This Is So Adorable Omg

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 2

The second day gives you a moment of reflection, and an interesting insight into his position in not only this arrangement, but the scene in general. And he also helps you use your past bad experiences go create a new one- one you'll probably never forget.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, discussion of past bad experiences (sexual and general relationships), bondage (tied wrists), sensual dominance, Oral (male receiving), handjob (female receiving), squirting, more of Jungkooks dirty thoughts but its pretty tame this time haha, aftercare, romantic tension is that a thing I'm making it a thing now

Length: 5.3k

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hello hi I hope this doesn't disappoint 💗

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

The next day, it's him who wakes up first. And for a minute or two, he's actually unsure where he is- why is he on the couch? And why does his chest feel so heavy?

And then it all bleeds back into him, fills his head with nothing but memories of what happened yesterday.

He wonders if it feels the same for you as it does to him. Do you enjoy it? Sure, it looks like it, feels like it- but what if you only pretend to not make him feel bad?

He knows what's going on with him, so he decides to be a little selfish for once. You'll understand- he's doing it to stay sane and in a good headspace after all, and that only benefits you at the end of the day.

His arms move around a bit, adjust as he carefully pulls you a little closer, just to reassure himself. You're sleeping deeply, resting comfortably, and that can only mean that he's not scary to you. You still like him, you still want to spend time with him.

You wake up slowly, stretch your limbs for a second before you yawn, eyes slowly opening to look at him. "What's wrong?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing." He smiles, speaks with an equally as tired voice towards you, as you to him. You don't buy his cheap lie though.

"If I need to be honest at all times, I want you to do that too." You argue sleepily. "Thats only fair."

"You're right." He sighs, running a hand through your hair. "You remember how you dropped yesterday, during your shower after I warned you what could happen?" He reminds you, and you nod, suppressing a yawn. "Well, I'm having somewhat of a similar situation. It's fine though- I'm already feeling much better." He reassures, but you move, and lean on your hands before you sit up.

"No, wait-" you shake your head. "-can I help with that? Like, you helped me, there's got to be something I can do in return." You tell him, and he can't help but lean his head back, close his eyes and laugh.

You're just too precious.

"I just need you." He says after a moment, hand reaching out for yours to take. "Thats all." He shrugs, and you watch him with suspicion, though you do take his inviting hand and lay back down close to him.

"Can you.. you don't have to if it's weird!" You instantly interrupt yourself, making him chuckle. "But.. okay so, it made sense to me that as the.. receiving one and stuff, you'd go through a drop of emotions. Like, of course, sure. But like, I don't really understand how you'd get the same feeling? You're the leader and stuff, right?" You wonder, and he nods, humming to himself as he thinks about how to properly explain it.

"People tend to think that the sub is.. some sort of 'victim' towards the dominant person." Jungkook says, while the arm you lay on is bent, hand drawing shapes on the tip of your shoulder. "In reality, it's a clear power exchange, right? I only do what you tell me I can. You're calling the shots. You make the boundaries- I only ever have as much power as you're willing to give me." He explains to you, and you nod. "And with that comes.. responsibility. Pressure. Because in order for you to be able to let yourself fall, I have to be able to hold you for that time." He continues, as your hand reaches out to let your finger follow some of the inked lines of his tattoos. "I go through just as many emotions as you do. It's why I told you aftercare is important for us both." He says, looking at where your finger is tracing his skin. "Without it, I can drop just as hard."

You adjust your position as he finishes his explanation, looking at him. "Is there.. can I do anything to make sure you.. like, don't?" You ask. "As in- what do you need to feel good afterwards too?" You wonder, and he laughs to himself, shaking his head before he pulls you a bit closer for a second.

"Like I said-" he says, stretching his arms as well. "-I just need you. As long as you make me feel wanted, I'll be fine." He offers, before he kisses you're forehead, only to get up and walk into the bathroom right after.

You're not entirely sure if you understand what he means by making him 'feel wanted'-

But you'll do everything that you can to make sure he's gonna enjoy this week just as much as you know you will.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

You're both having breakfast, simple foods on the table, and in a way, it feels almost domestic. You already don't want to ever leave his home ever again- everything's so calm and it feels almost.. surreal. You've never felt like this. Up until now, you've always been somewhat stressed about things, so much so that it's become normal to you. The pressure of work, someone ringing the doorbell even if it's just the mailman, your boss calling you into office every now and then- pressure and stress have always been there for you. So, in a way, this calm and carefree bubble you're currently in, is intimidating you.

A lot.

"Have you ever given head before?" Jungkook asks suddenly, making you choke on your glass of water, making him pat your back with a grin on his face. "Sorry, I should've waited until you were done drinking." He laughs, and you slowly catch your breath again.

"I uh- tried but it was awkward really quickly so he.. kind of told me not to.." you reply to him, your words growing quieter towards the end. He feels an odd sense of pity for you- not really in a demeaning manner, but more so in a way of empathy. After all, he's been through a bad relationship in the past too- one that had given him major insecurities from himself and his body, issues he needed time for to solve them for himself. He feels for you. You should've never had to experience those things.

But if he can do anything to help you heal, he will do it.

"Did you not like it?" He asks casually, eating the simple breakfast food he's made earlier. He's so at ease with these things that you can't help but be as well- shrugging.

"I.. don't remember." You answer honestly. "I'm not sure anymore. I think.. like, the idea of doing it with you seems a bit intimidating, but not.. unattractive, you know?" You say, carefully lifting your gaze to look at him, who's lips are slowly turning upwards at the corners as he chews his food.

"Would you like to try? After we're done eating?" He asks, and you nod. It's another sign that you're growing more comfortable with him- clear answers falling more freely from you, you're no longer as eager to make sure you keep your true intentions hidden. And while he knows you still hold back a lot, he still appreciates the steps you're taking towards him.

Because it makes him eager to finally take your hand and never let go.

"You know.." You start, slowly, and he let's you go at your own pace for a moment, not pressuring you by looking at you or anything. He knows you're easily intimidated and pushed backwards whenever you try and jump over your own shadow in any way, so he tries to keep things as comfortable as he can for now. Just like he said, he's getting to know you, after all- not only on a physical level, but an emotional one as well. He's got the unique opportunity to really look behind the scenes of your otherwise always carefree nature you put up.

He wants this simple act to become a reality with him. He wants to be able to actually make you feel relaxed, and comfortable, and not so stressed all the time. Because he felt it. In the tense muscles of your body, in your need to somehow prove to him that you can be independent, and even before he got to touch you he's known. You seem awfully terrified of relying on someone, of trusting, or simply letting someone else take the reigns. You never truly let yourself go, and while he wants to know why- this week, he's rather gonna focus on showing you that he can be a safe zone for you.

He can't erase what memories you've already made. He can't undo what's happened to you- but he can make sure that your future experiences will outweigh any bad past you're carrying around.

"How about we.. uhm.." You start, instantly gaining his attention. You seem to think deeply before you bite on your bottom lip, a nervous habit he's already noticed. He does it too, mostly with his piercings- so he's in no position to try and scold you for it. "Like, I feel like you're not.. uh.." You don't know how to say it, and it's clear to him. He wonders what you want to say. He's not- what? What do you want him to do?

"You know you can be honest with me." He chuckles. "Really. If there's anything I'm doing that's not comfortable to you, you should actually said it." he offers, and you nod, putting your cutlery down before you lean back on your hands.

"It just.." You still struggle clearly. "You're the.. dom, right?" You ask, and he nods. "But, it doesn't really feel like it?" You carefully phrase, probably because you don't want to scratch his ego in case he'd feel attacked. But he's not so fragile. He won't break from a simple observation like that.

Mostly, because you're right. And that's been a calculated move from the very start.

"I don't want to overwhelm you, simply." He shrugs. "I hardly think you would've enjoyed our first experience together if I was to push you around and bark orders at you, would you?" He jokes almost, and you nod after thinking about it.

He's right. That would've probably more or less traumatized you.

"But we can definitely increase the intensity, if you want to." Jungkook offers casually. "I go at your pace, after all."

"But is that even enjoyable to you then?" You wonder, a bit insecure. "Isn't it boring?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Trust me-" He smiles, collecting the empty dishes on the table. "-having sex with the person you love is never boring." He winks, before he takes your dishes too, and brings them into the kitchen to wash them.

All while you're left stunned by his words spoken so effortlessly and out in the open as if they were nothing.

You wonder when you'll be able to do that.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

It's only Tuesday, and for some reason, sex has already begun to feel.. almost natural with Jungkook.

He doesn't make it into an awkward show, or something you need to endlessly prepare for- and neither does he keep it strictly bound to one place or setting like you've known it to be in the past. Jungkook is a free spirit- and it shows in the way he approaches sex and intimacy.

It's odd, how you're already noticing that.

"Now remember, Tiger stops everything. Saying it is nothing bad, it won't make things awkward-" he recites to you, as he crawls onto the couch, already shirtless. "-well simply calm down, clean up, and talk about what made you use it. Not to put you on a pedestal-" he continues, and you nod.

"-But to communicate and learn, I know." You reassure him, and he smiles, tapping below your chin.

"Good Girl." He teases, probably accidentally making your heart jump.

Whenever he says things like this, does things like this, you feel like you're actually falling in love with him. And that's fine, right? After all, he wants to love you too.

He's just waiting for you, patiently.

"Alright. Eyes on me from now on." He demands, commanding tone making it clear that the scene has begun- and the excitement of it easily begins to bubble up in your veins, filling your bloodstream with warmth and anticipation, while he moves, buckle of his belt jingling a little as he discards his pants- and you just know, from the way he moves, that he's also stripping off the rest of his clothes.

But you stay strong, even though your eyes desperately want to wander lower, curiosity spreading as he moves to sit behind you, when you feel something cool but soft against your wrists he's holding behind your back. "Remember-" he lowly speaks. "-If you feel like you'll panic, say the word." He reminds you one last time, before he pulls his pelt tight, experienced movements of his hands binding together yours, making you unable to use them anymore.

And then, you feel his lips. Faintly, almost teasing, pecking your skin, from the spot where your wrists rest straight up your spine to the back of your neck.

You shiver, but not from the cold. He chuckles as if to answer, before he moves to sit down with his back against the headrest of the pull out couch you've slept on with him last night, reaching out to you.

His hand on your chin, thumb almost gently running over your bottom lip, before he dares to make you open your mouth, his finger on your tongue. Throughout it all, your eyes stay on him, just like he told you they should, and you can feel something happening to you you didn't know was possible.

You feel like you're reaching your peak just from this alone- the sight of him, your hands bound behind your back, the knowledge that he's entirely bare in front of you. You want to see him.

But you wait. He's in charge, after all.

"So pretty.." he chuckles with eyes dark, licking his own bottom lip until the tip of his tongue plays with his piercing a little, while he watches you struggle to stay calm. His hand leaves your face, before he seems to think-

Just for a second though. He won't go there yet- slow steps, steady progress, no rush, he reminds himself.

"Look at you, so patient." He praises, and your breathing picks up at the sound of his words, eyes sparkling. You're so cute, he thinks to himself. Dangerous, most of all. "Tell me what you want." He commands, and you swallow, before you speak.

".. you." You answer. He chuckles.

"I'm right here." He snickers, amused.

"No, like.. I want-" you say, looking down his chest, his stomach, muscle defined as you reach his belly button, before the prominent V-Line greets your vision, soon followed by his hard length fully erect.

It twitches once, and you can't look away.

"Eyes up, darling." He demands, and your gaze snaps back up, earning a pleased smile. "Good Girl." He grins. "Now, I'll ask again. What do you want?" He asks, and you have to physically force the words out of you.

"I want you inside my mouth.." you tell him, and he tilts his head to the side, faking innocence.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling." He purrs down at you, hand around your neck angling your face upwards to straighten your back, fixing your posture for you. It helps- though the simple touch around your throat makes you clench around nothing, oddly enough. It's clear that he's slowly increasing the intensity of the powerplay- no longer as easy to convince.

You've probably already leaked onto the sheets underneath you. And you couldn't care less.

Maybe it's the way he's gotten you to straighten your back in an almost confident position. Maybe it's the praise getting to your head. Or maybe you're just being consumed by your own lust. But suddenly, your words aren't so hard to say out loud any longer as you speak.

"I want to please you." You say, and it catches him off guard a little. "Please let me have it.." you plead, and in this moment, he doesn't care that you're technically still not speaking out what you want specifically. He really couldn't care less.

How could he, with a goddess Aphrodite on her knees right in front of him, asking to pleasure him?

"Go ahead, darling." He says, finally offering his permission. "Let's see what you have to offer, hm?" He teases with a low purr in his tone, and at that, you realize you've received the green light from him.

And quite honestly, suddenly you don't care anymore if you've ever given head- because after all, Jungkook will guide you. Jungkook will use you in any way he deems right.

And you don't mind one bit.

You're not to sure what you're doing, but you're going small steps at a time, threading carefully to check what works and what doesn't. It's intimidating, yes- but not in a bad way. More like, you know what you want, you got the goal right in sight of you, but the road there seems a bit tough to navigate.

But you'll figure it out. You'll earn his praise, his affection, and most of all-

The sight of his face bathed in pleasure.

You lick the very tip as if to taste first, eyes looking up at him to check if there's any change in his expression- but he just watches you for now, not much to be seen on his face yet. Only when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock does he lean his head back, eyes closed and lips parted, and you know that while yes, you're getting what you wanted-

It's not enough. You want to see more.

Your wrists struggle for a second as you're reminded that they're out of order for now- and instead of starting to panic like you thought you might, you instead think of any other way you could use your mouth on him. You don't want to be boring.

If you're boring he might just not want you.

And you want him to want you.

Rolling your tongue around his head, you notice the way the muscles in his lower stomach contract- a clear reaction, face also scrunched up in what you know must be a positive reaction-

Because he's smiling, after all.

You're taking him deeper and deeper, testing your own limits, and its really making him use up all his willpower not to grab your hair and fuck your mouth. Your lips are shiny with your saliva, you're slowly easing that tension in your bones too- you're becoming comfortable, and that alone is reward enough.

That, and your goddamn tongue running over his cock like a succubus.

You're not sure how to properly stimulate him considering you can't fit much of him in your mouth, so you occasionally let him pop out just to lick the rest of him base to tip. You like the way it makes his breath hitch.

"So good." He praises, breathes out mostly as you hold him flat on your tongue, swallowing around him.

And he gasps out at that, a moan escaping him that sounds so forbidden that it sends pleasure right down your core. You do it again, and it makes his face scrunch up, teeth biting his bottom lip as he starts to look concentrated on something.

"You can spit it out." He says, and for a second you're not sure what he's saying, having just started to play around with sucking the head slightly, when his thighs seem to struggle keeping still, a drawn out groan escaping him as his release shoots into your mouth.

You drink him up, and he can't help but laugh.

You really are dangerous, a demon in disguise.

The moment you let him go, you lick your lips, although the bitter taste makes you involuntarily cringe slightly. He can't help but chuckle in endearment at the sight, moving in his position to kiss you, tongue cleaning your lips it feels like, his kiss both incredibly dirty but sweet.

It makes you feel butterflies, and they're just as excitedly fluttering around as your body is as soon as his hand finds its way between your legs.

"So wet- desperate to get off, aren't you?" He asks, and you nod, easily falling onto your back to lift your legs as he strips off your underwear, clear strings of arousal clinging to the fabric for a moment before its discarded somewhere you don't care. "Look at that pretty cunt." He chuckles, hand easily moving, fingers dipping between your lower lips to cover themselves in your juices, every motion smoothly gliding. Two of them enter your achingly empty core, and he feels you clench around his digits already as he moves them in and out. "So soft and warm.. makes me wanna bury myself balls deep inside it." He says, and you whine at the thought of it.

You want it. No matter if you can't take it- you want it.

He takes out his fingers just for a moment to teasingly tap your clit, making you kick out your legs in frustration as he keeps on providing never enough friction or stimulation to truly get you off.

"Please-" you beg, out of breath. "-please make me cum!" You tell him, and the corners of his lips move upwards at your first true demand voiced out clearly.

"You wanna cum, huh.." he hums almost to himself, when he moves to perk your butt up on his thigh, before his hand cups your heat for a moment, as if to contemplate what to do next.

And then his fingers are back inside, curling and moving rapidly, heel of his palm finally giving you that friction you've been seeking. But it's fast, it's rough, and while you don't say the word that would stop it, you're unsure what's happening to yourself.

"Let go." He tells you, free hand grabbing one of your tits to let his thumb run over your perked up nipple. "You wanted to cum-" he almost mocks you, "so cum." He demands, and that you do.

You don't know what exactly happens, but you know that he doesn't seem to mind it, so it's probably nothing bad.

Wet sounds suddenly echo off the walls as he moves a bit slower, pushes you through your orgasm and straight into another, softer one that doesn't make you almost deaf and blind. It soothes you a little, until the sting of overstimulation makes your hips jump.

You only barely notice his palm soothingly running up and down your thigh now, having let go of your still throbbing cunt as you recover from whatever that was, sheets visibly darkened below you while his hand and forearm are glistening with liquid.

