grinned, pulling you closer, his hands sliding up your back.

"you okay with a loser like me?" jay asked, his voice soft, a hint of insecurity still lingering despite everything. his eyes searched yours, like he was waiting for reassurance, still not fully believing you were here, choosing him.

you smiled warmly, running your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "jay, you’re not a loser," you said, your tone firm but gentle.

he blinked, his lips parting slightly as he took in your words, his cheeks flushing red again. "i just… fuck, i never thought you’d actually want me, y/n. i’ve liked you for so long and thought i didn’t stand a chance."

"well, you thought wrong," you teased, leaning down to kiss him softly.

just as jay was about to respond, the door flew open with a loud bang, and in stormed hanna, her eyes wide with shock and a mix of disbelief.

“what the actual fuck?!” she yelled, freezing as she took in the scene—both of you tangled up in bed, clothes scattered everywhere. “oh my god, no fucking way!”

jay nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling to pull the blanket up, his face flushing a deep red as he stammered, “h-hanna! it’s not—it’s not what it looks like!” but the look of pure embarrassment on his face made it clear it was exactly what it looked like.

you couldn't help but laugh, though you were equally mortified. “uh, hey, hanna,” you said sheepishly, trying to pull the blanket over yourself as well.

“are you serious right now?” hanna stared, her hands on her hips. “you two… really?!”

“okay, okay, calm down,” you said, sitting up, still laughing a little. “it just… happened.”

“just happened?!” hanna shrieked, her eyes darting between you and jay. “i leave for five minutes, and now you’re… this?” you roll your eyes, "you were gone for an hour."

jay looked like he wanted to disappear, his face a permanent shade of red as he mumbled, “yeah… it kinda just… happened.”

hanna groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “oh my god, you guys are ridiculous. well, at least now i don’t have to listen to you both pine after each other anymore.”

you and jay exchanged a look, both of you clearly embarrassed but unable to hold back the smiles creeping onto your faces.

“wait,” hanna said, suddenly pointing at jay, “so this means i win the bet, right?”

jay groaned, burying his face in his hands. “oh, come on, hanna!”

"what bet?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in confusion, glancing between hanna and jay, who now looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

hanna grinned, clearly enjoying jay’s embarrassment. “oh, didn’t jay tell you? we made a little bet a while ago. i told him you liked him, but he was too much of a chicken to believe me.”

jay groaned again, his face buried in his hands. “hanna, please,” he muttered, clearly mortified.

“so,” hanna continued, ignoring his protests, “i bet him that if he ever got his act together and made a move, you’d be into it. and look at this!” she gestured dramatically to the two of you tangled up in bed. “guess who just won?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “are you serious, jay?” you teased, lightly poking his arm. “you made a bet about this?”

jay peeked up from his hands, his face still bright red as he mumbled, “i didn’t think i’d ever actually win, okay? i was convinced you’d never be interested in me like that.”

“well,” you said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss him softly on the cheek. “you should’ve listened to hanna.”

hanna laughed, clapping her hands together. “maybe now you won’t be so awkward around her.” she paused, then raised an eyebrow at jay. “or are you still gonna be shy even after all this?”

jay blushed again, mumbling under his breath, “probably still awkward.”

“so was he good?” hanna smirked, leaning against the doorframe, clearly not ready to let this moment go just yet.

“hanna, leave!” jay shrieked, his face turning an even deeper shade of red as he grabbed a pillow and hurled it toward the door. hanna ducked just in time, laughing as the pillow bounced off the wall.

“fine, fine!” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“i’m going, but listen up, jay.” her playful tone turned serious for a second as she pointed at him, her eyes narrowing. “if you hurt her, even once, i’ll disown your ass. seriously.” she shot you a wink before stepping out, still laughing as she shut the door behind her.

jay groaned, flopping back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands again. “i can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered, clearly mortified.

you couldn’t help but giggle, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “don’t worry,” you teased. “you survived her wrath, and I think you did just fine.”

jay peeked out from under his hands, his cheeks still flushed, but a small smile crept onto his face. “yeah?” he asked, sounding a little shy.

“yeah,” you whispered, leaning in closer, “more than fine.”

jay’s eyes softened as he stared deeply into yours, his face inches from yours as he nuzzled into your neck, finally relaxing now that hanna had left the room. his breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the tension melt away as the two of you sank deeper into each other’s embrace.

"y/n," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath, "i like you a lot."

his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. there was something so genuine, so raw in the way he said it, like he’d been holding onto that confession for so long and could finally let it out.

“i like you a lot too, jay,” you whispered back, your voice filled with the same tenderness. “a lot more than I realized.”

he smiled against your neck, his arms tightening around you, holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “fuck, this feels like a dream,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin. “i can’t believe this is real.”

"it’s real," you whispered, kissing his forehead gently. "and i’m not going anywhere."

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his face still flushed but full of warmth. "yay." he said with a small, shy grin.

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[pinkponyclubbb3]

Casual part 2

summary: y/n and Chris haven’t talked since the incident a couple months ago. They run into each other at a party Chris hates how much y/n is messing around with people who are not him.

warnings: Drinking,Cussing, dry humping, degrading, praise, public (?) sex , spanking

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“Yeah, long as my bitches love me!” I sing to the mirror while I apply my blush. A lot has changed in the last couple of months. I realized I liked smoking and drinking.I cut Chris off, and with that, I haven’t talked to Nick or Matt. I still have a lot of love for them, but it’s hard to converse with someone who has the same face as my… ex. I’m not sure what to call him.

