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random ass question, but what pop-star would you assign to your moots?
wait thats such a good question hello??
so I'd say @cocoakook gives me like gracie abrams vibes, @jeontube is nessa barret and a mix of pinkpantheress, @jeonette gives me sabrina carpenter vibes andddd @kookquettes is olivia rodrigo
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streets are growing darker — stabbings, robberies, and reports of stalking leaving the city on edge. then it happens to you. footsteps when no one should be there. strange messages. security glitches. the feeling of being watched that you can’t shake.
jeon jungkook, a decorated officer is assigned to your case. calm, steady, always nearby. he tells you you’re not imagining it, that he’ll keep you safe. but the closer he is, the more you realize: someone is following you. someone is always there. and the line between protection and obsession starts to blur. and by the time you notice, you’re already in a headlock.
pairings: detective!jungkook x fem!reader
tags/warnings: psychological thriller, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, stalking/obsession, threatening situations, violence, slow burn, mentions of drug use & alcohol consumption, heavy manipulation, jealousy themes, mentions of death (more to be added)
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you match with Jeon Jungkook, your old high school rival, and the tension picks up right where it left off. sarcastic flirting turns into a charged bar meetup, where competition slowly gives way to undeniable attraction. neither of you wants to admit it, but the chemistry has always been there.
⸝⸝ pairings: jungkook x f!reader
⸝⸝ tags: dating app au, enemies-to-lovers, mutual pinning, alcohol consumption, jealousy themes, explicit sexual content
⸝⸝ wc: 4k
( 𝜗ৎ ) this was rushed, but thank you for 600+ !
you’re not even paying attention when you open the app.
it’s muscle memory at this point. thumb flicking up the screen while you half watch whatever is playing on your tv. profile, swipe left. profile, swipe left. a guy holding a fish. immediate no. another one with a group photo where you cannot tell which one he is. also no.
you sigh and sink deeper into your couch.
dating apps were supposed to be fun. or at least distracting. lately they just feel repetitive. same bios. same poses. same conversations that go nowhere.
you almost close the app. then the next profile loads. you freeze. there’s no dramatic moment. no music swelling in your head. just this sudden jolt of recognition that hits before you even consciously process why.
it’s him.
Jungkook.
your brain takes a second to catch up with your eyes.
the first photo is a mirror selfie at a gym. he’s shirtless, phone held low in one hand, the other resting behind his neck like he wasn’t even trying. sweat darkens his hair at the temples. his shoulders are broader than you remember. defined arms. sharp lines down his stomach. there’s a smear of chalk on his palm like he just finished lifting.
you blink.
okay.
you swipe to the next picture.
he’s wearing a black compression shirt this time, sleeves pushed up, boxing gloves hanging around his neck. there’s a bruise blooming faintly along his cheekbone. he’s smiling, crooked and cocky, like he knows exactly how he looks. you roll your eyes even though there’s no one there to see it.
“of course,” you mutter to yourself.
third photo. casual. sitting on what looks like a balcony railing, city lights behind him. jeans, hoodie, messy hair. he looks older. not in a bad way. just more settled into himself. more solid.
your chest does something weird. you scroll down to the bio.
“probably stronger than you.
i talk a lot of shit but i’m nice, promise.
if you can outdrink me i’ll buy the next round.”
you let out a short laugh.
that is so him.
familiar.
a memory flashes before you can stop it. high school gymnasium. the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. him across the court, grinning after scoring like he’d just personally offended you.
you shove the thought away. this is ridiculous. you have not seen him in years. you barely thought about him after graduation. there is no reason your stomach should feel tight right now.
you should swipe left.
obviously.
instead your thumb hovers over the screen. you tilt your head slightly, studying the first photo again. the confidence. the expression. the fact that he clearly put that shirtless picture first on purpose.
god, he’s so full of himself.
you swipe right.
immediately regret it.
“what am i doing,” you mumble, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. it buzzes not even two seconds later. you stare at it.
no way.
you pick it up slowly.
it’s a match.
your stomach drops. for a full five seconds you just sit there, staring at the screen like it might change if you wait long enough. then another notification pops up.
jungkook:
well this is unexpected.
your mouth falls open.
he messaged first.
you type back before you can overthink it.
you:
unfortunately.
three dots appear almost instantly.
jungkook:
still mean.
you snort.
you:
still annoying?
jungkook:
still obsessed with me?
you actually laugh out loud at that.
some things really never change.
the conversation slides into place without effort. like stepping back into a rhythm you didn’t realize you remembered. the teasing comes naturally. the sarcasm. the little jabs.
he asks what you’ve been doing since school. you give a vague answer. you ask about him.
jungkook:
trainer now. boxing too.
you glance back at his profile photos.
yeah. that checks out.
you:
so you get paid to stare at yourself in mirrors?
jungkook:
only when you’re not around to do it for me.
you roll your eyes but your face feels warm.
why does this feel so easy?
you haven’t talked to him in years. back then half your interactions were arguments. competing over grades. sniping at each other during group projects. trying to prove who was better at whatever random thing came up.
you were both stubborn. neither of you ever backed down. it should feel awkward now. it doesn’t.
if anything, it feels… familiar. comfortable in a weird, slightly dangerous way.
your phone buzzes again.
jungkook:
you still get that wrinkle when you’re annoyed?
you pause.