You can see him smile down at you, and that's enough. You don't need to understand anything to just enjoy his affectionate eyes on you.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

You're in the bathtub, when you inspect your wrists, his own hands carefully holding them, thumb running over the red marks left. They'll fade soon, you know that- and it makes you almost sad, looking at them.

"Leather is a bit rough." He hums in thought. "I'll use something softer next time." He offers, moving your wrists closer to his face to kiss the skin there.

"Its fine.." you say quietly, voice echoing off the tiled walls of his bathroom. "I like.. this." You say, and he chuckles.

"Me kissing you, or the marks on your skin?" He wonders, and you shrug, water moving a bit.

"Both." You say, looking up at him from over your shoulder.

"Noted." He jokes, though you can see something sparkle in his eyes. "Though, I gotta say.." he says, moving a bit as the water sloshes around, "...that was quite impressive for a first-timer." He jokes, and you roll your eyes, face turning red.

"I didn't even know what I was doing." You deny, making him laugh openly.

"Well, once you know what you're doing you're gonna send me straight to the moon then." He exaggerates playfully. "That'll be an out-of-body experience!" He tells you, and you just lean back into his chest, shrugging.

"Well, I've got five more days to work on my skills." You proudly say, and he nods quietly.

"Only five?" He teases, and you groan.

"Yeah.." you hum, looking up at him. "Tonight I just wanna.. cuddle?" You ask, and he nods softly down at you, arms wrapping around your shoulders.

"Cuddling it is then." He tells you, reaching over your shoulder to drain the tub of the soapy water.

And true to his word, the rest of the day is in fact spent mostly domestic and without any further mention of any.. adult activities, until a question begins to bother you, as you watch him scroll for something to watch on his TV. "Hey, Jungkook?" You wonder, and he raises his brows, humming a reply to you that shows his peaked interest in what you've got to say. "Isn't it.. gonna be, I don't know.." You mumble, unsure how to phrase it. "How come we haven't had.. sex yet?" You ask, and he looks confused for a moment, before he looks at you, task immediately abandoned at your words.

"I'm not sure if I follow." He jokes. "I'm pretty sure we had sex just a few hours earlier? When you squirted-" He starts but you wave him off like an annoying insect in panic, making him laugh at your shy antics.

"No no no, that's not-" You shakes your head, before you clarify. "That's not- like, proper sex. You know." You try to get him onto the right path, and he leans back into the couch, crossing his arms.

"Ah-" He hums out after a moment of contemplating what you've said, finally processing it correctly. "Okay, I get what you mean now. Though I've gotta correct you-" he says, putting down the remote to the TV for now. "-I don't have to put my dick in you to be able to call it sex." He corrects you in a gentle way, before he uncrosses his arms, turning his body more towards you. "But I have a feeling that's not entirely your point." he continues, and you shrug.

"I don't know how to explain it." You complain. "Like, even if I'm gonna like everything you do this week-" You offer, trying to convey your feelings properly. "-I'm still not gonna be able to.. have that kind of sex with you." You say, and he scrunches up his brows for a second, before he shakes his head.

"Doesn't mean we can't try." He tells you. "Is that something you'd want?" He asks, and you nod. "No, I mean- is that something you'd like to do? Don't just say yes because you think I'll need that from you to feel satisfied. I can think of numerous different ways to get myself off with your help, don't you worry about that." He chuckles, especially when you grow clearly flustered by his blunt way of talking about this entire topic.

"I already know I can't do it." You deflate, averting your eyes. "I told you- it didn't work-" You start, but he shakes his head.

"Just because it didn't work with him, doesn't mean anything." He denies. "There's tons of reasons you weren't able to take him. Maybe actual size, maybe poor preparation, maybe you were too tense, maybe all of it- we'll never truly know." He shrugs his shoulders. "Trust me when I tell you, that if you want to try, I'm gonna make sure I'll use any way I know of to make it as comfortable as I can." He offers, but you don't seem too convinced.

"But you're- like, a lot bigger than him." You say, probably unaware how that fuels Jungkook's ego in secret, as he suppresses a smirk.

"So?" He asks, unable to see your point. "I'm not like him. I actually care about my partner's pleasure together with my own. You'll just have to trust me, and I'll make sure to try any way to make it work." He offers, and after a moment or two, you nod.

"Okay." You say. "I want to.. try then. Like, not right now- but, I don't know. At some point." You nod, and he grins brightly, nodding as well.

"I'll keep it in mind."

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

"You're still awake." He notes as he sits down on the edge of the pulled out sofa, having left his bedroom to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night, and you sigh, admitting it with that reaction. "What's on your mind?" He asks, and you shrug, turning towards him.

It'd be selfish to ask him to sleep in the same bed with you again, right? After all, this week is about sex, and finding out if you're.. physically compatible, so to say. Or maybe not even that. He'd just said he wants to convince you of his ways, not that he'd be with you at the end of this week. Have you lost that out of sight, already?

It's only Tuesday, and you're already somewhat regretting things. It feels weird, like that feeling of disappointment you get when thinking of a past experience or achievement you missed out on because you'd been simply stupid or selfish.

This doesn't mean anything to him. He's just so caring because that's what he's like with everyone he fucks.

"Nothing." You say, refusing to open up to him, and he doesn't know what brought that on. He's not sure what he's supposed to do now- after all, you both agreed to exploring each other on an intimate level, but you didn't actually clarify if you wanted to explore anything romantic either. He doesn't want to overstep a line for you, doesn't want to push anything you wouldn't feel comfortable with.

But at the same time, he can't help but feel like you're constantly reaching out for his heart, though careful, and unsure.

"If it keeps you up at night it's not nothing." He declines your answer, reaching out to adjust one of the pillows so it doesn't hide your face from him. "Tell me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He reminds you, and you stay still for a moment or two, clock on the wall of his open kitchenette ticking the only sound in the apartment for a good while.

"I think I-" You start, unable to finish that sentence how you'd like to.

I think I'm falling in love with you.

"I think I don't want to sleep alone." You instead say out loud, sounding horribly selfish in your own ears. But he just chuckles and nods, patting the blanket you're under.

"Scoot over then." He teases, making you move just like he'd requested, before he sneaks underneath the blanket where you're already warm and cozy. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asks quietly, as you look at him in the darkness of the apartment.

You nod, silently, hoping he sees.

He does- but he doesn't believe in it. There's something on your mind you're not telling him, and he knows he's gonna have to coax it out of you at some point this week, because there's this odd feeling in his chest that suspects, and maybe even hopes, that what he himself is feeling might just be what you're battling with as well.

And he wants to hear you say it.

He wants you to love him.

yandere!nagi x reader, kunigami x reader

summary: when your boyfriend moves to argentina, your leftover life is more bleak than you'd imagined. Nagi's willing to spice it up for you, but he's not about to let your opinion of him get in the way of his own pleasure.

a/n - extremely dub bordering on n0ncon, but nagi is genuinely into you. nagi has a super super strong dacry philia k/ink, like SO strong. he doms but lazily. both nagi and kunigami are genuinely into reader. post blue lock at least a few years. choking, vio lence, threats. manipulation. reader's parents were alcoholics and she's shy and timid, a bit of a pushover if you dont like that then skip it. part one probably. angst, hurt comfort, smut, reader has a panic attack and nagi comforts her so sweet. this is dark content, have an age in your bio to interact minors dni

Nagi remembers the moment he realized you didn’t like him. It’s not the kind of detail he normally notices, and it’s even rarer for something like that to bother him, and while it’s true that it takes the first three months of your contract with his pro team for him to pick up on it, once it’s there the truth is undeniable. Glaring. 

It annoys him, honestly, to watch you stammer your way through an earnest conversation with a fucking benchwarmer like Raichi, and then give Nagi short answers that ensure the conversation doesn’t last longer than it needs to. With him, you’re professional, that’s it. But Barou gets to hear about your weekend, hears you sigh about the plant you just bought, and you’ll even argue with him about the merits of scented cleaning products. It grates on him when it feels compulsory that you scurry over to him during the scrimmage break. 

“Is your ankle okay?” You ask quietly, not drawing the attention of any of the assistant coaches or other players. Maybe this is why it bothered him, you were good, good at your job, good at whatever bullshit ology made you good at reading body movements, predicting mood and injury. You also know that any theatrics about a possible injury could get him benched, that he’d spent the last year jockeying with Barou for the top spot on the team, and a single missed game would be devastating to that goal. 

“Hurts a little.” He says, not bothering to look at you. “Not enough though.” You understand immediately. “Can I find you, after?” You look up at him, surprised. He didn’t seek you out often, and you had plenty of needy visitors, inquiring about gameplay, old injuries, and new ones. You nod noncomittally, confirming his little insecurity, going back to stand behind Barou and one of the defenders. The dark-haired forward turns around and says something to you that makes you laugh nervously. Nagi steams. 

He stares out across the pitch for a moment, ignoring the conversation you’re pulled between, one of the defenders snarls at a midfielder, you try to sidestep but immediately you’re called in as a subject matter expert on the play, on their movements, and he’s not looking or caring as you shrink from the huge men. One of the coaches steps in, practically knocking you out of the line of fire, telling them both to fucking walk it off and play better. 

Your hands tremble, so you shove them in your pockets. It’s not too cold on the indoor pitch, but you hate it, hate being yelled at, hate how they’re so eager to touch you, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the argument. You hate how you feel like you’re the only woman for a square mile, even though in your heart you know there’s someone at the reception desk. Even the other experts the team had hired were men, doctors, and professors of game theory. Your contract was up in two months, you reminded yourself, of course, this would be different without him. 

___

“This is your dream,”  you’d told him, hand still swallows in his. He hums softly, nodding. “I won’t um, if you’re gonna say you shouldn’t go because of me, I’ll tell you off.” Kunigami Rensuke raises a single eyebrow. 

“You, you’re gonna tell me off?” He grins. “I don’t think so.” 

“I will.” You say firmly, rocking up onto your tiptoes. He sighs. The two of you are standing on a little bridge in a suburb of Tokyo, the sun setting brilliantly in front of you, painting everything gold. 

“No I’m uh,” he swallows. “I’m going. For sure. To Argentina.” The lump rises in your throat. “And I know you can’t come with me, so don’t bother. You just started your career here. You literally only moved to Japan a year ago.” You nod, pressing your lips together, and he lets go of your hand, slipping an arm around your waist, and tugging you into his body. 

“When do you leave?” You whisper, with all the breath you can muster. 

“Two weeks.” He confirms, and the tears in your eyes spill over. “C’mere.” He grunts, as if you’re not already inhumanely close, he wraps his arms around you. “A girl like you, I’m sure you’ll have another pro-athlete boyfriend in a matter of hours.” His attempt at humor falls flat, betrayed by the pain in his own voice, the idea of you with anyone else tears at him. You don’t laugh at the joke. 

“Don’t you remember I broke my rule for you?” You say, and he looks down at you as the memory surfaces. 

“Ah, yeah,” he surreptitiously wipes his own eye. “Yeah.” He manages a smile with enormous effort. “Not sure I wanna see you with any of those assholes anyway.” He shakes his head. “Who the fuck am I kidding, I’m gonna have to fight the urge to throttle anyone who touches you.” That does pull a laugh from your lips. “They better behave, on the new team, when they rotate you. If they don’t you can call me.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You wrap your arms around him, settling against his chest. “Let’s just think about right now.” 

“Okay.” He breathes. “Okay.” 

____

For the thousandth time this week, you miss Kunigami. You hadn’t realized how much his hovering presence forced his teammates to behave, to be polite, to not yell back in your face when you gently suggested a change in form. Your hands shake a little harder and you feel your heart race in your chest, barely managing to stave off the panic until the scrimmage ends, and the men thunder to back to their locker room. You were already dying for this contract to end, refusing to quit but lining jobs that would place you squarely back in academia. 

It felt like a failure. It felt like an admission of failure, that everything everyone had ever told you was true. Your legs carry you off the field, and down the hallway, but you don’t make it to your office before you start to cry, pressing yourself against the painted cinderblock wall, pressing your hand over your mouth to quiet the sobs. 

Nagi takes a couple of extra minutes to stretch, trying to reason with himself. What did it matter if you didn’t like him? Why was he even thinking about it, why was it interesting to him what you did, what you thought? He pushes to his feet and stalks off towards the door, wanting to refill his water bottle rather than heading straight to the locker room. He’s standing at the end of the hallway when he hears it, a soft, choked sob. He’s immediately hit with a wave of annoyance, followed by something else. 

He’d reasoned with it. Rationalized it. Even considered bringing it up to the expensive sports therapist that the blue lock participants had been given upon their release from the competitive program a few years ago. All the blood starts to rush below his waist. Some people had weirder things, he reminds himself, and it’s not that his dacryphilia bothered him, it’s that it was inconvenient. Hard to find in porn, even harder to find in a partner, but there was something about the softness and vulnerability of that moment, the way a woman’s lower lip would tremble, the way her face would swell slightly, and the big round tears that would fall from her eyes. Even better if she’d melt into him, let him touch her. He groans, barely keeping the sound inaudible. Everyone had their things. This was just annoying. Inconvenient. He wanted to shower, his body still sweat-slicked from the practice game, his muscles aching, but he’s got a problem now. And the problem is that you’re crying quietly down the hallway and even the sound of it is driving him to insanity. He could try, so what if you didn’t like him, he could try, women loved to be comforted-

“-Oh god,” you breathe, the air hitching in your lungs. “Oh my god, fuck.” You sob for real, the tears flowing freely. You cover your face with your hands, the abject sorrow breaking over you like an ocean wave. Your phone burns in your pocket. You could call him. He’d said you could call him. 

But he hadn’t called. Not since you dropped him off at the airport. Just a text that he’d landed okay, and he hopes you have a good day. Nothing. Complete radio silence. But you could-

Nagi steps around the corner and clears his throat. 

“Oh fuck,” you swear, flattening yourself against the wall. “Please don’t-” He takes a step towards you, no concern readable on his face. 

“What?” He asks, gesturing to all of you. You sniff loudly, wiping your face, sure you won’t be able to hide this from him but trying anyway. 

“Nothing, nothing it’s fine.” You start down the hallway and Nagi closes the distance between you with superhuman speed, taking your arm in one of his massive hands, and stopping you. 

“You’re crying.” He says, “It’s not nothing.” He watches you force an inhale, your lower lip trembling. 

“I just um, it’s hard,” you swallow, “I don’t like to be yelled at.” He nods slowly. “And um,” you wipe your face, “Sorry I just, just break up stuff it’s really not your problem.” He hasn’t released your arm, and he can feel your pulse racing under your skin. 

“Don’t be stupid.” He says, yanking you into his chest, knowing he’s sweaty and gross from practice and not caring. He wraps his arms around you anyway and feels you relax against him. He wonders if you can feel how hard he is and decides he doesn’t care as another little hiccuping sob bubbles out of your mouth, he can feel the vibrations in his chest. “Shhhh,” he breathes, comforting you like you’re an agitated animal. “You really don’t like it when they yell, huh?” You nod. He sighs. “They’re not gonna stop.” 

“I know.” You pull away from him and he almost doesn’t let you do it, he’s so strong, so much stronger than  you, he could- “My rotation’s over in a few months and I’ll do something else.” He balks at that. 

“Why would you do that?” He demands. “You’re good at this.” 

“I’m um,” the lump in your throat goes painful and new tears start to burn in your eyes. “I’m miserable Nagi, I’m so fucking miserable. All you all do is yell at each other, you and Barou spend every game at each other's throats, and all the other players snap at me even when I’m being helpful,” you take a shaky breath, “And, and I’m heartbroken and pathetic all the time, when I get home I’m so tired the only thing I have the energy to do is lie down.” You hide your face again. “You’re all so fucking entitled I don’t, I don’t wanna work with any of you ever again.” You shake your head and he realizes, that the last sentence isn’t a generalization. It’s about him. 

“You don’t like me because you think I’m entitled.” He repeats. 

“You are,” you wipe your face again and try to step away from him, but he immediately closes the distance between you. Your back hits the wall of the hallway. “You’re a trust fund private school kid who was born with a natural athletic gift that took you to the upper echelon of the sport without great effort, someone else had to drag you kicking and screaming into it. If you’re not fucking entertained by the team you’re playing you can only give it half your effort, you seem physically incapable of giving a shit about something.” You shake your head. “I,” you look up at him, and his eyes are dark and cold as he considers. “It’s fine, I’ll finish my rotation and leave.” You take another breath and wipe your face, trying to leave for a third time, and for a third time, he stops you, this time taking you roughly by the arm and pulling you back towards him, then pushing you back against the wall. 

“I seem,” he repeats, “I seem physically incapable of giving a shit, huh?” 

“Nagi,” he hears the fear creeping into your voice. “Come on, just let me-” He shakes his head, noting that the gesture alone is enough to stop you midsentence. He thinks about it for a moment and shakes his head again. 