I get up and look through my closet. As i’m looking through my dress I find an all familiar looking hoodie. Fresh Love. I stare at it for a couple seconds and sigh. “Casual.” I scoff.

(flashback)

He takes off his shirt, leaving him in just his pajama pants, and gets into bed. He holds me in his arms and kisses my head. I hear him sigh, assuming he closed his eyes to sleep. His arms are wrapped around me, and I can’t help but think about everything that has happened. As I stare into space memories are flooding back. What am I doing? Letting him hold me and kiss me after what he told me earlier. “Chris.” I tap his arm. “Hmm” he whines. “Chris I want to go home.” I say with my eyes watering. Tears threatening to come out if I blink.

“What? Why?” He says in his tired voice. “You really hurt my feelings, Chris.” I’m avoiding eye contact so he doesn’t know i’m a blink away from crying. He sits up and sighs out of frustration. “What do you want from me, y/n?”

“I want you, Chris. How are you going to tell me everything we’ve done meant nothing to you?” He takes a deep breath as if he’s trying to stop himself from whatever was going to come out of his mouth. “I’ll tell Matt to take you home, he’ll pick you up to get your car in the morning.” That’s it? I stand up putting on a random hoodie and sweats. I stare at him waiting for a ‘just kidding’ or ‘i’m joking’ but it never comes. “I hate you.”

(end of flashback)

I ordered my Uber and put on my heels while I waited. I’m wearing a short, tight leopard print dress with knee-high heel boots. I look at myself in the mirror to make sure I look okay. I nod satisfied that everything came out good. I get a notification that my Uber is outside.

“For y/n?” I give him a smile and nod. Fuck he’s fine. I get in the backseat and buckle up. We don’t speak, but I catch him staring at me in the mirror. Sinful thoughts flood my mind. I squeeze my thighs together feeling how soaked i’m getting. Get it together y/n. I think to myself. “You headed to a party?” I nod “Yup.”

I look through my bag and pull out a mini vodka bottle. I twist the top and open my mouth to pour the liquid. He looks at me while biting back a smile. “You know I could get you in trouble for that?” I look at him and see he’s already looking at me through the review mirror. “Yeah? Wanna get me in trouble?” I ask him flirtatiously.

“Mhm. Want to teach you a lesson about drinking in strangers' cars.” I swipe my teeth with my tongue. “Come show me what happens to girls when they break the rules then.” He smirks at me and shakes his head. We’ve arrived at the party and I see cars filling up the parking spaces. He parks and unbuckles his seatbelt. I smile while biting my lip excited for what’s about to happen. He opens his door and joins me in the back.

“Wanna find out what happens to bad girls?” I bring my hand to his hair and start twisting it. “Mhm.” He sits me down on his thigh and grabs both my wrists, holding them behind my back. He smashes his lips on mine, desperate to taste me. He moves my hips, so I grind on his thigh, making me moan and giving his tongue access to my mouth. His jeans are pressing on my clothed clit. He guides my hips to start dry-humping his thigh. He takes the top of my dress and lowers it exposing my tits.

“So perfect.” He tightly grabs my left tit and slaps it. “Mm fuck.” I start grinding faster ready for any sort of release. “You like being slapped around?” I nod unable to give him a verbal answer. My head thrown back, my mouth opened and eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth while looking up at me taking my nipple into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around and biting down. Profanities leaving my mouth. The knot in my stomach starts forming letting me know how close I am. “Keep doing that I’m so close.” He grips my hips keeping me in place and stopping the friction.

“W-what?” He grips my hair, forcing me to look up. “You think bad girls get to cum?” I shake my head no. “Words,y/n,” he says. “No, they don’t get to cum.” He leans closer and starts kissing my neck. “Please let me finish .” He lets go of my hair so I can look at him. I grab his shoulders and start the rhythm again. “Please? I’ll be so good for you. Let me show you how bad I need you.” He starts sucking on my neck, assuming he is leaving hickeys.

I feel his hand grip my tits again. He uses his thumb to play with my nipple. It doesn’t take long for that feeling in my stomach to come back. “Such a good fucking girl getting off on my thigh.” I nod relentlessly getting closer to my orgasm. “Fuck i’m close.” He grips my hips making me go at a faster pace getting to my climax quicker.

I reach my orgasm and can’t help but chant profanities. My legs twitch as I finish feeling a little overstimulated. I let go of his shoulders and lay my head on his shoulder. “Fuck that felt so good.” I can feel his erection. I pull up my dress and get off his lap. He grabs my face and starts kissing me again. I reach into my bag and pull out another bottle. “Here let me get that.” he takes the bottle from me and opens it. “Open wide, princess.” I open my mouth as he pours it all into me.

“Such a good girl. Swallow for me, yeah?” I swallowed tightly, closing my eyes as I felt the drink burning my throat. “Thanks for getting me off. I’d love to continue, but I have a party to go to.” I tap his face and open the door. As I adjust my dress, I look up and meet eyes with the triplets. “Hi, guys!” I say casually. “What were you doing?” you mean who? I laugh at my joke but can’t say it aloud. “What? nothing just got dropped off from my uber.” As I say that the driver exits the back seat. Please don’t say anything I say to myself.