“Lazy,” he mutters, “Entitled, shit,” he laughs but there’s no joy to the sound. “Yeah, I could see how you’d feel that way. But you’re not crying because you don’t like us.” Your eyes widen a little. “You’re upset because you don’t like it when big men raise their voice to you, huh,” he says, and he takes a half step forward, he’s uncomfortably in your space now. “Don’t like it when we snap back when we yell, betcha it doesn’t even matter if it’s not directed atcha?” You swallow. “That’s what I thought.” His eyes darken. “How many times have you cried on the bus home, on the train, because of us?” You look away. He reaches for you with the hand that isn’t pinning you to the wall, and you flinch when it touches your face. He ignores it, cupping your cheek and wiping at a tear. You swallow again, heart pounding. 

“Nagi, come on I have to go.” You glance down the hallway but know no one is coming, that no one can hear you, and that your office is the only one in this part of the building. He withdraws his hand and brings his fingers to his lips, sucking it gently for a second, and then he cocks his head. 

“No.” He says. “I don’t think you do.” You tug at the arm he’s holding in earnest, and he barely registers it. 

“I am not working right now,” you yank hard to no avail, “I’m sorry I’m not one of your fucking fangirls,” the fear in your blood makes you brave, singing a quiet steady song, “Let me go-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, in a tone of voice you’ve never heard before, and his hand flies to your throat so fast you’re not sure you even see it move. He tightens his grip, holding you against the wall. “You think I give a shit about any of them,” he leans in close to you, as you start to gasp for breath, pulling at his hand and gurgling. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who could be fucking useful,” he spits the words, “And so it doesn’t matter if you don’t like me right now.” He relaxes his grip just enough for you to draw breath as more tears spill over your cheeks. He can’t stop himself, leaning in and kissing them off of you, groaning lightly. “I’ll make you a deal,” he breathes in your ear, causing blood to pool in your cheeks. “You be a good girl for me, and I’ll make them stop. I can make them behave.” You freeze and stop fighting. He relaxes his grip even more, letting you fall to the ground, watching you sputter and gasp, hands flying to your neck, rubbing the raw skin. He watches you, curled at his feet for a beat before squatting down, and patting your head affectionately. 

“You wanna try again, wanna try liking me again?” He asks, softly, knowing the answer. You nod, crying in earnest now. “You don’t wanna go home to your empty apartment.” He says, and it’s not a question. “Come home with me.” You sniff loudly. “You know which car is mine?” You shake your head. “It’s the silver Aston Martin.” He stands. “I’ll unlock it remotely. You get your shit, sit in the front seat and wait for me. Can you handle that?” You nod. He reaches a hand down to you and pulls you to your feet. “Did I scare you?” He says quietly, and you nod again. “Aw,” he cradles you against his chest, he smells like sweat and musk. “M’sorry. It’s hard to piss me off, you oughta be proud of yourself.” 

“I don’t wanna be alone tonight.” You whisper, and he rubs your back. “But don’t do that again, okay?” He shrugs but verbally contradicts the gesture. 

“Yeah, alright.” He hugs you tightly, pressing his face into your neck. “Bring something to wrap my ankle with.” He leaves then, jogging off down the hallway to the showers. You stand there for a few minutes, throat aching, shell-shocked. You float back to your office, taking your back and making your way to the garage with the cars. You find the silver one and at your touch, it unlocks, you sit heavily in the front seat, attempting to take a deep breath. You do something without thinking about it. 

You: hi sorry

You close your eyes, what time was it even in Argentina, would he even look at it? How much would it hurt if he never-

Kunigami: hey what’s with the apology You: I don’t know 

Kunigami: everything okay? I’m on my way to practice, it’s 5AM here. I can call? You: no it’s okay I dont wanna take up too much of your time

You: just wanted to see how you were doing 

Kunigami: yeah alright honestly Kunigami: miss japan, miss you, but the food here kicks ass you’d love it. Kunigami: dream job helps though. I think it’ll be an amazing season. 

You: oh wow!! That’s great to hear Kunigami: what about you, they treating you okay? 

You: ahhhhh

You: it’s probably a lot to text 

Kunigami: so let’s call this weekend and catch up. Plus I think I fucked up my shoulder, you can bill me for the time spent on the phone. Kunigami: stupid question but it’s gonna kill me if I don’t ask Kunigami: have you been dating You: oh god no 

You: I don’t care if that’s embarrassing. Kunigami: thank fucking god it’s been killing me Kunigami: picturing you with anyone else makes me want to put a fist through the wall

You sigh, hands shaking now with relief. 

You: same except it’s throwing myself in the ocean 

Kunigami: this is so fucking hard 

You: yeah

You: Dream job helps though, right? 

Kunigami: sure 

Kunigami: your job still dreamy? 

You: not without you, no. 

Kunigami: listen I’m almost at work, let’s talk this weekend. I missed the fuck out of you. 

You: okay <3 

You steel yourself, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, leaning against the back of the seat in Nagi’s car. He’s another 15 minutes, sliding into the seat with practice, barely reacting to your presence. He presses a button and the engine hums to life, his hair is half-dried, and little tendrils of white cling to his forehead and clump together in his waves. He glances at your phone. 

“Miss your ex?” He says, and you scramble to lock the phone and hide the conversation. He laughs. “Did he used to keep the assholes in line for you?” He asks and you sniff loudly, closing your eyes and leaning against the car seat. 

“I can’t believe you choked me like that.” You mumble, and he shrugs, skillfully backing out of his parking spot and pulling through the garage. 

“You needed it.” 

“I didn’t!” You protest. “I didn’t and you scared me.” That makes him break into a soft smile, as he leaves the private garage it starts to rain. He reaches over and rests a hand on your thigh, rubbing a soft circle in your skin through your tights. 

“Better do everything I say so that I don’t have to scare you again, then, yeah?” He says, and you press your lips together. “Plus,” He shrugs, squeezing your thigh. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t.” You look at him sharply. “Oh,” He says, surprised, “You don’t?” He puts his hand back on the wheel. “I’ll make it worse so that you have to come crying to me.” He shrugs off your shock.  “What?” 

“Really?” You say, turning to him, and the sincerity in your voice knocks the air from his lungs. He’s able to recover in time. 

“Nah, I mean, I could but you’re not gonna make me, right?” He glances to the left and right before carefully making his turn. He puts his hand back on your thigh. “Come on,” he complains, “I’m a good guy, I’m gonna make you feel good, and save you the trouble of drinking alone in your apartment missing a guy who probably isn’t thinking about you.” Your chest aches and you scoot away from him. “Don’t be like that,” he complains, tightening his grip on your thigh, “Come here, like,” he pulls up to a light, and while you wait he arranges you carefully so that you’re leaning against his arm. “Like that.” He says. “See?”

“Mm.” You say softly, so tired from crying, your throat aching, the endless string of bad days has worn you down. You take his huge hand, and he softens. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so hard.” He says quietly. “Did something happen to you, like when you were a kid, dad raise his voice to you too much?” 

“My parents were alcoholics.” You whisper, pressing your face against his warm muscle. “Big tempers on both of them.” He hums softly. 

“You didn’t deserve that.” He rubs the softness of your thigh, delighting in the way you’ve crumbled in front of him. “By the way, I’m uh,” you detect the first traces of vulnerability in his tone. “A little worried about my ankle.” 

“Is that why you lost your temper with me?” You ask, voice barely above the hum of his air conditioner. Summer in Japan is disgusting, humid, and wet, and the rain picks up, hitting his windshield heavily. He shakes his head. 

“I just didn’t want you to go.” 

“And you’re used to getting what you want.” You finish the sentence. He shrugs the apparent insult washing off his back like soap in the shower. 

“I’m gonna make you say you like me,” He turns to you, a smile on his face that you recognize from the soccer pitch. “I’m gonna make you say you respect me,” that makes you laugh, “And I’m gonna make you say you think I’m hardworking,” you giggle, and the sound catches him off guard, “Plus I could tell you’re used to being handled roughly. You dated Kunigami, that guys got some anger issues for sure.” You shake your head. 

“I’m not discussing him with you.” You scoot a bit away from him. 

“Yeah,” Nagi artfully makes a left turn across a multiple-lane street with one hand, watching you watching him. “You think the way I drive is sexy.” 

“I don’t-” 

“You do,” He shrugs, “It’s okay to not like me but still think I’m hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “You’re gonna like me really soon, anyway so it’s not super relevant.” He frowns. “Go back to holding my arm, I like that shit.” You reluctantly cuddle up to him again. “Ankle first though.” He says. “Then I’m gonna make you say all that shit. And you’re staying over.”

“Am I?” You say, and he nods without looking at you. 

“Not like if I decide you’re staying you can leave.” He says, like it’s the most ludicrous 

thing he’s ever heard.   “What are you gonna do?” He rolls his eyes. “Outrun me?” Your hands shake a little and he reaches for them, taking both of them in his hand, releasing your thigh. “Don’t freak out, I’m a good guy. I’ll take good care of you. Betcha Kunigami would like that.” You shudder. 

“He wasn’t big on sharing.” 

“Mm, I’m not either.” He says evenly. “But I’ll earn that, don’t worry. When I’m through

with you, you won’t wanna fuck anyone else. That ginger asshole included.” He pulls up in front of an apartment building and catches the pained look on your face. “Aw, baby’s really heartbroken, huh? Sit tight.” He gets up and walks around the car, opening your door and helping you to your feet. “You look pretty.” He says, opening the door to his apartment building for you. He means it, something about the way you were just a little undone, just a little on edge, endeared you all the more to him. He whisks you up an elevator, watching you avoid eye contact with your reflection in the walls of mirrors. “Whatcha thinking?” He says lowly. 

“I’m trying to decide if you gave me a choice in coming home with you.” You look up at him, and the conflict on your face is genuine. 

“If you’d resisted I guess I would have had to find a way to make you,” he yawns, “But I don’t think it would have been unpleasant for you,” he shrugs, “You don’t date a guy like Kunigami because you’re uncomfortable being roughed around a little” 

“Does it bother you?” You blurt, realizing this is the third time he’s brought up your ex boyfriend. “That I dated him, and I don’t,” you catch yourself, “Didn’t like you.” He snorts at your obvious attempt to cover up the sentiment. 

“First of all, you do like me, you like me a lot, you’re gonna fix up my ankle and then I’m gonna hear you tell me how much you like me over, and over,” the elevator dings and he takes your hand, leading you into a hallway with only two doors, one on each side of it. He takes you down to the one labeled Penthouse A, and it’s hard to contain your reaction when he swings the door open. It’s beautiful, huge, and open concept with a wall of windows, a gigantic slab of marble that makes up the table, and the cabinets are black and gleaming. He grins at your reaction, slipping out of his shoes, and patting your head. “This is why you date first string, dummy.” He hits you lightly on the back of the head before collapsing on the plush leather couch, putting his foot up on his dark wood coffee table. It’s a huge tree stump covered in the varnish that only serves to highlight its natural imperfections in it. It’s a little uneven, and the stack of books on it looks purely decorative and untouched. “Get to work.” He says, and you nod, striding over and kneeling next to him, an action that makes him sit up just a little straighter. You take his foot in two hands, peeling his sock off. 

“It hurt while you were running?” You ask, and he nods. 

“Like a bruise. Soft pain rather than sharp. I can’t believe you noticed I was favoring it.” You nod, giving him a little smile as you press gently, looking for the tendon that was the usual culprit of these kinds of pains. “I was trying to hide it.” 

“I’m an excellent study of movement as well as character,” you straighten your shoulders. “I didn’t see you favor it, I saw you lead with it, which is not really your modus Operandi.” He rolls his eyes. 

“I took Latin, ya know.” 

“Ah yes I’m sure your fancy private school had Latin,” you press softly on his foot, grateful it doesn’t smell like the locker room, “French, Italian-” 

“And English.” He says, a smug smile on his face. “I’ve read Shakespeare.” He leans back. “Some poetry.” 

“Oh,” you look up, “Some poetry huh?” He grins even wider. “Bet that makes the girls swoon.” 

“It does.” He confirms, “What’s up with the ankle though?” 

“You have to rest it, it’s a repetitive stress injury.” You say, and he groans loudly. “If,” you hold up a finger, “If you rest it this weekend you can go to practice on Monday like nothing happened.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Wrap it for me.” He demands. “Then get up here.” You take your time, ensuring that the bandage isn’t too tight, and he sighs when you tuck it in. You climb up onto the couch next to him, and he wraps a huge arm around you, pulling you against his chest. He hums softly. “Actually,” he lifts you by the waist and settles you in his lap, so that you’re straddling him and facing him. He reaches for a throw blanket and tucks it around the two of you, then frowns. 

“What?” You ask. 

“You’re wearing too much.” He yawns. “We’re gonna nap, so go get one of my t-shirts.” He points down the hallway. You hesitate, and his eyes darken. “I don’t wanna have to make you,” he complains, shoving you off of him and standing. “Now you’ve gotta wear one of my jerseys.” 

“Nagi,” you start, and he waves away your words, lumbering down the hallway and returning a few minutes later with one of his extra game jerseys. 

“Is your skin gonna burn,” he says, shoving it at you good-naturedly. If you hadn’t essentially been kidnapped it would almost be cute. “Go change in the bathroom, I’ll see you naked soon enough, I know you’re not ready and I,” he yawns again, “Don’t feel like arguing.” You nod and disappear into his bathroom. It’s just as enormous as the rest of the apartment, even though it’s a guest bath, there’s a full tub and a beautiful sink with lots of counter space. You open his cabinets, generally snooping, finding some generic stale-dated antibiotics and an uncomplex skincare routine. You change quickly, swimming in his jersey when you step back out into the living room. He flicks his chin, some of his hair flopping out his face to look at you. “C’mere,” he grunts, and you obey, letting him fold his huge warm body around yours, “This is my favorite thing.” He sighs, locking his arms around your body, trapping one of your thighs between his. He spoons you, but only after ensuring you’re both covered by the blanket. 

“Hey,” He says quietly. “You’re still shaking a little.” He feels you nod, your face resting on his arm, your back pressed right against his chest. “Not cause you’re cold?” You shake your head. “You hate it when we yell that much?” 

“You don’t yell.” You say quietly. 

“And you still didn’t like me.” He tightens his grip on your waist. “You gotta know I could kick any of their asses.” He grumbles. “And that you’re safe here, right now.” You hesitate but in mind only, nodding outwardly. He kisses the top of your head. “Relax then.” He says, and you close your eyes, nuzzling into him. You’re not sure when you fall asleep, a few minutes before him, but when you wake your face is pressed to his chest, and he’s got one hand in your hair and the other around your waist. You’re warm, and deeply at peace, feeling loved and held for the first time since Kunigami left. He hums needily when you move, holding you in place. “You’re so soft.” He mumbles, and you see a slight flush on his cheeks from how you’re sleeping. He turns you away from him again, reaching under your shirt and palming your chest through your bra. You let out a soft sigh and he presses his cock against your ass with a groan. 

“Nagi,” you breathe, fuck it, fuck it, this was stupid, he was a dick, but he was here, and if he was here you didn’t have to think about work, about Kunigami, about- he cuts off your train of thought by reaching under your bra and pressing a burning kiss to your neck. 

“Like that,” he mumbles, lips moving up the column of your throat, “Sound so desperate when you say my name.” He reaches between your legs, into your panties, “Say it again.” He parts your folds and easily finds your clit, rubbing at it softly. 

“Nagi,” You breathe again, his free hand coming to rest on your throat. “Nagi, I-” He tightens his grip, cutting off your breath completely. You squirm, eyes watering at the pressure, and the mounting pleasure in your body. 

“Desperate,” he grunts, “How bad do you fucking want it?” You gasp, he doesn’t let you have enough air to breathe to respond. “So stupid already,” he tightens his grip and then you feel him push two fingers inside you, “Soaked. Thought you hated me?” You make some kind of noncommittal gurgle and he gives you a break, letting you suck in a sharp quick breath before the pressure returns. He fucks you with his fingers first, scissoring them and watching you gasp and squirm, but when tears prick at your eyes he groans, yanking you roughly underneath him. He tosses his shirt off and pulls his cock from his grey sweatpants. It’s long and thick, matching his sculpted frame, and the tip is a soft pink, leaking a little as he pumps it, running his thumb sover the tip. 

He lets out a short huffy breath as he eases inside you, cupping your teary face with one hand, bracing his weight with the other. Your legs are tossed over his shoulder, and when he leans down to kiss you with surprising tenderness. He watches your eyes shoot open at the stretch, your lips part as he starts to fuck you, leaving you so empty when he withdraws, that you dig your nails into his muscles back. 

He moves slowly, rolling his hips against yours, fucking you lazily, teasing your clit with his hand, bending down to suck and bite at your nipples, delighting in your glassy faraway expression, and he’s almost surprised when you cum, when you clench down on him, walls fluttering. 

“Next time,” he says, growling into your ear. “Ask me. I’ll tell you if you’ve earned that shit.” You whimper in response, you’re soaking, and he can feel it, can feel how badly you need it, can feel the way your nails are digging into his back, can feel you kiss him back when he leans down. “Tell me you like me,” he murmurs, and you squirm. “Tell me how much you like me.” 

__

He leans down and kisses you, blissfully exhausted, draping his body over yours. His hands move to tangle in your hair and his arms lock around you. You sense that he’s about to drift off to sleep, so you start to squirm. 

“What?” He mutters. “Stay still.” 

“I have to pee.” You whisper, and he groans, reluctantly letting you stand on trembling legs and walk to his bathroom. You splash some cold water on your face after washing your hands. You look at your reflection, disheveled, eyes wild, hands shaking. You run your fingers through your hair, the entire experience had been deeply disorienting, did Nagi expect you to come back and cuddle with him? After that, after choking you like that? Your mind flies again to your ex-boyfriend, and then you swallow, feeling the dull pain in your throat. Nagi would let you leave, you decided. As long as he let you leave, that means you had a choice, that means you could think of this as a mistake, as a weak moment. You swallow, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, pressing your palms to the counter, it’s cool and grounding. You straighten your shoulders and step back out into his luxe apartment, sighing with relief when you hear Nagi’s soft snores, see his huge frame draped over the couch. 

You tiptoe past him, stepping back into your clothes gingerly, feeling more and more like this is something you could rationalize. You’re halfway dressed when he opens half an eye, frowning. 

“What are you doing?” He says, glancing at the coffee table where you’ve folded his jersey. 

“Ah, just heading out.” You say, heart rate picking up a little. He raises his eyebrows, standing and stepping back into his boxers. 

“Nah,” He towers over you, it’s impossible not to note the difference in your size, even when he’s a few feet away. “Stay,” He reaches for you, pulling you back into him by the waist. “I’ll order us takeout.” You pull gently but he doesn’t let you go. 

“Nagi,” you say softly, coming back to honesty. “I feel a little weird, about this.” He cocks his head. “Like, weird about us hooking up.” 

“Oh,” He says, as he understands immediately, “Oh,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “Oh of course, of course, you do.” You blink a few times, stunned at his sudden burst of self-awareness. He gives you a soft, genuine smile, “I didn’t mean to like, make you feel used or weird,” he leans down, cupping your face with his hand, stroking your cheek, and your heart drops to your stomach. “It’s not just a hookup to me, don’t worry.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “I get it, you’re a relationship person. I’ll take you to dinner, just nowhere too loud because-” 

“N-nagi,” You stammer his name, genuinely pulling away from him, and he lets you go, confusion flooding his features again. “It’s not that I feel used,” you say, embarrassed as you lose your cool, your voice rising in pitch. “It’s, it’s that you pinned me to the wall by my throat and then, then told me to get in your car and I did, and then we had sex, and I don’t,” you start to get dizzy, the panic pulling you from reality. “Nagi, I, I don’t feel good.” You draw in a shaky breath, suddenly you’re freezing and burning at the same time, face hot body cold, and then they switch. 

“You’re having a panic attack,” you hear him say, but it sounds like his voice is miles above the surface of your mind. You try to swallow, and try to breathe, and find neither is a reflex you have control over, tears burning in your eyes. You barely feel him pick you up, laying you on the couch and lifting your legs in the air, rubbing a soft circle in your calf. “I’m here,” He says, and there’s a raw desperation in his voice as he feels his cock twitch in his pants, but there’s more too it. He feels it, that clawing ache, he wants you to reach for him, to be comforted by him, “I’m here,” he wants to be enough for you, to restore your breath, even though he’s the one with the power to take it away. “I’m here, and I’m real, I’m here for you.”

His voice carries in your panicked state, and your brain struggles to interpret the sentiment behind that information, a statement of a fact, or threat, or reassurance. It takes a few minutes of gasping, but your body, something physical latches onto his presence because when you sit up you reach for him. Something brittle inside Nagi breaks as your little hands fly out and reach for his, as he pulls you into his lap, kissing at your tears. 

“Tough day,” he murmurs, “Lots of yelling, right?” You nod, and he squeezes you. “I’m here, you’re mine now, I’ll take care of ya.” You shiver at his words. 

“I don’t,” you look up at him, “I’m not ready to date really.” Your teeth are chattering, you’re still visibly trembling. He rolls his eyes at you. “I’m s-serious, you have to let me leave.” 

“I mean,” Nagi shrugs. “No I don’t actually, I don’t have to let you leave, and actually,” his grip on you tightens. “You like me, remember?” 

“No-,” you squirm, still half crying. “No I don’t.” 

“Shhhhh,” he rocks you back and forth, “You’re so cute, but you have to breathe okay, just focus on breathing for a little and don’t think so much,” he kisses your head, “Shhhh.” You sniff and focus on breathing. “That’s my girl.” He tips your head up so that you can meet his grey gaze. “So we’re gonna clean you up, I’m gonna order us food from somewhere nice, I’ll take ya out tomorrow, we can go anywhere you want.” He senses your hesitation and leans down, kissing you tenderly on your trembling lips. “C’mon,” you hear him say, speaking right into your mouth, “Kiss me back.” At the moment, you obey, and he hums softly, feeling you move your mouth against his, concocting some kind of pseudo rhythm that your body keeps to much better than your mind does. “I’m here,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck, “I’ll keep ya safe,” he starts to tug your blouse off, and feels you stiffen. “You wanna stop?” He pulls away from you, and you shake your head a little, getting whiplash from the way he suddenly respects your consent. He holds you again. “Okay,” he breathes, “Just breathe for me, I’ll uh,” he laughs, “You did already make me cum, but fuck, seeing you like this, I could go again. You wrap your arms around his neck, making a decision. 

It was nice, nice to be held, and if he would make things easier for you at work, you could figure this out. You could ride whatever this was out until the end of your rotation and then bury yourself in another job. He cradles you to him until your heart rate calms. 

“Jeez,” He laughs lightly, standing while still carrying you in your state of half-dress, walking into the kitchen. He sets you on the counter. “Guess I gotta be careful with you, yeah?” He squeezes your waist before pulling back and wetting a paper towel under warm water. “You want a safe place to land,” he says softly, “That’s okay,” he starts to wipe your face with the warm towel. “We’ll use a safeword, alright?” You swallow. “You just say yellow, if you want me to slow down,” he takes his time wiping your smudged mascara. “You say red if you want me to stop, alright, and I’ll stop,” he pulls away, setting the paper towel on the counter. “And if you really wanna go, you can go, I guess.” 

“You guess?” You whisper. He shrugs. 

“You’re not gonna be the first woman who doesn’t want it from me,” He makes a face, “Not when I can tell how bad you want it.” 

“I didn’t-” 

“I don’t care.” He informs you. “I like you.  You admitted you like me.” You swallow. “Come on,” he mumbles, kissing you softly, and then pulling away, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ve liked you forever. I’ll be nice, I will be.” You nod and he hugs you tightly. “You okay?” He asks and you shiver. 

“No.” You whisper. He nods. 

“Will sitting on the couch with me holding you help, maybe?” He asks, and your chest aches, your heart aches, your throat aches, you’re hurt, and your tired. You nod dumbly. You could do this. Could take advantage of this. Just till your rotation with his team was over. You could make the best of this. He plucks you off the counter and carries you to the couch, letting you cry softly on his chest until you fall asleep. He tangles his fingers in your hair. 

“All mine,” he hums. “All mine.” Your jaw tightens, and you think of the real owner of your heart, at this hour he'd he hard at work at the gym, stretching carefully, talking to his teammates. "Shh," Nagi breathes as he feels you tense up, "Shhhhhh. Relax."

polarity | 01 yandere!jungkook au

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader {f}

genre: yandere

warnings: unhealthy behavior, toxic relationships, cheating, manipulation, mentions of mental health (mc has pretty bad social anxiety )

summary: Your best friend’s new boyfriend becomes infatuated with you..

 Her glossy tinted lips stared back at her, raising her hand to touch up her last bit of makeup. Eunji was gorgeous , not like she needed much to make her stand out. But it wasn’t the good looks you admired about your friend, it was the oozing charisma she carried everywhere. Truly, you thought even if she wasn’t blessed with good looks, she’d still have every guy at her feet. Or anyone for that matter. It was just the aura she possessed. She pulled away from small mirror she had in her hand, raising an eyebrow towards you.

“You’re gonna love him.” She promised, and you shook your head. Eunji had said that about each one of her past boyfriends, but still each one didn’t manage to impress you much. For such a pretty girl, your friend seemed to love complete bums. A shame really.

“As long as you like him..” You trailed off, uncertainty clear in your tone. You two both sat at the corner of a small cafe that was located near your apartment complex, La Belle. The place was slow today, oddly enough but the silence was comforting enough for the both of you. You figured that was soon about to change since you weren’t the type to look forward to meeting strangers.

“Y/n I’m serious, I really like him. He’s perfect in every way.” Eunji insisted, leaning forward against the small table in between you two. “ Plus, he’s really hot.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at your friend’s descriptions. As far as you knew, the guy came from a pretty wealthy background which already meant he wasn’t like the usual guys she went for. He was a bit older too, Eunji never specified his job , just that he worked in the same company as his father. You figured it must of been a family business. 

Keep reading

𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒯

it’s almost rare for the student counsellor to actually give…. counselling. but maybe yuuta’s life will start looking up now that he’s found something to protect.

RETURN TO MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

summary. university / college au. fem reader. yandere nerd yūta. jock yuuji. aged up characters. manipulation. obsession. bullying. violence. unrequited feelings. gojo is student councillor. a little introduction to jujutsu high. this chapter is from yūta’s perspective. wc, 3.8k.

note. first chapter of the series + it’s just getting us started but i’m really excited about this :) most of moving into my apartment is basically done so i’m so happy to finally be able to put more time back into writing again this weekend, enjoy !!!

“bullies, huh? this is unusual.” the pocky between gojo’s teeth crunches as he speaks, swinging the half finished, pink stick around in the air as his long legs stretch over his desk. “you rarely come to me for advice, okkotsu yuuta.”

he’s out of options, yuuta knows that — but still he came here, to the student counsellor, even though he knows he can’t get involved, he can’t help him. it’s made even worse by the fact that they’re apparently related in some twisted, confusing way that he doesn’t care too much about to pry more into. but has he really got anybody else to turn to at this point? he’ll take any advice he can get right now, no matter how useless.

“have you.. ever been bullied?” yuuta’s voice is quiet as he speaks, pulling nervously at the already stretched sleeves of his sweater. it’s a little more oversized than it’s intended to be — probably to do with him fidgeting with the fabric, it was a bad habit. the neckline hangs loose around his collarbones, sleeves covering his hands slightly as he rests at the other side of gojo’s desk.

they pick on that too, the way he dresses — the way he looks. they pick on everything. he’s brought back from his thoughts by gojo snorting at his question, like he’s just told him a joke instead of confided in him.. like it’s not his job to comfort him.

“pffff— course not. i’m too strong and handsome for that.” another crunch from the pocky inbetween the snowy haired counsellors fingers and yuuta feels his eye twitch.

“i thought you were supposed to make me feel better—“ he really was a lousy counsellor. isn’t his job to make students feel better? he’s flippant and doesn’t seem like a teacher but there’s slight moments, where you can see that he cherishes watching after the students, guiding them to be their best despite the way all of this really serves as his own form of entertainment.

but right now, yuuta’s still waiting for that part of him to show.

gojo snorts as he shakes the now empty pocky box in his hand, sighing dramatically when he realises he’s just swallowed the last pink coated stick before he’s pushing himself forward with a pout on his lips. his elbows rest on the desk as his huge figure looms closer, looking over his dark rimmed frames at yuuta before he hums his next words. “but, the problem is your mindset.”

another sigh and the student councillor lazily throws the empty snack packet into the bin on the other side of the room, still managing to make it into the small tin can with frightening accuracy despite the lazy throw. but he looks smug as his long arms stretch to cross behind his head, ruffling the snowy peaks of his hair slightly. “you can’t imagine a stronger future version of yourself. you think this’ll be your fate forever, right?”

the statement makes yuuta shift on his seat, swallowing as his gaze remains on his teacher. he’s gotten his attention now, he can hear his chair squeak as he moves and the tone of his voice is more serious now than the usual playful, aloof air his words normally carry.

“ah, well. it’s not too late for you to change that. maybe find something to protect, hm?” gojo hums the words like the answer is obvious, like this is what he should’ve done all along. the grin on his lips looks accomplished, almost all-knowing and it makes yuuta gape at him slightly as he tries to decipher what that even means.

“but.. what about the—“ he begins, to get a little more— something to help him.. because what does he mean something to protect? like a bodyguard? or… or does he mean something more valuable? but his words are cut off when the looming figure of his councillor pushes himself to stand.

“oh well! don’t you think that was a good session, okkotsu~?” gojo stretches as he speaks, singing his words as he returns to his usual demeanour and yuuta looks as confused as he feels as he stares up at him, wide eyed— like he’s just been beaten by a common enemy when he was only a step away from the final boss.

“w-wait, i—“ his words try to come out all at once as he hurries to stand, almost fumbling slightly with his backpack while he tries to keep his councillors attention. he wasn’t done yet, he still had so much to ask, so much to talk about, he—

“don’t mind, i’ve got faith in you, yuuta. just.. don’t let it get to you, yeah?” gojo’s hand is warm when it rests on yuuta’s shoulder but the force of it is surprising when he’s ushering him towards the door. the expression on his face is annoyingly bright compared to the gloom that coats yuuta, like an aura that’s wrapped around him— his very own personal rain cloud and he feels like he’s suddenly forgotten his umbrella.

“but—“ he tries again but he stumbles with his next step, almost dropping his papers for his next class.

“ahhh~ looks like it’s about my lunch break, sorry about that. remember what i said, hm? give it your best, make sure you get along with everyone.” gojo gives him another grin as he claps his hands together, singing his words like it’s meant as his own little insufferable, motivational cheer.

“ah— but i.. i wasnt….“ yuuta doesn’t manage to finish the remainder of his sentence as the door closes, the latter of his words drifting into nothing more than a unintelligible whisper as his hands fall by his sides “… done.” he sighs as he brushes back his hair from his face, shoulders slumping as his already messed up belongings scatter along the hallway at his feet.

as if the day could get any worse.

but still, he can’t help but continue thinking about gojo’s words despite how little help they serve him right now. he’s still unsure what he meant by that, should he be looking for something? is this supposed to be a game or some weird scavenger hunt… hes never really had much trust in the snowy haired teacher to begin with, but still….

yuuta sighs as he drops to his knees to pick up the pages that have scattered from his notebook, it was already messed up anyway — from his previous run in with the older students who have been picking on him since the year started. the writing is almost faded completely from being flushed, pages crisping and curling as they dry, stuffing it into his bag won’t make much of a difference when it’s already ruined.

but he still manages to push himself to stand as the bell rings.

the walk back to class is as somber as ever, he’s late, albeit not by any fault of his own, but if anything— he’s glad that the hallways are clear and he’s left to mind his own business this time. he wishes he could spend the rest of the school year like this, unbothered… in silence…. left alone. is it really okay for someone like him to even go to school? all he seems to do is cause trouble for others, would anyone notice if he stopped coming?

“okkotsu yuuta, you’re here.” the way the teacher draws out yuuta’s name is sympathetic, pitiful as he knocks politely on the classroom door and she takes in his appearance. he’s disheveled, notes sticking out of his bag in a mess of dyed paper and she’d scold any other student— but not him. not when she looks at him like he’s got enough on his plate already. there’s nothing wrong with him, he was simply a loner, he didn’t need people’s sympathy for that.

but still it’s humiliating, the walk to his desk— third row from the back and his backpack is loud as it hits the floor, followed by the squeak of his seat as he drops into it with an awkward sorry that earns him a few sharp looks from the seats infront. he really wants this day to be over, this class, this week.

yuuta fumbles with his glasses as he takes them out of their case, trying to move quietly albeit clumsily by nature as he quickly tries to keep up with the notes. the teacher nor the class were going to wait for him to stop feeling sorry for himself, so he throws himself into his work— like he always does. it’s why he’s the top student afterall, not that that did anything for his already shaky reputation amongst everyone else. a loner and a nerd…. great.

“psst..” the low sound goes unheard as he scribbles onto the soaked paper of his notepad, pushing back his mused bangs again as focuses on his work. there’s barely ten minutes of class left and he has to make up for the rest he just missed, he could stay during lunch maybe… it’s not like he has plans, he normally ate alone so he should be able to—

“pssst, hey! do you want to borrow my notes?” the call is louder this time but still hushed and despite the day he’s had, yuuta would still recognise your voice anywhere— he’d recognise you anywhere.

you were his classmate.

you’re pretty, really pretty— like the sun, all bright smiles and kindness but you’re well liked, loved really. you’re the girl in the corridor that will always get a wave or a grin from anyone passing by, teacher or student, you’ll stop to chat about people’s day, you know everyone by name— that’s just who you are. you’re popular, friendly, sociable.. you’re everything yuuta isn’t, but you still notice to him, albeit the words exchanged are short and nothing too in-depth but he’s began to savour those fleeting interactions,

and to say he had acquired a crush on you would be… an understatement. it was unavoidable afterall, innocent infatuation was all it was, but you were.. you. you practically have everyone falling at your feet already, he’s no exception.