The boys look at me in disbelief. I see jealousy and anger in Chris’s eyes. “That was fun, mama. Maybe next time we’ll finish what we started, " he says, getting into the front seat and driving away. My eyes widen but I can’t help but laugh. “Who was that?” Chris asks angrily. I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure I never got his name.” I run to pull Matt and Nick into a hug. “My favorite triplets how are you!” I give them a kiss on the cheek. “We’re good i’ve missed you.” Nick says. Chris pulls me away from them. He signals his brothers to start walking inside.

“Pull your fucking dress down. I can see your thong.” My eyes widened, and I immediately pulled my dress down. “Were you fucking him?” God, I hate how beautiful he is. “And if I was?” I ask, challenging him. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.” He looks so serious. I can’t tell if I’m scared or turned on. “What if I told you he got me off? Would that make you mad?” His jaw is clenched. He lifts my chin so I can’t look anywhere but his face. “Don’t test me, y/n.” I slap his hand away from my face. “Don’t be mad Chris. We were just casual remember?” I walk away from him and go inside.

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Body’s are grinding up against each other. It smells like a mix of weed, sweat, and alcohol. I’m past tipsy at this point. I haven’t talked to anyone all night, but I’m enjoying myself, so that’s all that matters. One of my favorite songs comes on and I leave the bar to go dance. I’d usually be embarrassed but I have too much alcohol in my system to care. I feel someone behind me. I turn around to meet eyes with a stranger. “I’m Dean.” I continue dancing. “Yeah I don’t care let’s just dance.”

he grabs my hips and so i’m basically grinding on him. Our body’s moving in sync as we move to the beat of the music. The lights are flashing. I look around and see everyone enjoying themselves. “Didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.” I roll my eyes. I don’t want to get to know him I just want to dance. “Didn’t throw it.” I find drunk me hilarious. I see Matt dancing with a random girl. He’s smiling while his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. That girl is bent over dancing? Looks more like foreplay. Dean guides his hands all over my body.

I feel eyes on me. I look to my right and see Chris sitting at the bar, watching me like a hawk. I give him a wink and bring my attention back to Dean. I turn around to face him. Our faces are inches apart. He leans in to kiss me. He’s not bad-looking but doesn’t compare to the man in the Uber or … Chris. I hate how much I think about him. I give his tongue access to explore my mouth. I feel him bite my lower lip, and his hand is placed on my lower back. He pushes me closer to him to deepen the kiss.

I back up to go back to dancing. I regret that, I tell myself. This must be what post-nut clarity feels like. I look to my right again and see Chris chug his drink and slam the glass down. He gets up and walks over to me. “She’s taken.” Before I had the chance to protest, he starts dragging me off the dance floor. “What the fuck?” He doesn’t stop until we reach a bathroom. The bathroom has a red light instead of a normal one. He slams the door and locks it.

(A/n: if you can listen to music and read you should listen to ‘Bathroom by ‘Montell Fish’ for this scene)

I'm not sure what’s going to happen next, but a part of me can’t wait to find out. “So you’re just slutting yourself out tonight, huh?” I was taken aback, my eyebrows furrowed. “What I do is none of your business.” I poke his chest with my pointer finger. With a quick movement, he turns me around and bends me over the sink so I’m staring at him and myself in the mirror. He traces my ass with his fingers and smacks hard. “Fuck.”

“Such a bad, bad girl.” he taunts. Too speechless to say anything, I watch him through the mirror. I see him take off his belt while refusing to break eye contact. Once it’s out, he lifts my dress slowly. He folds his belt in his hands and taunts me with it. I hiss when the coldness of the leather makes contact with my ass. He takes his fingers and pulls my underwear to the side. “Spread your legs for me, princess.” I do what he says. He takes the leather in his hands and uses it to touch my wet pussy.

Once he finishes teasing me, he uses all his force to spank me with it. I grip the sink, shutting my eyes from the pain. “Fuck Chris!” I hear him laugh. He doesn’t give me a chance to recover before he hits me again. I throw my head back. A mix of pain and pleasure fills my body. “Does it hurt?” I look at him with tears swelling in my eyes.”mhm” He takes his fingers and inserts them into my folds. “Your body is telling me otherwise.” He turns me around to face him. He kneels down onto his knees. He doesn’t say a word and just flattens his tongue and licks my wet pussy. My eyes roll back and my hands grip harder on the sink

He takes the tip of his tongue to tease my clit. “O-oh my god-” he takes his two fingers and teases my entrance. He starts sucking on my clit while he inserts his fingers. My breath quickens when his fingers start fucking me at a fast pace. “Yes just like that, Chris.” I say in a whisper too overwhelmed by the pleasure. His fingers curl inside of me making me give pornographic moans. Chris's grin widens as he feels me getting closer and closer to the edge. He increases the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of me rapidly while his mouth sucks on my clit The room fills with my loud moans and the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of me.