“o-oh… uh, no it’s fine. i can read these.” his voice cracks when he lets his face lift to meet your gaze and he feels his cheeks burn when you hold him there, smiling at him with such a familiarity that he almost feels his lungs tremble on his next inhale as he suddenly looks away shyly.

yuuta swallows loudly as he tries to busy himself with something else, pulling at the already stretched sleeves of his oversized sweater, sifting through his notes on his desk. you’re still turned round in your seat, fourth from the back and immediately infront of him and he can feel you looking at him.

“but they’re all faded, wait— i have mine right here, you can just give me them back tomorrow or whenever you’re done.” you were so kind, your voice is bright when you speak again, you don’t shy away from interacting with him despite his awkward demeanour, his social skills may be lacking but you still speak to him like you’ve known him for years despite the way you only share a few classes, different majors. you must’ve noticed his notes when he walked into the room, you were considerate like that… observant, you were perfect.

“ah— really, its.. it’s fine.” yuuta still can’t look at you, not without feeling like his heart is going to break out of his ribs and crawl it’s way to you.

“come on, i insist, okkotsu. here you go, they’re right here.” the way you say his name makes his chest squeeze and his cheeks burn. his eyes flutter up to you slightly as you reach forward to grab something from your desk before sliding it onto his, letting him see the class notes that he’s been struggling to catch up on due to his….. meeting with the councillor earlier.

“t-thanks… um, i’ll give them back to you later. it won’t take me long, i can copy them over lunch.” yuuta’s fingertips curl against the paper as he takes it from you, pulling it closer as his drowsy gaze scans the pages— it’s like your handing him a part of yourself.

“no rush, it’s fine!” you giggle as you respond to him and he’s always liked the sound of your laugh, it’s different to his— it’s bright and pretty, it’s beautiful.. it suits you. he pushes his glasses up his nose as he gives you another look, something close to a smile twitches at the corner of his flushed cheeks whenever his eyes lift to meet yours. so instead he chooses to focus on the paper infront of him as he tries to quell his increasing heart rate.. and it does, for a moment.

your writing is really pretty, yuuta doesn’t wonder if you’re watching him now, he’s too transfixed with tracing his finger over the raised paper, following the lines drawn by your hands as he feels something warm and bloom in his chest. you’ve used a bright coloured pen, doodled cutely at the corners, curled your words prettily— it’s exactly how he expected your handwriting to look.

“hm?” you hum curiously and your lashes flutter with your next blink as you look at him kindly.

“ah.. nothing, sorry.. just, thank you.” he hadn’t meant to even speak it at all, so the realisation that he’d said it out loud— infront of you of all people, makes him flush even brighter. yuuta’s cheeks have probably taken a noticeably red tone and if you notice, you don’t say anything— not wanting to point out his discomfort or embarrass him further as he lets his head hang lower in the hopes of hiding it. you were just kind like that. it’s not fair, how was he supposed to not fall in love with you?

love…. was that really what this was?

you offer him a no problem and another smile before you turn back around in your seat again. but he already misses having your attention on him as he fidgets slightly with your notes on his desk.

yuuta’s not sure what takes over him, hes probably still blushing— reeling from your interaction and the fact that you gave him your notes but he decides to try it for himself, to lean forward in your desk and talk to you a little more. there’s still so much more to talk about, to learn from you, even if you could just look at him again. just once.

“um, hey..” his voice still sounds quietly despite the way he’s hyping himself up in his mind, his words have always had a sort of gentle, kind tone compared to his other classmates. the characteristic only seeming to aid him being drowned out in discussions or class conversations until he opts to stop speaking entirely. so you don’t hear him and he finds himself looking around the class to make sure nobody notices before he tries again.

“hey.” yuuta leans closer this time, over his desk as he tries not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. but still— you’re scribbling away in your notebook, half-listening to whatever your desk mate is telling you about and still not noticing him as he breathes out a long, sort of humiliated sigh.

but his next attempt is successful, albeit hard to ignore when he chooses to tap hesitantly on your shoulder before flinching away when you turn to face him. he’s suddenly warm again, but you’re smiling before he can even say anything and suddenly he’s not as confident as he was a second ago.

“sorry, uh— did you finish the homework assignment? i heard you talking with sensei yesterday, that you were having trouble..” yuuta’s learned a lot from your conversations with your friends and teachers, you speak a little loudly afterall. it’s not that he’s listening it’s just.. that he happens to be there, in the corridor or just passing by the open class door. he once read that to be loved is to be known, right? and you’re friends, kinda, even though he may be crushing on you or kinda in love with you but… it’s normal for him to want to know your favourite food and your preferred route to commute home, your favourite breakfast food, your ideal date… that’s what anyone would do for something they like, isn’t it?

his eyes widen as he realises how you might’ve taken what he said, he doesn’t want to lose you, not when you’re finally making progress. “but i—i wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop or anything, i just—“

you don’t comment on yuuta’s fumble, he wonders if you even noticed it when you reply light heartedly, “ah, you heard that? it’s kinda embarrassing but yeah, i just couldn’t figure out one of the questions. have you completed yours?” your elbow rests on his desk as you turn, propping your head up to blink at him and you feel so close he wonders if you’d flinch away if he reached out to touch you.

“yeah.. i— uh, finished mine already.” truth be told, he finished it the day he received it, this was his thing, it was all he had. the homework was easy, although he finds it adorable that you tend to struggle with things like this.. one of your quirks that he’s picked up on… it makes him think as his eyes widen slightly with a dull realisation.

“you’re always so on time, i wish i had your motivation it’s so impressive, okkotsu.” you’re smiling at him again, at him as you lean back in your seat and the look alone almost gives yuuta the confidence he needs to speak his sudden idea into existence as he tries to sit up straighter.

“if…. um,” he begins as he scratches at the back of his neck and you hang onto his words, really listening to him like he has you caught up in a story that you’re so eager to hear the end of, “if you need help, if.. if you want.. i can h-help y—“

“babe!” yuuta’s sentence is drowned out by the sudden call from the doorway to the classroom as it swings open loudly, making you and half of the class jolt in their seats as you whip around to face the source of the sound. it’s followed by a peek of pink, messy hair as itadori leans himself into view, commanding all of the attention in the room despite the way he’s only looking at you with a bright grin.

“i’ll get you here, okay? i got outta practice early!” his hand points to just outside the classroom as he rests his body weight in the doorway. his hair is damp slightly, most likely from a shower in the training room and his team varsity hugs him cozily as he makes himself comfortable staring in at you. it’s almost like he forgets where he is completely until the teacher’s bark from the front of the class brings him back.

“itadori yuuji, get out. you’re not part of this class.”

“sorry, sensei! my bad!” itadori’s reply earns him a few chuckles from your classmates as he raises his arms up to apologise, but it earns him an eye roll from yuuta as he watches him bow before enthusiastically closing the door again.. after giving you another bright smile ofcourse.

itadori yuuji, is captain of the jujutsu sorcerers football team, a sports scholarship student and unfortunately.. your boyfriend. he is charming, he’ll give him that much, he’s handsome too, funny— depending on who you ask but before all that, he’s .. stupid and yuuta hates that about him.

you deserve someone better than that, someone who will take care of you, make a home for you— all your boyfriend has going for him is his muscled frame, insane strength, good connections… but his grades are bad, horrible. that’s why he relies on you to help him study, to make sure he doesn’t get kicked off the team and lose his spot as captain. it’s not fair that he puts so much pressure on you but you just laugh like it’s no big deal, offering him help like he’s not just using you.

sure, he’s never been particularly unkind to him personally.. or anyone at all, but isn’t stealing his love enough to justify his feelings towards him?

what’s even more annoying is you apologise for your boyfriend when the teacher raises an eyebrow in your direction. when you shouldn’t be apologising, itadori’s an idiot but you’re smiling and yuuta hates that. it’s different to the ones you give him, it’s toothier and brighter — like it’s dripping with affection, love, and suddenly you’re desperate to get out of class, to steal another look at your dumb oaf of a boyfriend who’s laugh you can still hear through the door as he jokes with the vice captain, todo. he’s taken your attention from him, stolen it so selfishly.

people always refer to you both as the ‘it couple’ on campus— he hears the whispers, the way people fawn over you both, saying how cute you are, how it’s like something out of a romance manga whenever they see you. you attend all of his games— wearing his jersey, he walks you to class, waits for you after school. don’t you find him annoying? he’s always there, always with you, always holding you—kissing you… don’t you think that’s unfair? what about everyone else, what about him?

you don’t even turn back around to let yuuta finish his question after he was interrupted and the bell rings before he can touch you again to continue it, you’re in such a rush to see itadori that even when you call back a quick see ya, okkotsu! you don’t even stick around to hear him reply as his “y-yeah, see you.” goes lost in the air like smoke.

you barely even look at yuuta as he begins to sort through your notes on his desk, handling them like they’re made of glass— fragile beneath his touch and he wonders if you feel as soft, he wishes he could’ve felt your skin when he reached for you earlier. he doesn’t think it’s fair at all that his crush seems to have one of her own, like he’s the second love interest but not the male lead that gets the girl in the shoujo and he hates it. he hates him.

but somehow, when he goes to slot the paper carefully between the pages of his notepad— his dark gaze is drawn to the curl of your name, the way it’s signed with a scribbled love heart and he finds his fingertips reaching to trace along the pretty letters once more. yuuta’s not sure what prompts it, but suddenly he feels like he’s back in that office again, shifting uncomfortably on his chair at the other side of the counsellors desk as his words echo.

something to protect, right? what’s that if not something to own, something that’s his.

yuuta thinks he may have found that already.

© gojoath. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works. please refrain from copying my layouts / themes.

Ahhh I am such a sucker for hurt + comfort hcs, your sleeping on the couch one gave me CRAZY butterflies 🥰 could I request a hurt/comfort hc of arguing with the character and you unexpectedly start crying/sounding like you just want to give up arguing with Kyotani, Iwaizumi, Ushijima, Tsukki, and Atsumu?

CRYING DURING AN ARGUMENT [HURT + COMFORT]

Kyotani, Ushijima, Tsukishima

a/n: hurt/comfort always gives me butterflies too aksjsjsks. I'm sorry only do three characters per headcanon :( but I'll keep your other characters in mind if I do a part 2! Hope you enjoy love!

(italicized is boys speaking)

warnings: arguing, crying, set in time skip (no spoilers)

Kyotani

You and Kyotani hardly ever fought, mostly because he babies you, but he’d never admit that. That being said, wow was he good at it. He just gets very defensive, which ends up spiraling into an unnecessary argument.

It was just past 1 A.M. and your boyfriend’s yelling was starting to fade into gibberish as other thoughts occupied your mind. You knew that Kyotani could be aggressive, but he was usually so sweet to you, it only made the insults and yelling hurt more. You could only take so much before your emotions overwhelmed you and tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“You’re so mean sometimes tarō,” you whispered trying your best to wipe away the tears that couldn’t seem to stop falling.

Kyotani fell silent as realization washed over his face while he watched you leave the living room and head towards your bedroom, the only sound left in the apartment was your quiet sniffles.

He didn’t mean to take the fight that far, let alone hurt your feelings. He only said those things out of frustration, but he was hoping you knew he didn’t mean them. No one had ever loved him the way you did, and the last thing he wanted was to lose you.

He gave you a couple of minutes before walking into the bedroom to see you laying on the far side of the bed, back facing him. He slotted himself under the blanket without a word and pulled you into his chest.

“I‘m so sorry,” he whispered as he pulled you in tighter. You didn’t give him any reaction, simply staring at the wall in front of you.

“I didn’t mean any of it, baby I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, please don’t leave me” his voice cracking as he tries to get the words out. He finally takes a sigh of relief when you relax into his arms.

“I love you.”

“Love you too tarō,” you mumbled back sleepily. You knew you’d talk it out in the morning, but for now, this was perfect.

Ushijima

Fights with Ushijima were more frustrating than anything else because he always had trouble grasping how much certain things actually affected you. This usually led to him dismissing you, not on purpose but it hurt nonetheless.

It’s been 40 minutes of arguing and you’ve reached your breaking point. He continued to speak as you finally let the hot tears spill down your face. You maintained your eye contact with the ground as your crying intensified, finally catching his attention.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” you mumbled as coherently as you could while your crying started to intensify. You didn’t know if you were crying out of frustration or hurt, probably both, but the tears were there nonetheless.

He rushed to you immediately with panic filling his eyes, pulling you into his chest and holding you tightly. You didn’t fight him, but you don’t hug him back either.

He didn’t realize how insensitive he was being by insisting that there was nothing wrong. The only reason he felt that way was because you were always so perfect for him, how could he have relationship problems with someone as perfect as you?

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t realize,” he said softly as he leaned down to leave a kiss on the top of your head.

You continued crying into his chest as he ran his large hand up and down your back comfortingly, whispering apologies into your hair every few minutes.

“I think we should get some rest and talk about this tomorrow, I know I haven’t been the best lately but I’ll try harder.”

You nodded softly as you wiped away the remaining tears before finally hugging him back.

“Are we okay?”

“Yeah Toshi, we’re okay,” you responded nuzzling your face further into his chest.

Tsukishima

Arguing with Tsukki was the worst because he never realizes the weight of his words until after they’ve come out of his mouth. He often forgets that most people are a bit more sensitive than him, you included.

You could only listen to so much before your tears got the best of you, betraying the cold facade you put up.

“God, I’m so sick of this Tsukki, I’m going for a drive you can finish criticizing everything I do when I get back,” Bitterness was laced in your tone as you grabbed your car keys and wiped your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

Before he could respond you left the apartment and headed towards your car. Your drive was far longer than you anticipated but strangely it helped a great deal. Your crying subsided a few minutes into the drive and soon after you got a text from your boyfriend that read,

I’m sorry. Please drive safe, I love you.

You knew he didn’t intend for his words to be so harsh, you just weren’t used to that behavior from him considering how little you two fought. You took the time to relax and start forgiving him.

You made it back to the apartment 40 minutes later and walked into a worried-looking Tsukki rushing to the door.

“I know I upset you but you could’ve at least texted back, I was worried,” his rambling fading off as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his body.

“I’m sorry for being mean, I have no idea why I said all that. I never want to make you cry,” he uttered the last part shamefully.

“I know.” He felt you nod as you hugged him back for a few minutes before he pulled away.

“I have something for you,” he muttered as his cheeks began to flush. He led you into the living room to find a pile of pillows and blankets on the couch and your favorite fast food on the coffee table.

“I really am sorry.”

You giggled thinking about how frustrated he must have been setting it all up.

“Thank you Kei, I’m sorry too I know I said things I shouldn’t have,” you told him sincerely as you leaned up to peck his lips.

“I love you, brat.”

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! <3

my masterlist

requests are: open

© babydai 2021- do not copy, edit, or repost

Let's Get Physical

WARNINGS: yandere, stalking, possessiveness, nsfw, dub/noncon, non-consenual implications, toxic relationship, implied imprisonment, misogyny, manipulation, gaslighting, depression, anxiety

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER

“Fuck–you tryna break my damn fingers off?” 

“Don’t be a baby. Besides, shouldn’t you be used to this by now?” She rolled her eyes playfully, smiling as her hands worked at his own, stretching his fingers backwards, and pressed her thumbs to his palm.

“Quit grinnin’, creep.” He sat cross-legged in front of her on the floor of his home gym, studying her as she worked. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and she stifled a smirk when he hissed. “Are you sure you even know what a grin is? Can’t say I’ve ever seen you give one.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Still, a smile tugged at his lips, “Y’know, this could constitute abuse of power.”

“It’s called physical therapy, you manchild.” She placed his hand down on his thigh, and picked up the other to start her work, fingers massaging across the palm.

He puffed out his cheeks, “It’s called torture,” Grumbling as he averted his gaze.

“It’s called, Mr. Big Strong Number Two went and snapped his tendons tryna blow up an entire villain army by himself.”

“That’s a funny way a’ sayin’ thank you.”

“If I recall correctly, you were thanked plenty three months ago–when it happened–if your popularity numbers are any indication.” She caught sight of the twist at his lips, and gave a soft smile. “But, I suppose I can stand to add another. Thank you.”

He coughed awkwardly, red dusting his cheeks, “Yeah. Whatever.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, the occasional grunt and hiss interrupting, but not disrupting the peace. She placed his hand down, and went to sort through her gym bag on the floor beside them.

Pulling out a stretch band, she wrapped it around his fingers. He knew the drill by now, and as he began to stretch, brows furrowed as he strained, she let out a happy giggle.

“See! You can hold about three inches further; you’re getting better. Just a few more sessions with me, and a healing quirk can do the rest!” She clapped her hands together, and though he felt like screaming in frustration at the effort it took, when he caught sight of the glimmer in her eyes, he softened, letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go expectin’ a five star Yelp review or somethin’ now.” She caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and a sly smile spread on her lips.

“Weren’t you banned from Yelp after–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Though, the look on his face told her he wasn’t too torn up about the jab.

And the comfortable silence resumed as the clock ticked by. He couldn’t remember when this had become familiar–when she had become familiar.

But he was sure that had he been forced to spend three months straight with any other stranger–or friend, for that matter–he would have thrown himself and them from his penthouse window by now. 

As they went through the motions, some easier than others with his…injury, he found himself sneaking glances at her face. He noticed a lot about her in these past months. Her nose always twitched whenever she’d present him a new technique to try; he’d chalked it up to nerves–cute–cute, that she thought to be nervous, as if he’d fail, he corrected himself. 

And right now, with her shoulders swaying back and forth to an inaudible song as she watched him stretch, he noted comfort, content. Her head bobbed with the motions––little thing never could sit still, could she?--and he found himself fighting a smile. Though, it fell pretty quickly when he saw her glance at the wall clock, and fumble to stuff her equipment into her bag.

“Oh my god, it’s late–I should–Good work today!” She gathered her things, and his brows furrowed as he watched her. There was a twist in his chest as he saw her scramble–where was she going in such a hurry?

“Where ya goin’?” He never was great at poker, but he still cursed himself for the way she furrowed her brows, catching the irritated edge in his voice.

She sighed, brushing it off as his usual grumpiness, “As lovely company as you are, it’s well past our time, and I have another appointment in the morning.”

“Since when?” Logically he knew that he couldn’t be her only client, but to hear her say it ground his nerves. After all, he was sure that it had been just the two of them for a while now.

“It’s always one injury or another. Y’know, for a job that means helping others, you heroes are pretty shit at taking care of yourselves.” She giggled, and while the sound eased his nerves, there was a nagging at the back of his mind.

“Hey, you eaten yet?” He trailed after her into the foyer, and a part of his brain mocked him for how pathetic he must sound–him, of all people, begging some quirkless nobody–no, not nobody, but still–begging her to stay.

She paused, turning to glance at him; a sheepish look washed over her face as she huffed an embarrassed chuckle, hand reaching to scratch at the back of her head. His eyes narrowed, but as he went to take her bag from her shoulder, she pulled from his grip.

“I’m sure I can grab a granola bar or something from the convenience store on my block, don’t worry about–”

“Fuckin’ dumbass, now who’s shit at takin’ care a’ themselves?” He ignored the knit in her brow, and moved towards the kitchen, “I got tons of shit leftover. Sit. Eat.”

She sighed, and brushed him off with another chuckle, “Maybe another time. I really should get some sleep. And so should you–rest helps the healing process. I’ll see you in a few days.”

He watched her for a beat, before deciding. He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. See ya.”

She flashed a smile and a little wave before heading out the door. He waited for a bit after it clicked shut, watching the hands tick by on the clock.

One minute. 

Two.

 Five. 

He shuffled towards his closet, throwing an old hoodie over his head with minimal strain. This isn’t creepy. He reminded himself. Idiot’s gonna get herself killed walkin’ home this late.

His face heated as he pulled up the hood. Wearin’ those spandex shorts–honestly, she was lucky he was a fuckin’ gentleman. He huffed, and headed for the door, following after her with the confidence of a man who had done so too many times before.

.♡.

“Damn, I’m jealous, if I knew all it took for some alone time with a bitch that hot was to snap my tendons–”

“Don’t be fucking gross.” He scoffed, shoving the other blonde, eyebrow twitching at the shit-eating grin his friend flashed. Maybe this was a bad idea; he scanned the men around the breakroom table–fuck, he shoulda just figured it out himself.

The other man raised his hands in mock surrender, “All I’m sayin’, bro, is if I were you, I’d a’ made a move the second a piece of ass that sweet walked itself through my door.” He turned back to the udon in front of him, digging in, broth splashing messily across his face.

He scrunched his nose in disgust, “Yeah, well I ain’t you. I’m not jumpin’ in the pants of the first bitch who opens ‘er legs for me.” He played with his own chopsticks, frustrated with the dismissal.

“Good thing too,” The raven haired man laughed, “Sparky over here’s probably got every disease in the book with the holes he sticks his dick in.” He tossed an arm around the other blonde, whose face twisted in mock hurt. 

“Least I can get it wet, Tape Boy.” The two shoved at each other, laughing, but the click of a tongue brought his attention to the unamused redhead at the end of the table.

“But she isn’t just another hole,” The shark-toothed man’s lip twisted at the last word, “This is the first time you’ve actually liked a chick. You should–”

“Who the fuck says I like her?” One glance at the unimpressed look from his friend had his face heat as he coughed, averting his gaze.

“You haven’t said shit since the incident,” The man began, “And the first thing we hear from you about the whole thing is if we know your physical therapist.”

“She works with heroes; sue me for thinkin’ you idiots might a’ met or somethin’.”

“Okay, but why are you askin’ about her schedule?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, shoving his chair back, “Forget it.” As he went to leave, the other two men jeered.

“Aww, come back! Embrace the feelings, bro!”

“Beautiful. Our little boy’s growin’ up!”

.♡.

He stormed into his office, huffing. Fuck it. If he was gonna be here, he might as well get some paperwork done. He collapsed in his chair, head to his hands as he groaned. The sound of the door opening caught his attention.

“You really need to stop stormin’ outta places before people can respond.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the redhead, and turned to shuffle through the mass of papers on his desk. 

“Yeah, well Tweedle Dumb and Dumber needa learn to keep their damn mouths shut.”

“Ah. They don’t mean any harm,” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “Locker room talk, y’know?”

He scoffed, “What do you want?” Mood soured, his patience was running thin.

“I think I know that client you were talkin’ about–the appointment she had today.”

Now that caught his interest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But yer not gonna like the answer.”

.♡.

Bang! Bang!

“Oi, open up.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“I know you’re here, you bastard. Open the fuck up!”

BANG! BA–

“It’s five in the morning. I was asleep.” The man in question responded as the door creaked open, his red and white hair mussed, and sticking up in odd places.

He rubbed at his eyes, meeting the other’s gaze, much too intense for five in the morning–though, did the word calm ever really exist in the ash blonde’s vocabulary? 

“You break any bones? Strain a muscle? What? ‘Cause from here I can’t see shit wrong with you.”

“I’m confused. Should ‘shit be wrong with me?’” Jesus fucking Christ. He wanted to rip his hair out; there was obtuse, and then there was just plain annoying. In the years he’d known this man, he’d managed to toe the line perfectly. A talent, truly.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “You wouldn’t be hangin’ around my woman if it wasn’t…or you tellin’ me there’s another reason she’s been showin’ up at your door?”

“You have a woman?”

Are you fucking kid–

“I’m kidding.” Coulda fooled him. He met bi-colored eyes, dull as ever, and mouth set in a straight line.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fuckin’ hilarious, now–”

A yawn interrupted him, “I’ve been informed of the situation,” Situation? “Nerve damage. Ice quirks will do that after a while. I apologize if I overstepped in my attempt to keep all my fingers intact.” A couple stiff, discolored digits waved in his face.

Yeah, sarcasm didn’t suit him. “Fuck off.” It was half a joke, but still–

“You showed up at my house.” Okay, he’d had enough. He turned to leave, but the other cleared his throat. “Though, a small piece of advice–”

“Advice?” He was getting angry again, which only flared up as a smirk formed on the other man’s face.

“Poor thing’s convinced she may have a stalker.” Shit. “I’m sure as the Number Two, you’ll be able to make her feel safe, won’t you?” Slimy bastard. 

He huffed, turning away, “Yeah, yeah. Fuck off back to sleep, ya damn space heater, I got it.” There was a hum as the door clicked shut.

He was left with his thoughts as he jogged down the sidewalk–might as well get his morning run in–but, still, why hadn’t she told him about her stalker? I mean…she trusted him, didn’t she? Ugh. This was getting annoying. He needed a plan.

.♡.

“Fuck is that?”

She hissed a bit as she took his hand into her own, palm stinging a bit from underneath its bandage.

“Oh, nothing,” She smiled sheepishly, “It’s what I get for letting my friend talk me into buying one of those fancy reflex hammers.”

At the tilt of his head and furrow of his brow, she clarified, “Real sharp at the tip, ads say that’s what makes it sleek.” She chuckled a bit, and he hummed in response. She watched him for a bit, his jaw flexing a bit in frustration.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today–what, no complaints to lodge?” She giggled, but the furrow in his brow had her creasing her own. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He snapped back to reality, pulling his gaze from where her fingers worked at his hands, “Sorry, just distracted, I guess.”

“That’s alright. What’s going on?”

He sighed, “Stopped by the office the other day–’parently crime’s been shootin’ up all around Japan.”

“And you’re upset you can’t help out yet?”

“‘S fuckin’ frustratin’, being the Number Two, and sittin’ around all day gettin’ massages while there are murderers and rapists and stalkers runnin’ fuckin’ rampant in the streets.”

She swallowed, but tried to neutralize her expression, giving a weary smile, “Oh? Lots of stalkers nowadays?” She focused her gaze back on his hands.

“Been tons a’ reports all over the city–victims are–”

“Victims?” The hiss from his mouth told her she was pressing too hard, “Sorry, sorry! Just…it’s all a bit scary isn’t it? And victims usually means…” She released his hand to sort through her bag, picking through the equipment, handing him a grip strengthener, and turned her gaze to meet his own.

“Nah, ‘s not your fault; I shouldn’t be freakin’ you out with all the details–”

“No! I mean, no. It’s okay. I want–I mean, I’m curious–what are the details?”

He gave her a look, and she cursed herself for her slip up. In the months she’d known this man, she’d realized he was one of the most annoyingly observant people she’d ever met, and while she usually found his borderline anal attention to detail endearing, she’d really hoped to keep this from him–he had more than enough on his plate already–to make him worry over someone like her would be selfish.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yer actin’ like you’re bein’ stalked or some shit.” Fuck. Did he have some second quirk? Could he read minds?

“What? No, I’m not. I’m just…curious.” Yeah. Thank god she hadn’t gone into acting. At the unimpressed quirk of his brow she sighed, “I mean…It’s probably nothing, I’m sure I’m just–I’m just paranoid or something.”

“What the fuck? And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s probably nothing!  And..well, you’re so busy–recovery, and tryna get back in the field so you can…I just didn’t want to bother you.” She took a piece of hair in her hands, twirling and tugging as she avoided his gaze. “It’d be unprofessional of me to–”

“You gotta report that shit, dumbass!” The grip strengthener creaked with the strength at which his hand clutched at it. “‘’Sides, it’s not botherin’ me,'' Her cheeks colored, “It’s my job.” Oh. Right.

She wrapped another contraption around his fingers, gesturing for him to stretch as she took the other from his grip, “I’ve got it covered. Promise,” She sighed, “And I did report it, I just figured you had enough on your plate. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m walkin’ you home,”  She opened her mouth to protest, “Shut the fuck up. I ain’t askin’.” 

She sighed, but nodded,“Okay.” Her chest warmed a bit as a small smile pulled at her lips.

And the silence resumed, tense, but not with awkward or anxious energy, she realized. She snuck a few glances at him throughout the rest of their session. He really was a good man, wasn’t he? And, catching sight of the sharp curve of his jaw–handsome, too.

She chided herself for thinking so, but really–what was the harm in thoughts?--it was simply an observation, nothing more.

.♡. 

“It’s fuckin’ efficient. ‘Nuf said.”

“It’s fuckin’ geriatric is what it is.” She laughed, “What twenty-six year old goes to sleep at eight p.m.?” She craned her head up to catch sight of the red dusting his cheeks as they walked down the street.

“Call me geriatric all you want, but don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re fifty and yer face is saggin’ cause you never got a good night’s sleep.” She gasped, hitting him lightly on the shoulder as a smile tugged at his lips.

“You should know better than to call a woman wrinkly.”

“Good advice. Lemme know when you see one.”

She smacked his arm again as the two of them laughed, settling once she caught sight of the setting sun. “Thank you. For walking me home; it really–I mean, it’s–”

“Stop thankin’ me for givin’ a shit about you, you fuckin’ creep,” Her cheeks colored as she avoided his gaze, and he sighed, ruffling her hair a bit, “‘Sides, someone’s gotta look out for you; you’re sure as hell not gonna do it for yourself.”

She gasped in mock offense, “I’ll have you know, when I was younger, I was a certified blue belt in my–”

“Isn’t that really fuckin’ low?”

“Shut up,” They laughed lightly, and she turned to him as they came upon her doorstep. “Well, this is me.”

There was an awkward pause, and he coughed lightly, avoiding her gaze, “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll see ya–”

“You wanna come in?” She surprised herself with the words, but the red coloring his cheeks warmed her chest and eased her nerves. This was fine. They were friends.

“You sure?” Despite all the rumors and all the gossip, he really was a gentleman. Well, she’d come to know that these past months, but like this was an entirely different matter. She wasn’t quite sure why, though.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t eaten yet–figured you might wanna hang out and yell at me for a bit about it.” She laughed lightly, pushing the keys into the lock, and brushed her hair from her eyes.

“I’ll do you one better.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ll cook you dinner, and yell at you about it.” She opened her mouth, but a devious smirk spread across his face, “‘Less yer one of those losers with an empty fridge, and cabinet full a’ junk.”

She pushed the door open, “How dare you,” She flashed a cheeky smile as she led him inside, “Instant ramen is the food of the gods.”

.♡.

“You need to be more careful!” She chided as she wiped at the cut on his face, “You’ve only been back in the field for a month, you can’t just–”

A hiss interrupted her, and she pulled the alcoholic wipe away from his cheek as he sighed, “You rather I let a building fall on a buncha kids?”

She rolled her eyes, but resumed her work, “No. But, I’d rather you have at least an ounce of self-preservation–besides, I’m not sure how many wraps and casts and wipes we’ve got left in the budget.”

A sly smirk spread on his face, “Oh. I see,” He readjusted her in his lap as she wiped at his wounds, “Yer in physical therapist mode right now, huh? And here I thought my girl might actually be worried about me for a second.”

She smacked lightly at his arm, setting down her wipes to peck at his cheek, “I can be in physical therapist mode and girlfriend mode when it means you’ve gone off and gotten yourself hurt again.”

She rolled off his lap, tossing the bloody tissues in the trash as he trailed after her into the bathroom. She opened the cabinets, bending over to sort through the shelves. He grabbed her by the hips, and she shoved him off playfully.

“Not now, horny. I’m looking for a wrap.”

“Ah. Think we’re out.”

She stood, smacking him lightly, “See! What was I just saying?”

“I’ll head to the store in the morning, just come to bed,” He groaned, turning her in his arms, “‘M tired.”

She gave him a skeptical look before glancing down briefly, “I think your little friend may disagree.”

“Who you callin’ little?” His hands snaked down, pinching at the swell in her ass as she squealed, pushing out of his arms, and trailed into the bedroom. She glanced around, stopping once she spotted his closet door.

“Hey, where ya goin’?” He stalked after her.

“I don’t trust you. I’m gonna check for more first aid supplies.” She walked towards the closet, and, following her gaze, he pulled her by the wrist, bouncing her backwards onto the bed. She yelped as he collapsed on top of her, “What the hell? Get off! I can’t–can’t breathe–”

“Nah. Like I said, ‘m tired.”

She giggled out his name, trying to push the hulking mass off of her, “I’m serious! You’re–you’re hurt, we need to take care of–”

“We need to take care a’... what was it you said? My little friend?” One of his hands worked its way up her shirt as he readjusted them on the bed, “Only thing that’s hurtin’ right now is my ego…little, I should take you over my damn knee for that, y’know.” 

She laughed, sighing as his fingers made their way under her bra, “You’re so—you’re such a baby.”

“Oh yeah?” His thumb swirled her nipple as he smirked. Legs thrown over his shoulders, she looked up at him between half-lidded eyes while he worked off her shirt.

“Yeah.” She let out a breath as a tingling in her gut started to form. His canines grazed her neck, tongue flicking out to lick a stripe up the warm flesh.

“We’ll see about that.” He bit down, chuckling deeply at the whimper forced from her lips.

.♡. 

“Please–please–I don’t–I think someone’s here, I’m sorry to–to call you, but–”

“Stay right fuckin’ there. I’ll be there in five.”

“I’m–It’s pretty far, are you sure–”

“I can run. Stay on the–” She pressed the end button as at the sound of a bang–a door kicked open. The coat closet maybe? That means they were close. Too close. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, eyes squeezing shut, reopening with fresh, hot tears. 

Slow and steady, the sound of footfall was creaking down the wooden expanse of her hallway. Headed towards her, she realized. No. Please. She clutched her hand to her face, fingers pinching her nose to quiet the sounds of her breathing. This was it, wasn’t it? This was–

BANG! 

And then a frenzy of footsteps, crazed and seemingly unaware of their destination filled her ears. A shout. A shout? Wait…was that–but still, she didn’t dare breathe. Not until–

“Where the fuck are you?” The sound of her name being growled from a familiar baritone brought her back to reality, and she shakily pushed the door to the closet open from her place curled up on the floor.

“He–Here. I’m–I’m here.” The edge of her voice was cracking with tears as he pushed into the room, kneeling in front of her collapsed form. He gathered her in his arms, and the dam broke, snot and tears staining the soft polyester of his shirt as he carried her to the bed.