Chris pulls out his fingers, leaving me panting and desperate. He turns me around to face the mirror, pushing my hips against the sink and spreading my legs apart. He steps back and looks at our reflection, his eyes dark with desire. "Look at yourself," I don’t say anything. Trying to catch my breath. “Look at how ready you are for me..." He runs his hands down my back, grabbing my hips and positioning himself behind me. He lines himself up with my entrance, his eyes locked onto mine in the mirror. “Please Chris I need you so fucking bad.”

Chris grips my hips tightly and slowly pushes into me. His face contorts in pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt. He leans over me, his hot breath on my neck. "Eyes on the mirror," he growls, pulling back and thrusting into me again, harder this time. “F-fuck!” I can’t help but close my eyes, too overwhelmed with euphoria. I feel his hand tangle in my hair and pull my head back. “Eyes on the mirror,y/n. Look at us.” His voice low and demanding. I pry my eyes open trying my hardest not to break contact.

Chris grins, watching my reflection as he takes me rough and hard. His thrusts are deep and punishing, filling the room with the sound of slapping skin. His eyes flick down to where we’re joined, watching as he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back into me. “Chris!” I scream out. We’ve had sex before but it’s never been like this. “Tell me how much you hate me,y/n.” I shake my head no refusing to tell him. “Come on you had no problem telling me a couple months ago.” he taunts. “Tell me sweetheart I want to hear it.” He pulls my hair and he thrusts hard into me.

He grinds his hips into me, the movement drawing a low, guttural moan from my throat. "Say that you hate me, y/n." He can see the resistance in my eyes, but also the undeniable heat between my thighs. He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "You hate me...say it..." I nod giving in. “I hate you with everything in me, Chris.”

He grins darkly, his hand tightening in my hair as he pistons into me harder. "Louder," he demands. "I want to hear you scream that you hate me while I'm buried inside you.” He bites down on my neck, sucking hard as he continues to pound into me. “I- fucking hate you.” his other hand comes around and starts rubbing my clit. “Atta girl.” I start panting at the contact he’s making with my clit. “Look in the mirror… Look at how much you hate me.”

He watches our reflection his eyes dark with lust. I shut my eyes feeling my orgasm slowly approaching. “Don’t close your eyes.” He demands. “Watch us.” I force my eyes open again. He slams into me one last time, his fingers rubbing furiously against my clit as he buries himself deep inside me. “Chris! I’m cumming!” my body shaking and convulsing around him.

He pulls out of me and forces me on my knees. “Open wide, baby let me feel all of you.” He grips my hair as he guides me to his cock. He pushes himself into my mouth. His length filling me up. My eyes immediately watering as I look up at him. His pace quickens,his thrusts becoming shallower as he’s about to cum. His face contorts in pleasure as he comes undone. His grip in my hair tightens painfully. He watches me struggle to swallow his cum, tears in my eyes.

He pulls out of my mouth, breathing heavily while wiping my chin. His face hardens, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He leans down and tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "Say 'thank you, Chris, for letting me swallow'," he demands coldly. I can feel the wetness between my thighs build up again. “Thank you, Chris” I say quietly. His smirk widens and he nods approvingly. “Such a good girl.”

He helps me up and pulls my dress down. “Sorry for being so rough with you.” sorry? “I need to sleep with more men if it means you’ll fuck me like that.” I say sarcastically. His eyes darken not finding that funny. “Let’s go back to the party.” I fix myself up in the mirror. “Alcohol isn’t good for me.” I say as fix my top.

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A/N: hope you enjoyed part two!!!! the smut is something different from my other posts i hope you liked it!! check my pinned post to find out how to be tagged in future fics!!

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[maidragoste]

hey hun! im sorry for your loss and i saw u post abt needing distracting. so could u write a jace x reader? it could be any plot you want whatsoever and could it be a modern au? as well fluffy! is that okay?

Hi, how are you?

Thank you for your message 💖 I'm sorry it took me so long to upload your request (in the end it cost me more than I thought to recover and then university and trying to find a job overwhelmed me) but I hope you like the result 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It hadn't really been Jacaerys' intention to wait for you to come back from your date. He should be doing some college work but instead, he's watching TV without paying attention to it thinking about how the hours are passing and you still haven't come home. Your date should be fun if you don't text Jace anymore. Jace shouldn't be worried about you because he knew Rhaena would never have set you up with an idiot but he still couldn't help being worried.

Jacaerys wanted you to come home and see if you were okay. It would hurt him to hear the details of your date and see you all excited about another boy but he would bear it.

If only Jace wasn’t afraid of ruining things between you two then he would have taken you out himself after hearing you complain about how your love life is dead instead of letting Rhaena set you up with one of her friends. But Jacaerys is sure that you don’t see him as more than a friend and he doesn’t want to risk losing you so he doesn’t make a move. He's content with being able to be in your life, with the chaotic mornings of the two of you getting ready before going to class, with your text messages telling him everything that happens to you during the day, with the nights cooking together and with the breaks where you watch series snuggled together on the couch.

Jacaerys looks away from the TV as he hears the keys clicking into the lock. You walk in and Jace feels a pit in his stomach because you don’t look excited, you look defeated? Your eyes meet his and you give him a tired smile but you quickly break eye contact to take off your coat and sneakers and then run to the couch with him.

“So you wanna talk about it?” Jacaerys doesn’t even finish asking how much you’re already talking.