“Dumbass–scared the shit outta me–I told you to stay on the fucking–”

“Sorry–I’m sorry. I’m–I was just–I’m sorry…” She balled the fabric of his shirt in her fists as she sobbed. A large hand came to pet her hair, soothing her as it pulled the wet strands from her face, and tucked them behind her ear.

“S’ okay. I know. I’m here–you’re okay.” He sighed, burying his nose into her hair, taking a breath as his other arm soothed at her back. She sighed, gathering herself as she pushed a little bit out of his arms to meet his eyes.

“I–I just got home and–and all my drawers–they were open, and so I…” She sighed shakily, swallowing her tears, “Some of my clothes–my underwear–it’s gone, I–it’s getting worse, they’ve never–not until today–never come inside.” Her eyes shifted, “Well…I don’t think they have, but that’s…”

“That’s it,” She looked up at him, caught off guard a bit by the edge in his voice, “This shit is getting ridiculous. Yer movin’ in.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but a sharp look from crimson eyes killed the words in her throat. He sighed, readjusting her in his lap, taking her face in his hand as he pressed a peck to her jaw.

“I don’t wanna–I don’t wanna force ya, but shit, babe, this is…” He sighed, “‘M not always gonna be nearby on patrol, and if somethin’ happened to you, I’d never fuckin’ forgive myself. Even tonight–motherfucker got away from me.”

“I know,” She sagged, wrapping her arms around his middle, sighing, “I just…I feel so–this isn’t what you signed up for–I don’t want to be a burden to–”

“Shut the fuck up,” She jumped a bit, and his fingers spidered down her back in placation, “Sorry. Just…yer not a damn burden. I fuckin’...” She looked up to see red crawling up his neck and color his cheeks as he avoided her gaze, “I fuckin’ love you.”

He looked down at her now, and her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity burning in his eyes.

She felt heat crawl up her own cheeks, and a smile pulled at her lips despite herself–despite the situation, “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said I fuckin’--demon woman, fuck you.” He scoffed, but the hand at her back didn’t stop its ministrations, even as she giggled.

“No, I’m serious. I didn’t–I didn’t hear you, can’t you–ah!” He rolled them over, collapsing on top of her on the bed.

“Sorry. Can’t remember.” His hands trailed up her sides, and she began to squeal, laughing.

“Stop–Stop! Too–Too ticklish–please!” 

“Huh? What was that?” She shrieked, trying and failing to wiggle from beneath his assault on her sides.

“I said–I said I–I love you!” He stopped his torture, smirking down at her as she caught her breath.

“Damn right.” He dipped down, pecking her lips.

.♡.  

“And you’re sure it’s alright?”

“For the four hundredth time, yes. It’s more than fine; I’m the one who fuckin’ offered.”

She rocked back and forth on her heels in the elevator, various boxes and suitcases littered around the two of them as they headed for the penthouse floor. “I know, it’s just…”

“Stop that–I know that face; you’re fuckin’ fine–I love you. I want you here, you idiot.”

She sighed, nodding to herself as she watched the floors climb on the wall of the elevator. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I love you too.” Internally she calmed; it would be nice to sleep without waking up every hour paranoid that she’d heard the snap of a camera.

The sound of a ding pulled her from her thoughts, and she readjusted the boxes in her arms as the doors slid open, and the two made their way into the penthouse living room. She caught sight of the floor to ceiling windows, and set down her things while he worked to unpack. He nodded towards the bedroom.

“You’ve been here plenty a’ times. Feel free to take a shower or somethin’, and I’ll start on dinner. We’ll unpack as we go.”

She nodded, sending one more glance back to the expanse of skyline beneath her, finding that no matter how familiar she was with the view, her legs would never fail to shake with anxiety at the sight of the clouds hugging the edges of the buildings, obscuring her view of the bottom–of the rest of the world. She turned to head towards the bedroom.

“Gotta spare towel an’ shit for ya in there!” He called after her as she disappeared behind the door before he set her things down, heading for the open-floor kitchen. 

.♡.  

She stepped out of the shower, tightly wrapping a towel around herself, and swiped away at the condensed water clinging to the mirror to catch sight of her own reflection. She sighed, nodding to herself; this was fine. They loved each other–who cares that they’d only been together a couple months–they’d known each other longer; that had to count for something, right?

She groaned, moving into the bedroom to search for her clothes. Oh. Right. She thought to call for him, but, peeking out the crack in the door, found him, brows furrowed, chopping furiously at onions in the kitchen. Cute. She scanned the room, finding his closet door, and decided to search through his own clothes–he liked to give her shirts to wear, anyways.

She opened the door, stepping inside the large walk-in, and sifted through his drawers, pulling on a pair of boxers. She glanced around in search of a comfortable shirt, eyes catching on a small door–almost a cabinet–hidden on the back wall behind the racks. How curious. She kneeled down, and moved to open it, but–

“The fuck are you doin’?”

She yelped, hitting her head on the rack, hissing, and turned to face him, a sheepish look washing over her face, “Oh! Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to pry, I just–”

“I told ya I set shit out for ya.” The agitation in his voice set a strange feeling alight in her mind, but she brushed it off as his usual obsessive-compulsive nature. 

She rubbed at her head, half-sheepish, half soothing the pain, and smiled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything out there. I didn’t mean to snoop. Really.”

He studied her for a moment, but huffed, and gestured with his eyes to follow him into the bedroom. He glanced around, finding folded up clothes fallen half-way beneath the bed on the dark-wood floor. He kneeled, picking them up, and handed her the shirt, moving into his closet to return the rest.

“Musta fallen off the bed. Sorry.” His voice was a bit muffled by the distance, “Didn’t mean to freak out on ya. Been meanin’ to seal that shit up for a while now. Damn rats keep gettin’ in.” 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for not asking you.” She threw the black skull shirt over her head as he returned, shutting the closet door. “I know how you feel about your privacy, so…”

“Yeah. Yer fine,” He moved closer, kissing the crown of her head, “Dinner’s almost ready. ‘M fuckin’ beat. Let’s start unpacking tomorrow.”

.♡. 

“And there’s nothing? Not one clue?” She folded up her clothes in the bedroom’s new wardrobe. He’d told her that the closet was being renovated to fit the two of them, providing her an expensive but temporary solution. 

“‘M just as frustrated as you, babe. How do you think I feel, bein’ a top hero and still not bein’ able to protect my girl.” He huffed, handing her articles of clothing from a half-unpacked box as they talked.

“You’ve done more than protect me; it’s not your fault,” She sighed, fingers flexing, tightening subconsciously on the shirt she was holding, “I just…”

“I know, and…” He clicked his tongue, scanning her, “Yer not gonna like what I haveta say next.”

She swallowed, and he watched her throat bob, steeling his nerves. He was so close. He set the box aside, gesturing for her to join him on the bed. She sat herself in his lap, and he brushed her hair from her face, sighing, avoiding her gaze for good measure. Really draw it out.

“I think you should quit yer job.”

“What? Why would I–”

“Just fer now,” His hand soothed at her thigh, “‘An’ I can take care a’ things. Just ‘til shit dies down.” Yeah. That sounds good. And if shit just happens not to die down…Well, he was more than happy to provide.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any clues.”

Sometimes he wished he was attracted to dumber women. She pushed off his lap, and resumed her work, stuffing clothes inside the drawers with renewed anger.

He realized he didn’t appreciate her anger–did she not realize he was trying to keep her safe? It’s fine. He could fix that. He stood, hand to her shoulder to turn her, and calm her.

“Not any solid ones, but,” His eyes shifted, searching for the words, “Yer always comin’ back late–by yourself–if they found where you were livin’--you think they don’t know where yer workin’?” It was a bit hard not to revel for a bit in the irony–made him feel powerful–but it also made him realize just how weak she was, how unaware, how fragile. 

“Well…they haven’t followed me here.”

“Cause this place is maximum fuckin’ security,” He smirked, chest puffing a bit as a sort of sick pride bloomed in his chest,“‘Sides, ain’t no one’s messin’ with the Number Two. Heh. Love to see ‘em try.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing his hand from her shoulder, and made her way to the living room to retrieve another box, “I’m glad you’re feeling safe.” Okay, fine. Probably not the best time to be peacocking, but really, would a pat on the back kill her?

“That ain’t what I meant. Hey,” He trailed after her, “‘M serious. Sue me fer wantin’ you alive.”

She swallowed, avoiding her eyes. Whatever. He sighed internally. He really didn’t like scaring her. But honestly, she needed to learn: he was going to get his way–this was for her own good. He’d seen so much death and destruction in his short life, so much pain and suffering and–nevermind that–he would make sure she didn’t have to, no matter what she had to say about it.

“Hey,” His voice softened as he approached her, “Just…just promise you’ll think about it, alright?” He brought a hand to her cheek, and she leaned in, sighing.

She nodded, “Alright.”

.♡. 

Ring ring!  Ring ring!  Ring ri–

Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail for–

“Shit. Please. Come on…”

Ring ring! 

“Come on, come on.”

Ring ring! 

“Answer. Answer. Please answer.”

Ring ri–

Your call has been for–

“Shit!” She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting side to side, and glanced over her shoulder as she sped down the dimly lit sidewalk.

Just her luck, she thought. Take on a new client, you said. It’ll be fine, you said. Who cares that they live in the middle of goddamn nowhere? The trains will still be running; it won’t be too late. Idiot. 

She huffed, heart threatening to beat out of her chest; every shifting shadow was a threat; every kick of a stray rock, every honk of a distant car horn–everything–was sending lightning through her nerves, blood roaring so loudly in her ears she could barely hear herself think. 

The fall of a raindrop on her nose had her jump, though she began to groan as the pitter-patter of rainfall filled the streets. But then—

“You look lost, pretty girl.” A deep, distorted chuckle cut through her resolve as if it were made of ribbons, and her legs sprung forward before she could think to turn around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Not now; please not now.

Running frantically and without direction, she turned left then right then left then right then right again, lungs burning, and tears obscuring her vision, not knowing if her breath and voice were stolen by exertion or terror or both.

She slowed once she gathered herself enough to take in her surroundings. Where was she? And then, interrupting her thoughts, a slow, heavy footfall, too casual, too comfortable, started to make its way towards her.

“It’s rude to ignore people, you know,” No. Fuck. Left? Right? Where was home? Where was–“Hey, I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, bitch.”

Fuck it. Left it was. Her gym bag jostled on her shoulder, a stray, initialed gym towel flying from the partially opened side-compartment into the wind behind her as she took off. 

“Hey! Get the fuck back here!” 

She turned briefly over her shoulder to catch sight of the figure–dressed in all black, head to toe–and let out a cry, pushing forward again, “Please! Leave me alone! I don’t know–I don’t know what you want from me!” Right.

There was that ugly laugh again, closer than before, and she willed her burning legs and lungs forward. Left. Back on the main road, good.

“Aww, I just wanna talk is all. What,” The voice turned darker, “You don’t wanna talk?”

Terrifying implications aside, she was nearly annoyed with him–him?--annoyed with what little effort he seemed to put into hunting her like some animal, not having even broken a sweat in his pursuit. She tossed her gym bag from her shoulder, hitting him square in the face, running with renewed vigor.

“Ah-Fuck! Bitch!”

She turned down another alley; maybe she could throw him off her trail. Fuck it. Turning again and again and again until she could no longer hear the sounds of wet shoes slapping the pavement behind her. She looked over her shoulder: nothing. Looking left, looking right: nothing. Only the sound of rainshower pouring down as if angry in and of itself. Join the club.

The quiet was nearly unsettling, but she forced a sigh from her lungs, deciding to stealthily find her way out of the maze she’d created for herself without alerting her predator. Which way was it now? Ugh. Maybe…that way? She turned–

Slam!

Her face hit a brick wall–no–her face hit a warm chest as hard as a brick wall. Fuck. This was it. She was going to die, right? She didn’t want to die. She swallowed, chest tightening, and nausea building, but–

“Holy shit! You’re fuckin’ freezing!”

She looked up to find scarlet eyes wide with worry, his large hands rubbed up and down her freezing wet arms, soothing the hairs stood on end. She let out a shaky sigh as she studied his face, half in disbelief and half in sheer relief. Though, her brow furrowed, shaking her head a bit in confusion upon spotting the pink strap of her gym bag hanging loosely from his shoulder.

“What–Where did you find that?”

“Huh?”

“My bag. Where did you find my bag?” She was getting agitated. This was paranoia, right? She pulled from his grip, noting the slight narrowing of his eyes before they returned to their previous concern. Was she imagining things? He put his hands up in surrender.

“Woah, chill, chill! I was out fuckin’ lookin’ for you. Left my phone at home while I was on my run, just got yer messages when I came back, and sprinted fer my fuckin’ life into the pourin’ rain tryna find you. I just found the damn thing abandoned on the side a’ the road.”

He sighed, taking a wet and matted strand of her hair from her cheek, brushing it behind her ear, “Yer gonna send me to an early fuckin’ grave y’know. When I saw it layin’ there on the street, I thought…” He swallowed, avoiding her gaze, voice cracking, “I thought you were…”

How cruel she was. To throw such accusations. She fell into his arms, out of guilt or adoration, she didn’t know, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–I keep making you worry, and–I just–I was so…” Her voice left her, sobs overtaking her body.

He comforted her in his embrace while the rain poured down around them, sticking their hair to their faces and clothes to their skin, stray raindrops catching on their eyelashes as they pulled away to find each other’s gazes. 

And, with tears and rain mixing on their cheeks, he brought his lips to her own, breath warming her cold lips before she pushed forward, arms tangling in his hair as his own locked around her waist, tight and close and safe. Safe. A shared thought between them, though, with two entirely different meanings.

.♡. 

“Gotta call the Commission. Had half the damn city out searchin’ for ya.” His thumb swiped over her cheek, eyes giving her a once-over–freshly showered with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, teacup steaming in her hands as she sat, in her silk pajamas and fuzzy socks, curled up on the living room couch.

She nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead before excusing himself. The murmur of the sugary-sweet, altogether too happy movie he’d put on faded to the background as she turned to watch the skyline beneath her, a gray film obscuring the warm yellows and oranges that glowed in the distance. 

She sighed, mentally kicking herself for her stubbornness. He had warned her this may happen. And because of her arrogance, Japan’s best heroes were wasting their time searching for her when they had much more important things to be doing–real problems to deal with. How selfish. She huffed, swiping away a stray tear, and turned to smile at him as he returned.

“Yeah yeah. I owe ya one. Now fuck off, would you?” Ending the call, he fell into the seat beside her, hand rubbing down his face, exhausted. That’s your fault. 

She sighed, “Is everything okay?”

He looked at her, giving a weary smile, and her chest burned, “Mm. All good. We should be worryin’ about you, dumbass.” No, we shouldn’t.

She swallowed, scooching closer to him on her couch, “I was–I think that,” she huffed, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest, “You were right. I’ll–if it’s still alright, I can stop working for a bit. So you don’t have to worry–to worry about me too much.” 

Her cheeks burned in shame as she avoided his gaze, but the palm of his hand turned her face towards him. She nearly jumped at the emotion glowing in his eyes, burning with an intensity she’d not fully seen before, eyes locked on her own, yet, hollow, as if he wasn’t really looking at her. Through her? No…

“Fuck yeah, it’s alright. C’mere,” He pulled her into his lap, and she realized what it reminded her of, as he regarded her with the sheer glee a child would show upon receiving a new toy, admiring her like some possession. No. Maybe he was just getting worked up–that must be it. The day had been stressful, right?

He began pressing hot, wet kisses to her neck, “Just stick with me. I’ll keep ya safe, baby. Promise.” His teeth grazed up her flesh, and she felt goosebumps start to form.

She nodded, cheeks burning in embarrassment at her growing dependency, but the feel of his hand under her shirt brought her back to reality.

“Oh–oh. I was–I don’t know if…” She was tired. So tired. Her limbs and mind weighed with growing self-disgust and an increasing sense of helplessness. The last thing she felt right now was sexy.

“Lie down for me.” He flipped her on her back before she could answer, working off her shirt, and his hands pulled at the waistband of her shorts. He kissed down her sternum, leaving small bite shaped bruises in his path.

She called his name, hand to his shoulder, not pushing, but stiff, “Maybe we should–I’m not really–” He hooked his fingers into the side of her underwear and something jumped a bit in her chest. Fear. It couldn’t be fear.

He sat up as he peeled off the last of her clothes, “Fuck. You keep scarin’ me and scarin’ me…might gimme a fuckin’ heart attack one day.” He wasn’t looking at her, arms wrapping around her thighs to pull her legs around his hips. She squealed a bit as she was dragged further down, but didn’t protest.

She fell silent, he just loved her is all, this was fine. Didn’t she owe him at least this? Still, the thought didn’t sit right in some near-forgotten part of her mind.