“It was fine. He’s nice and we talked for hours. Everything was going well until the end because he tried to kiss me.” If you hadn’t been busy fidgeting nervously you would have noticed how your roommate seemed to tense up all of a sudden. “I declined and he wasn’t bothered but it was awkward.” You sighed.

“Why did you reject him? Are you the kind of person who has a rule of not kissing on the first date?”

“Because I don’t like him” you declared, suddenly looking up and for a moment, at the intensity of your gaze, Jace forgot to breathe. “I could be his friend, but I’m not interested in him in any other way.”

“Oh” was the only thing that came out of the surprised man’s mouth.

“Oh,” you repeated, “Why did you wait for me, Jace?”

“Who said I was waiting for you? I was watching TV” he denied instantly.

“Jace”

Seeing your beautiful eyes looking at him pleadingly for a moment, Jace was afraid to give in and confess everything to you, as for more than a year he can’t stop thinking about you and wants to be more than your friend. But again, he’s afraid of making you uncomfortable and losing your friendship, so he asks instead.

“What does that have to do with you not liking your date?”

“While I was with him I realized that I actually wanted to be home with you” you confessed and instantly regretted it when you saw that he remained silent. “Forget it. I'm sorry for making it weird” You got up ready to go to your room so you could have a crisis alone about ruining your friendship with Jace when he took you by the hand and pulled you causing you to end up on top of him.

“Oh no, I don’t plan on forgetting it, not when I’ve been pining for you for over a year,” he stated making you smile.

“You’re a coward,” you mocked without malice. “Over a year and you never made a move. You’re lucky I decided to act.”

“You’re right,” he said smiling unbothered. “Now that we’ve established that I’m a fool and you’re the best, can I kiss you?” he asked and you laughed feeling delighted with him.

“Try not to sound so desperate to kiss me.”

“Can you blame me?” He arched an eyebrow, any embarrassment or fear he felt disappearing the moment he knew his feelings were reciprocated. “I thought a lot about kissing you and I finally have the chance.”

At his confession, you felt heat on your face and your smile grew. “You're such a fool.” You took his face in your hands and felt your heart warm at the softness with which Jace looked at you.

The moment your lips touched his Jacaerys knew he would become addicted to your kisses. He would look for any excuse to kiss you as many times as he wanted. You would probably become the clingy couple that his friends would make fun of. But he didn't care and he didn't think you would either because you were kissing him with the same intensity.

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[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 15

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan has thought up a punishment for you that doesn't really help your mental state; someone thinks of a plan to help.

chapter warnings: smut! unprotected sex

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

That’s the sound you get accustomed to a few times throughout the day. It’s Chan, unlocking the door to let himself in. Every time he brings in a tray of food for the two of you to eat, and most of the time you pick at it but you can’t find too much of an appetite. 

The first few times, you don’t talk to Chan at all. You’re completely silent, looking out at the forest through the barred window. Occasionally you would watch his mannerisms or react when he moves something a little bit too loud. Other than that, you make it a point not to speak at all. That’s how it started, at least. 

Each time a few hours pass in total isolation, you slowly become more and more stir crazy. Mostly, you look out the window. Sometimes, you do situps and pushups or practice the self-defense exercises that Changbin and Felix had taught you until exhaustion. You take a few naps. You take a shower. You finish the latest book that Hyunjin let you borrow. Chan visits you for dinner. You do not speak with him, eat your meal in silence, and watch as he leaves. You go to sleep for the night with an empty, hollow and rotting sensation in your chest that you have never experienced before. It might be anger directed towards Chan, but also an empty feeling knowing that you are unable to see Felix, who is in the same house as you. You wonder if he feels the same as you right now. 

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

You wake up to the sound of Chan unlocking your door in the morning with breakfast. You break your silent treatment, finally, though probably more out of boredom than anything else. You only respond to his small talk, tell him that the food is alright. 

The longer increments of time that would pass, the more anger you would find bubbling in your chest. 

“Do you really expect to keep me locked here forever?” you snap at one point. You have just finished rereading The Stranger by Albert Camus for the third time. “You know that’s how people start to lose their minds? Is that what this is? A torture device? Or is it still a sick, twisted ploy to get me to fall in love with you?” you walk around the room, pacing. Your hands are strung through your hair haphazardly as you let out a laugh. “Some sort of Stockholm syndrome to the extreme? You already fucking tried that, Chan! I’m stuck in this house with you, I can’t leave, and it didn’t work. What is your plan here?”

He blinks at you, sitting on your bed and crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.” 

“You… you don’t know?” 

He chuckles and you feel your blood begin to boil. “Well, I mean, I don’t know how long I plan to keep you here. At least until the Heeseung drama boils down. Until I feel confident that Felix is just as broken down about this as you are? I mean, it’s the point of a punishment, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh. “Obviously I know you aren’t going to fall in love with me right now, not like this, yeah? But the thought of you and Felix, it’s so wrong, y’know? So I gotta nip it in the bud.” 

You blink away a tear but wipe it away quicker than he can see. You won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you cry. 

“I hate you,” you spit. When Chan stands, he closes the distance between the two of you. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You might want to watch your mouth for now, especially when you’re the one who’s not in control,” he coos. “If you want to start getting your privileges back, you might want to consider upping the sweet talk.” He leaves as a chill racks through your body and the door slams shut, lock clicking into place behind him. 

You’re not quite sure about *sweet talking*, per say, but you suppose you could calm it down with Chan for now in order to get things back to the way they were. It’s really hard, with the way your anger bubbles every time he enters the room, every additional hour that passes. You start to feel delirious, depressed with nothing much to do, sleeping far too much and eating far too little. 

The flowers start to wilt. 

The flowers that Chan had given you for your date. You don’t even know how long ago that was at this point, feeling a bit too disoriented. You watch over days as the petals start to turn brown, curling up into themselves and falling to the floor. It’s only once every flower has finally turned to black that you convince Chan to let you leave your room. 

It’s only to Hyunjin’s room that he lets you go at first. He supervises your visit. You sit on the corner of Hyunjin’s bed and you sit and talk, nodding politely when he speaks. He updates you on Seungmin’s condition, shows you his newest painting (which is stunning beyond belief), and talks about his latest venture to the bookstore. It’s more than he’s ever talked to you at once, and you’re sure he’s doing it because he knows the effects that the isolation has had on your head, but you appreciate it more than he could ever imagine. 

Chan checks his wrist watch, clearing his throat. He tells you it’s almost time for you to go and you can’t help the panicked feeling that bubbles in your chest. You know that Hyunjin notices it too, the frantic look in your eye as you look to him for help, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You wonder if he and Chan got into a disagreement about it, if anybody besides Felix had the gall to stand up to him about your circumstance but it’s unlikely. 

As Chan guides you out, Hyunjin remembers something, handing you a new book as if it were an afterthought. A brand new copy of Wuthering Heights is placed into your hands. 

“I think you’ll really like this one,” Hyunjin muses. “I hope we get a chance to talk about it soon. I purchased this at that bookstore I was telling you about. Let me take you there one day, okay?” 

You smile at him. A true, genuine, smile before Chan takes you back to your room for dinner. Feeling a little more hopeful, you eat more than usual and talk to him more than yesterday. You think he’s expecting you to thank him. You don’t. He wishes you a good evening before he locks you in your room for the evening. 

Something about Hyunjin’s words had struck you as odd. “I hope we get to talk about it soon.” Since you moved in and Hyunjin had started giving you new books to read, although he was always very sure of himself in his choices, you had never really talked about your choices. Even today during your conversation you didn’t talk about Albert Camus’ The Stranger, which you had read a whopping four times since your isolation.

This is why you’re not as surprised when you open the book and you find a note, wedged neatly between page eight and page nine. It’s not Hyunjin’s handwriting, but Felix’s. You can’t help it when your heart picks up and beats against your chest, a smile against your face despite yourself. 

‘Dear Sunshine,

I am so sorry for everything. Each day that I have not been able to see you and that I have known that you have been behind those doors has been Hell for me, as I’m sure they’ve been Hell for you as well. Let me take you far, far, away from this place if you would let me.

If you will take me, if you want this as much as I do, let us leave tonight. Leave your bathroom light on tonight and I will know that it will be okay for us to make our escape. 

Love, LF.’ 

Are you really reading this correctly? 

It was the first night here that Chan took off his belt and whipped you with it just for leaving when he told you not to leave. What would the punishment be if you and Felix were caught? You knew the answer, and you found yourself grimacing as you thought about it. If Chan found out that you and Felix had escaped—and you had a very, very short window of time before he came looking for you, until breakfast tomorrow—he would surely kill the two of you in cold blood.

Felix, was he really to risk it all for you? No questions asked? You knew you were. 

Turning off all lights in your room, leaving just your bathroom light on for the signal and to light up your path, you get ready. You throw on some clothes, a pair of thick socks and a pair of sneakers, athletic pants and a t-shirt underneath a hoodie. You try to dress both light-weight but also warm, easy for mobility in case you have to do some running. And you take a quick nap, since it’s still light out and you’re sure that the plan won’t take place until after nightfall and you should probably be well-rested. 

You’re right. You wake up a few hours later and it’s dark outside. Felix still hasn’t shown yet. You sit right by your door and wait for him. You wait and wait and wait, your heart beating so heavily out of your chest it might explode. You literally have to calm yourself down with breathing exercises several times because you find yourself so worked up. You can’t help it–you’re so nervous about seeing him again, and about the escape, about his plans, though you’re sure he has something planned out. 

After some time has passed, you almost wonder if maybe he isn’t going to show, but you laugh at that thought. It’s Felix. Of course he’s going to show. You have never met someone more true to his word and dedicated. You just hope that everything is going according to plan. And sure enough?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

Light from the hallway spills into your room, encasing the darkness that surrounded you. When you jump to your feet, Felix pulls you in for a very chaste kiss. His name spills silently from your lips and you see him smile before grabbing your hand, pulling you into a silent run down the hallway. You can already tell that there is going to be a long night ahead of you, though you’re relieved when Felix leads you to a mundane car, a dark mini-van, and you can’t help but think thank god we aren’t literally running away. 

You hurriedly get into the passenger seat, Felix the driver’s seat, and the two of you drive away. You watch as the house gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror behind you until it completely disappears, and most of your anxiety along with it. 

“You came for me.” you say finally. 