He ripped off his shirt, defined abs and arms flexing in the moonlight before bringing his thumb to swirl at her clit, smirking when her hips jumped from the stimulation, muscles flexing and unflexing. She took her lip between her teeth, eyes slowly losing focus.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s hot.” He took two of his calloused fingers into his mouth, tongue flicking out to wet the digits, drool dripping as they popped from his lips. Moving down to play at her lower lips, they forced themselves into her without warning.

She winced a bit at the stretch, but the roll of his thumb over her clit eased the burn. She tried to rationalize the situation in her mind. They’d had sex so many times before, why was this any different?

She swallowed as the knot built, thoughts flying from her brain as her legs tensed and shuddered against his hips, walls tightening around his fingers. Closer and closer. He sped his motions, rubbing furiously at her swollen bud. She began to tremble in anticipation, whimpers turning to open mouthed moans, head thrown back.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?”

An alarm went off in her brain.

“You look lost, pretty girl.”

But it was too late, his fingers curled and pumped into her, hitting a spot that had her melting, and her eyelids and pussy fluttered in gratification as her eyes crossed, vision going white. 

When she came down from her high, he was pulling her to her feet, and towards the windows.

But, “What did–what did you just call me?” It came out quietly, meekly, and she briefly wondered if that was really her voice. 

She shivered at the sheer intensity with which he regarded her, either not hearing, or ignoring her question altogether. He spun her around, and gripped her hips harshly, pulling them towards him, forcing her to arch her back. Face and hands pressed to the glass, she breathed his name as he worked his cock from his boxers.

Why wasn’t he listening?

“You don’t gotta worry about nothin’ from now on,” He sighed, sliding his cock between her folds, gathering the wetness, and huffed a low chuckle, “‘Cept sittin’ pretty at home, an’ keepin’ my cock warm in bed. Sound good, baby?”

She was used to dirty talk, but this was…strange, “What are–”

On hand caught her hair between his fingers, tugging at the roots as he leaned forward, breath wet and hot in her ear.

“‘Sit here all safe and sweet for me, yeah?” The hand tightened, and she felt a few strands ripped loose.

“Ah—it hurts, I—”

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

“Yeah—Yes. Yes, but—”

His cockhead breached her walls, and she whimpered. No matter how many times she took him, she’d never grow used to his size. In some form of placation, he kissed at the back of her neck, and behind her ear. It wasn’t working. He pulled back, and the hand in her hair met her throat, fingers flexing as they felt her racing pulse.

“‘S all yer good for anyways, huh?” That stung more than his cock bottoming out inside her. Too big. Please. Slow down. Just—

“That’s alright,” he licked his lips, pinching at the fat of her ass, forcing a yelp from her throat, before he began to thrust, fucking her hard against the window. Wait—

Through choked moans and whimpers, “I don’t…ah–” His hips snapped forward, hitting that special spot inside her, and taking her voice. Please.

“It’s alright, I forgive ya,” He huffed a laugh, close to her ear again, “I love you, after all.”

.♡. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She tried to stamp down the building irritation, but really, “I could have taken it myself.” Did he really think her that incapable?

“It ain’t a bit deal,” She watched as he worked, heavy weight on his shoulders as he squatted, “‘Sides, I was due for a gauntlet upgrade–was on my way,” He side-eyed her as he stood, “Said she’d fix it right up for ya. As a favor.”

The clang of the weight hitting the floor made her jump, “I mean…That’s nice of her–your inventor friend–but I still don’t understand what happened?” Her legs swayed back and forth on the exercise bench in an attempt to soothe her antsy nerves.

He moved to the smaller, hand weights, “Like I said…You knocked it off the nightstand last night,” Sighing as if her question were an inconvenience, “Thought someone broke in with the sound of it fuckin’ shattering.”

She didn’t know she moved in her sleep, or that she was that deep a sleeper. She also didn’t know that phones could break so easily, but she didn’t want to question him–he was going out on a limb for her to fix it for free, but still…

“Well…thank you, but I could have gone with you. I feel like I haven’t been outside in forever, and I’ve been getting a bit…restless.” He’d insisted on her near total confinement until this stalker of hers was found. Which he also said might take a while. What was a while?

“Maybe you can come with me when it’s ready, yeah?” 

She sighed a bit in relief, “Yeah,” Her eyes shifted a bit, “Thank you, though, for–”

“Like I said, stop thankin’ me for given’ a shit about you,” Wiping at his neck with a towel, he stood, and she followed him into the foyer, “Alright. I gotta head out. I’ll try an’ be back before dark this time.” She hummed, and he kissed the crown of her head, giving her a once over, and nodded to himself, heading for the door.

She sighed to herself as the door clicked shut, and turned, eyes scanning over the expanse of the penthouse. This was fine. She had plenty to do–she could make herself useful. Keep herself busy. Maybe then she could ignore the hollow in her chest that had opened who knows how long ago–she could make this work. She had to.

.♡. 

She nudged the closet door open with her hip, carrying the laundry basket inside. She’d gotten used to this routine, and she tried to reclaim some of the peace she used to feel in the silence. She began to fold up the articles, placing them in the drawers. With this impractically large, new closet, laundry day had become a strenuous task on its own.

He had told her she didn’t need to do all this, and in all honesty it did make her feel like a mix between housewife and maid. But what else was there? It wasn’t safe outside, he’d said. She just had to wait a bit more. She could do that. And she really didn’t like upsetting him–not after everything he’d done for her.

She lost track of the time, humming to herself as she worked, closing the drawers, and moving on to place the rest of the clothes on hangers. The lack of music in her ears had a bitter feeling pull at her heart–he’d just taken her phone without asking. He’d started to do a lot of things without asking. No. He loved her; he’d just wanted to do something nice for her. The bitterness melted onto her heart and burned.

How ungrateful.

She was nearly done now, just the back racks left. As she moved to set the basket down she caught sight of pink nylon–her gym bag on the floor, hidden behind the racks. The burn faded, and nostalgia took its place. She kneeled, pulling it from its place propped up against the since sealed shut cabinet–rats, he had reminded her.

She unzipped the bag, and sorted through the equipment. She pulled out the grip strengthener, smiling a bit, and turned it in her hands, finger running along the crack in the metal.

Crack!

“Oh shit!” He laughed, “My bad.” 

“Now, what did you have to go and do that for?” He handed it back to her, and she turned it in her hands, catching sight of the cracked metal, before looking up, and smacking his shoulder. 

“Asshole!” She laughed “You know how hard it is to find a quality grip strengthener?”

His brow furrowed as his eyes flickered to the device in her hands, “I dunno,” a sly smile spreading as he shrugged, “All I’m hearin’ is that you’ve never been taught what quality means.” He moved closer, and she shoved his face away.

“Don’t be gross,” Still, she smiled as she pulled back, “I’m still your physical therapist for one more week.”

“Yeah? And then what?” He smirked.

Her smile turned mischievous, “Huh. I’m not sure,” She looked into the distance, as if contemplating something, “Travel the world? Finally learn how to cook? Steal the moon? Who knows, I–ah!”

He pulled her into his lap with a force that had both of the tumbling to the floor, noses touching. A blink. And then they were laughing, her hands by his head, and his hands on her hips. They settled, and she caught sight of an emotion akin to admiration in his eyes,

“I got a few ideas of what you could do.” His eyes flickered to her lips, fingers flexing on her hips.

“Oh yeah?” She sighed a breath onto his lips.

“Yeah,” He puffed out a breath, but contained himself, flipping them over, and smirking as she squealed, “But we’re not leavin’ this room ‘til I show you what quality really means.” 

She hadn’t realized she was crying until her tears hit the cool metal. She can’t remember the last time he looked at her like that, with admiration that didn’t equal possession.

She sighed, wiping furiously at her face, and shoved it into the bag. What was the use of stewing over something she had no control of? But still, she couldn’t help the building anger in her chest as she moved to put the bag away. Hide away the memories.

She caught sight of the sealed cabinet, and paused. No. He valued his privacy. And he’d told her rats had gotten in through the wall. She’d never seen rats before. But, he also took her phone without asking, and told her it shattered. She’d never been a heavy sleeper. She tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at her; it somehow felt wrong to criticize him–he was doing his best.

There was a familiar feeling of nausea mixing with the guilt creating an overwhelming wave of unease that poured over her nerves. Fuck it. She shuffled through her bag. Where was it? Where was it? There.

She pulled a reflex hammer from inside, turning it backwards, testing the sharp metal tip at its base with her finger. Guess you are good for something. She shuffled forwards, scratching at the sealant of the cabinet, brows furrowed in determination, and mouth set in a hard line as she peeled the rubbery substance from the creases. Almost. Closer. Closer. Done.

She sighed, setting the hammer in the bag, hesitating a bit as her fingers curled over the side crease–why was there no handle? It creaked open, and the smell of dust filling her nostrils had her sneezing. Collecting herself, she waved away the dust, squinting as it settled. 

Inside lay a wooden box of sorts–crate, maybe?--wooden something. Curious. She pulled it into her lap with some strain, prying off the top, and hissing at the sting under her fingernails as they caught on the edge. It fell off with a thump, and she peered inside.

What is that?

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide and trembling. An initialed gym towel. If he’d found it that night…why hadn’t he given this back to her?

And…polaroids? She couldn’t breathe. Was that–No. They were too blurry. Too dark. It couldn’t be…

No. No. No.

A few wads of hair–her hair? She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat against her ribs, blood flow filling her ears like the roaring wave of unease. Except, it wasn’t unease. Were those her clothes?

This didn’t make sense.

Trembling fingers reached inside, pulling out something soft and cotton. Was that..Was that her underwear?

It wasn’t unease.

It was freezing, burning, suffocating terror. But the break in, that chase, how–how had he–?

“Yeah yeah. I owe ya one. Now fuck off, would you?”

Owe ya one. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. No. No. 

This made perfect sense.

She couldn’t fucking breathe.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

She dropped the article as if it had burned her skin, falling back on her hands as she scrambled away. She didn’t want to be near that box. She didn’t want to be anywhere near–

A sigh cut her off, and she had to will her frozen limbs to move. All she could manage was the slight turn of her head. It was enough.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and eyes cold–she didn’t know red could be cold–calculating as he scanned the scene.

He clicked his tongue, bringing a hand to his hair, tipping his head back as he ran his fingers through the locks. A slow, deep, building, familiar chuckle. His eyes snapped back to hers, and every nerve in her body burst with fear.

“Now,” He huffed a laugh, smirk pulling at his lips, “What did you have to go and do that for?”

:))

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐁 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 title: champagne confetti - side B pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: tba beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: january 2025

Prompt 1: “you give me brand new emotion, you got me drinking that potion” Prompt 2:  The lines did blur, in his mind for sure. Will you be tamed or will your passion for fashion falter for greater good - a life without Jeon Jungkook. When everything you’ve worked for hangs in the balance, his twisted love comes as both a gift and a curse.

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | physical violence, hint of incapable police department, jk is the boy saviour here and everybody bends backwards for his famous ass, dubious consent, possessive/obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, references to medication that affects mental and physical responses as "drugs" or "pills" or "medication", power imbalance, themes of isolation and confinement, gaslighting, mentions of mafia and criminal underworld, forced intimacy, oral sex (m!receiving), numbness, reader's difficulties getting wet, use of lube, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding/cow girl, orgasm difficulties, creampie, and so on (if i'll forgot smth, im so soorrryy!)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

this is a sequel, read part one of 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 main masterlist

author's note: so, where to start right? this was a long ass ride, mainly because i was fighting with myself to not burn out on this fic coz i loved it so much, and i still love it, but i won't lie that i got lil overwhelmed with how much love this fic received. I am so so so grateful for each and one of you! ♥ and thank you for your patience too. Life's not easy, please understand that, i always try my best. Thank you all. OH! I hope you will, have, or had very lovely and holy, merry christmas fairies ♥

You looked down at your mug, swirling the mulled wine as you gathered your thoughts. “I... I think I’m ready to go back to work,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The change in Jungkook’s demeanor was immediate. The warmth in his eyes flickered out, replaced by something harder, colder. He set his mug down on the counter with a soft clink, his posture stiffening.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm, but you could hear the edge beneath it. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, the tension between you palpable. He took a step closer, his presence imposing.

“You have,” he admitted, his voice low and measured. “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready to go back out there.”

You felt a pang of frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “I need to feel normal again, Jungkook. I need to get out of here, to do something meaningful.”

His jaw tightened, and he reached out, gently but firmly taking the mug from your hands and setting it aside. His fingers lingered on your wrist for a moment, his touch both comforting and possessive. “This is meaningful,” he said, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked into your eyes. “Us, here, together. This is your life now, Y/N.”

“But..but you promised.” Jungkook's expression flickered, a brief moment of conflict passing through his eyes before his gaze hardened again. He took a deep breath, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as he processed your words.

“I promised to keep you safe,” he said, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite identify—fear, perhaps, or desperation. "And letting you go back to work... it's not safe for you now, Y/N.”

You pulled your wrist free, taking a step back to create some distance. “I can’t stay cooped up in here forever, Jungkook,” you said, your voice trembling but determined. “I need to feel like myself again. I need to be around people, to do something other than just exist in this penthouse.”

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch gentle but his eyes intense. “You are my life now,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. “And I can’t lose you. Not to anything or anyone.” You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch despite the turmoil inside you. Jungkook’s thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Freedom comes with risks, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of love and possessiveness. “And I’m not sure I can handle those risks.”

“I promise I am not plotting, Gguk—” you began, but Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly.

“Are you not?” he cut in, his voice low and dangerous. The hint of desperation from before was now replaced with a cold, steely resolve.

“Just give me a chance to prove—” His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

“I don’t know if I can trust that, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with an unsettling mix of love and possessiveness. He was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tight with tension. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his grip on your face softening.

“We have a family dinner coming up. It’s important, and everyone will be there. If you can behave, show that you can handle yourself around my family, then maybe... just maybe, we can talk about you going back to work.”

The implication of his words settled over you like a weight. This wasn’t just about proving yourself to him; it was about proving yourself to his entire family. The thought was daunting, but you knew this might be your only chance. To get away from his grasp.

“I'll do my best,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of determination and anxiety. “I promise.”

A small, almost tender smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he said softly.

You swallowed hard, the pressure of the upcoming dinner weighing heavily on you. “Who will be there?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Everyone,” he said simply. “My parents, all of my Hyungs... among whom someone can offer you a position if you make a good impression.”

This was your chance, and you had to take it.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

You stood there in Jungkook’s arms, the Christmas lights twinkling softly around you, you resolved to do whatever it took to reclaim a part of your life.

“Now, show me how good you can warm my cock this Christmas.”

.

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy (was unable to tag) - @mylyus-blog (was unable to tag) - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim - @doulcha - @sexytholland - @minyngrl-blog - @mizuumii (was unable to tag) @ali99eel - @loomipee @jkslvsnella - @tearykth - @iveivory - @lachimolalajeon - @mother2monsters - @junecat - @mayvalentine33 - @ttanniett - @elle0604 - @mageprincess7 - @laylasbunbunny - @ashthetic7 - @00frenchfries00 - @weareatthebadlands (was unable to tag) - @annafarrr -

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

see ya soon, love, p.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ Y2KISSME ! ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ kinktober 2023 !

let’s kick it back to the year two thousand, but this time it’s wetter, wilder and raunchier aka the sexier versions of your fav y2k films.

୨୧ — NOTES. here it is my loves!! kinktober 2023. i hope you guys like it i’m super excited. some things might be scrapped but idk !! we’ll see. click here ! to join the taglist. rbs are totally fetch ! ♡ ⋆｡˚

୨୧ — RATED R: the following films contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. ugh, as if ! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.

╰₊✧ OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES - starring; satoru gojo ! ྀི

movie contents: thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown…

KINK: breeding ft. spit, infidelity, agoraphilia, daddy kink, baby trapping, breast play, royalty!au.

╰₊✧ OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS - starring; katsuki bakugou ! ྀི

movie contents: in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore!

KINK: free use ft. dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia.

╰₊✧ OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS - starring; yoichi isagi ! ྀི

movie contents: if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way!

KINK: overstimulation ft. scratching, car sex, public sex, food play, sweat kink, dry humping.

╰₊✧ OCT 16TH CLUELESS - starring; megumi fushiguro ! ྀི

movie contents: are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you?

KINK: step cest ft. photos, videos, soft sex, praise kink, body worship, panty sniffing, stuffed animals.

╰₊✧ OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY - starring; eijirou kirishima ! ྀི

movie contents: there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot.

KINK: monsterfucking ft. gags, claiming, choking, branding, blood kink, cock warming.

╰₊✧ OCT 29TH LEGALLY BLONDE - starring; seishiro nagi ! ྀི

movie contents: there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…

KINK: coercion ft. dumbification, overstimulation, mind break, oral fixation, cherry chasing, power imbalance.

╰₊✧ OCT 31ST CHARLIE'S ANGELS - starring; bakugou, kirishima ‘n midoriya ! ྀི

movie contents: your three precious angels deserve a little reward for all the hard work that they do, don’t you think, charlie?

KINK: gangbang ft. dvp, frottage, blowjobs, voice kink, running a train.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

-----

He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…its was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)