“Of course I did,” Felix says, his voice soft. “I just had to work out the logistics. I’m so so incredibly sorry it took me that long. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“It’s really happening?” you ask him. “We’re really leaving?” 

Felix only smiles. “I did everything I could. I was even able to get your sister out of your house, I sent her somewhere safe where Chan can’t find her to retaliate.”

“Thank you, Felix,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Really, really, thank you.” 

He reaches over the center console and grabs your hand, bringing it to his face to kiss along your knuckles. 

“You have no need to thank me. This is my escape too. In reality, I owe you just as much.” Your heart squeezes at his words. You don’t really understand the weight behind his words but you hope that he will open up to you about them one day. About his past and his history with Chan. You stare at Felix, at the way the passing headlights illuminate his face and accentuate his features, and you just sit there and watch and watch, drinking him in and hoping that you will never have to let him go again. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re expecting to arrive at some sort of hotel/motel, similar to the one you and Felix had shared after the night at the gala. What you weren’t expecting was an apartment building, at least ten stories tall in the middle of a city a few hours away. 

Felix parks the car, a protective hand around your waist the whole walk to the building. He holds you so close you find it almost difficult to walk. The elevator takes you up to the eighth floor, where Felix leads you down the hall. The building looks well-kept, maintained inside, contrasting from its run-down exterior. 

Felix leans over the door, typing a code into the keypad. It swings open revealing a large furnished studio apartment. 

“This place looks really nice,” you admit. “It is a step-up from the motel. How did you…” 

“Chan isn’t the only one that has his connections,” Felix says, sighing as he throws a backpack down next to him. He closed the door behind him, locking it. He walks around the apartment several times, making sure that every window is locked and secure as well. “It’s safe here. We should be able to stay here for a few days before we need to pick up again. But this place is completely alarmed and equipped with security codes. He won’t find us here, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod. You really do trust him. You feel safe. 

“The password for the front door is 0325,” Felix tells you. You don’t know why that action alone makes you want to tear up. You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re really free. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, shucking your hoodie off of your body. You don’t miss the way his eyes rack over your frame at the way your shirt picks up slightly. How does he still manage to make you blush? “How did you get the code for my door?” you ask him. You had been wondering about it for a while, as there was no way that Chan had given it to him. 

“Hyunjin told me,” Felix discloses. “He was the only other person besides Chan that knew the code, in case of an emergency or if Chan was away and he needed to give you food.” 

“He was the only one?” you ask. “But that means… Won’t Chan know that Hyunjin…” 

“Hyunjin has already come to terms with things,” Felix says remorsefully. “I didn’t want it to go down like this either, but Hyunjin really was willing to make a sacrifice for you. For both of us. Nothing horrible is going to happen–he isn’t going to be killed, but I’m sure the punishment will be brutal.” 

You shake your head, unwilling to believe his words. “I can’t believe Hyunjin would do that for us. I really thought he was loyal to Chan.” 

“At the end of the day there must have been something he found more important to put his trust in,” he smiles. “I think he realized how bad your mental state was after spending over a week in that room.” 

“It was over a week?” you nearly cry. Felix holds you tight to his chest. You don’t cry–you’ve already come to terms with what has happened. When you pull apart, you look into his eyes and find that he has tears of his own that have started to build up. Now that is something that you had not anticipated. 

“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but you crash your lips into his instead. Your hands pull into his hair and you push your body into his, do anything you can to get your body as inhumanly close to his as possible, so that you can feel every touch of his skin against yours. 

Felix’s hands wander underneath your hoodie, tugging off the material and throwing it to the floor in a desperate show. His hands roam your body, his lips never once leaving your skin. This time he makes it a show to suck a mark into any available surface, licking and sucking dark purples and pinks into your neck, collarbones, shoulders, breasts–any area of skin that was once pristine now has Felix’s claim on it. 

“You’re mine, do you understand? You’re mine and I’m yours.” 

“Yes, Felix, yes,” you agree, letting him push you back against the bed. He towers over you for a second, dropping to his knees onto the floor so that he can pull off the material of your pants. You lift your hips, allowing him to. You push your thighs together, utterly exposed in front of him but also so aroused by his stare and he grabs your thighs, pushing them apart. 

“Beautiful,” he comments. You throw an arm over your face, embarrassed by his comment. “Don’t hide from me, angel,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs. “You’re mine, right? Can I compliment what’s mine? You’re not going to hide away what’s mine, hmm?” When you don’t immediately answer him, your chest rising and falling rapidly from his words, you feel a slight pinch come from inside your thigh. You look down at his mischievous face to realize he has just lightly slapped your inner thigh to get a response. 

“N-no, Felix,” you moan. 

“No, what?” he teases, his mouth going higher and higher still, his breath right above your center but waiting. 

“No, I’m not going to hide from you. Yes, you can compliment me,” you reply.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he groans. “Prove it, then. Open those legs wide for me.” And you do. You spread your legs as far as they would go and Felix rewards you by immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit like a man starved. As much as your thighs tremble and shake and threaten to close, you don’t let them. Your eyes stay on Felix, and his eyes on yours. 

Suddenly, Felix pulls away with a pop. 

“What–”

He climbs onto the bed and lays down, leaving you utterly confused before he grabs you by the waist, manhandling you effortlessly by the waist onto his face. 

“Felix, what are you doing?” 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs as if trying to coax you down to properly take your seat. 

“Are you sure? I–”

“Please, just, use me. Make yourself cum, and then I’ll fuck you open on my cock.” You can’t deny how appealing his words sound, and he had already worked you up just seconds ago so you can’t find the resolve to protest much longer. Eagerly, you sit. His tongue prods your entrance, pushing in as far as it will go. You rock yourself back and forth on his face, your clit occasionally catching on his nose, and you find Felix’s hands taking place on your ass to help you find your pace. 

Once you build up a rhythm you ride him in earnest, like nothing matters but him beneath you right now and your climax building up. He knows you’re close when he feels your thighs clench tighter around your head and your back starts to arch back, and your noises have become louder. You do exactly what he told you to do–you use him for your pleasure until you’re having one of the longest, most drawn-out orgasms of your life. 

When you finally crawl off of him, Felix wastes no time before flipping your positions, making your stomach turn with butterflies. He pulls his pants off in one swift motion and you take a moment to look at him in awe, to really just appreciate him and his beautifully toned body despite seeing it a few times before. 

You watch as he strokes his cock a few times, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He pushes forward, and just to tease–intentionally catches the head of it on your overstimulated clit, causing you to cry out. 

“Felix!” your hips buck up, your legs wrap around him, doing anything you can just to get him to enter you properly. 

“Do you want me that bad?” he asks with a smile, his voice a low timbre in your ear. 

“Yes, Felix, stop fucking teasing me, you know I want you–” and with that, he pushes right into you, fully sheathing himself in one thrust. Your hands come up to push crescent fingernail indents into his shoulders, just to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation. 

Felix wastes no time before fucking you like he really means it, his hips pulling out to meet yours flush each time. The way his hips roll in a fluid motion into yours has you crying out, wrapping your legs around him. 

“Fuck, you’re clenching me so tight,” he pants. “I’m going to cum soon, baby. Where do you want it?” 

You wrap your legs even tighter around him. 

His hand snakes up to your neck, just placing it there, not even squeezing but it still causes you to cry out with a moan that is borderline pornagraphic. 

“You’re being so dirty, baby. Are you trying to tell me something? You want me to cum inside? Because you’re going to have you use your words to tell me that or else it’s not gonna happen,” he grins. 

His hips snap into yours so hard it’s almost bruising, but you’re so close to your second orgasm that you think you could fall over the edge any second. 

“FELIX,” you finally cry out. You’re sure the scratches you’re leaving into his back are going to leave marks, if not bleed. 

“Fuck, you gotta tell me now.” 

“Inside! Inside! I want you to cum inside, fuck, I love you Felix, please!” you sob. 

He kisses you. Rather, his lips smash into yours so hard you’re not sure what is happening, but you’re cumming so hard it’s blinding. You can feel him still as he fills you up with warm ropes of his cum. 

When you both finally come down, Felix flops beside you and you immediately curl into his chest. He embraces you, his hands stroking unknown symbols into your skin. 

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks. 

You don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. “Yes,” you reply. “I think I’ve known it for a long time.”

“I love you, too.” Felix tells you, grabbing your chin so that he can press another kiss into your lips. “You mean the world to me.” 

That night, Felix looks around the apartment again, making sure that everything is in its place. When you see that there is both a couch and a bed, you make a joke about sleeping on the couch that causes him to quite literally pick you up and throw you into bed with him. You fall asleep like that, intertwined in his arms, not worried about accidentally getting caught and what the consequences might be tomorrow. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You toss and turn. Images plague your mind. A guilt-ridden feeling plagues your gut. 

Minho, who gets anxiety on missions, who wanted to get away from his family and the life of crime from his childhood, but couldn’t let Jisung go alone for fear of what Chan would do to him.

Changbin, who has only wanted to protect his family, but instead Chan has held that over his head.

Hyunjin, who didn’t really know how to find himself after being told who to be, who didn’t know what to do with his life, exploited by Chan. 

Jisung, who has never had anybody tell him that he is good for more than shooting things and a life of violent crime, and had Chan take advantage of that. 

Seungmin, who had only one dream and had it taken away through an injury, was falsely promised by Chan that one day he could get the surgery and recover to play baseball again. 

Jeongin, who turned to a life of crime but was told he could have the money to go to fashion school, all if he would become Chan’s lackey. 

Even Felix, who you’re sure has been through something just as horrible, though he hasn’t told you yet… 

At the end of the day, there’s one common factor in all of this evil. 

You know that you can’t stay here and live a fantasy life, where you get to escape and be free while the rest of them are trapped there and still living in a nightmare. At the end of the day, you have started to develop close relationships with each and every one of them, and you can’t bring yourself to think more about the horrors that Chan continues to inflict on them each day while you get to run away with Felix. 

Picking up Felix’s arm, you kiss him on the head. You feel very remorseful for what you’re about to do, for the amount of mental anguish you are probably about to put him in when everything was finally going to go your way. You wish you could have relished in this a little bit longer. 

Opening up the bedside table, you grab Felix’s car keys and his gun. 

This has to end, and it has to end now. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: we're getting close to the end! two main chapters and two mini chapters left!! sorry for the delay today guys, I only had this chapter half written i wrote the rest in a coffee shop lol <3

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