you:
what wrinkle?
jungkook:
between your eyebrows
your chest tightens.
he remembers that?
you stare at the message longer than you mean to.
you:
you’re imagining things.
jungkook:
am i?
another pause.
then:
jungkook:
we should get a drink.
your heart does an immediate, traitorous jump.
you stare at the words.
you should say no.
that would be the logical response. safe. normal. mature.
instead you type:
you:
why? so you can brag about how strong you are in person?
jungkook:
obviously.
you bite your lip, thinking.
jungkook:
what’s wrong? scared?
there it is.
that stupid competitive trigger he always knew how to hit.
you shake your head, already typing.
you:
not even a little.
jungkook:
then come out.
you hesitate for maybe three seconds.
then:
you:
fine.
his reply comes almost immediately.
jungkook:
tomorrow?
the next evening you tell yourself you’re only going because you’re curious. closure, maybe. that’s what you call it in your head while you’re getting ready. just seeing how he turned out. catching up. proving to yourself you don’t care anymore.
you definitely don’t spend too long deciding what to wear. you definitely don’t check your reflection twice before leaving.
by the time you get to the bar your nerves are buzzing under your skin, though you refuse to label it as nervousness. you pick a stool near the middle. order a drink. check your phone even though you know he hasn’t arrived yet. your knee bounces lightly.
you take a sip. the alcohol burns just enough to settle you a little. the door opens behind you and cold air brushes your shoulders. you don’t turn right away. there’s this strange awareness prickling along your spine. then you look.
and there he is.
he’s wearing a black jacket over a dark shirt, jeans, boots. casual. effortless. taller than you remember. broader too. his hair falls slightly into his eyes as he scans the room.
when he spots you, his expression shifts. recognition. then that familiar half smile. your stomach flips.
he walks over like he’s completely sure of himself. like there was never a chance you wouldn’t be here. he stops in front of you.
for a second neither of you speaks.
up close, he looks even more different. older. sharper. his presence fills the space in a way it never did when you were teenagers.
“you look different,” he says.
“good different or bad different?”
“good,” he says immediately. then, quieter, “grown.”
your stomach flips in a way you do not like.
you deflect. “you look exactly the same. ego included.”
he laughs softly and slides onto the stool beside you. close enough that your arms almost touch. and just like that, the past and present blur together. same teasing. same energy. except now there’s something else underneath it.
something you definitely did not plan for. and you have a feeling this night is not going to stay simple for very long. there is a pause, heavier this time.
“you really hated me back then?” he asks suddenly. the question catches you off guard. you frown. “you were competition. you acted like everything was a game.”
“it was a game,” he says. “with you.”
“that doesn’t make it better.”
“i know.” you blink again. that was not defensive. not teasing. just honest. you look down at your drink. “you were always trying to one-up me.”
“because you were the only person who could keep up.”
you glance back at him. his expression is different now. softer around the edges. “you know,” he continues, “i thought you hated me for real.”
“i didn’t hate you,” you say quietly.
he raises an eyebrow. “no?”
“you just… got under my skin.”
“still do?”
your breath catches. you should say no. instead you shrug. “maybe.”
he watches you for a long second, like he is trying to read something deeper. “i missed this,” he says.
“arguing?”
“you.”
your heart stutters. you laugh to cover it. “that’s dramatic.”
“i’m serious.”
he turns his body more toward you now. closer. your knees touch again and this time neither of you moves. “do you know how many times i almost messaged you first?” he says.
you blink. “what?”
“before we matched,” he clarifies.
“you didn’t.”
“because i figured you’d ignore me.”
you stare at him. “i almost unmatched you.”
he grins. “see? i was right.”
you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “you’re unbelievable.”
“but you’re here.”
his voice is quieter again.
there is something building between you. not sudden. not explosive. just steady pressure, like a door being pushed open inch by inch. “why did you come?” he asks.
you hesitate. honesty feels dangerous.
“…closure,” you say finally.
he studies you. “and are you getting it?”
you swallow. “i don’t know yet.”
he nods slowly. then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches over and tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. the touch is brief. your whole body reacts anyway. “you’re tense,” he murmurs.
“i’m fine.”
“you’re not.”
you exhale sharply. “you make me nervous.” his eyebrows lift slightly. “me?”
“yes, you. you’ve always had this… energy.”
“what kind of energy?”
you hesitate, then admit it. “like you’re about to do something reckless.”
he smiles, slow and knowing. “maybe i am.”
your pulse jumps. “what?” you ask. instead of answering, he finishes his drink, sets the glass down, and stands. “come on,” he says.
“where?”
“outside. it’s loud in here.”
you hesitate for half a second. then you slide off the stool and follow him. the night air is cool against your skin when you step out of the bar. the noise fades behind the door. streetlights cast everything in warm yellow. you turn toward him. he is already looking at you.
closer now. much closer.
“so,” he says quietly, “closure.”
“yeah.”
“do you feel it?”
you shake your head before you can stop yourself. “no,” you admit.
his jaw tightens slightly, like he is holding something back. “me neither,” he says. the space between you feels charged. your hands are inches apart.
“jungkook,” you start.
he moves first. one step forward, hand sliding to your waist, pulling you in like the decision was already made hours ago.
the kiss hits fast. not tentative. not polite. familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. you grab his shirt without thinking. he exhales against your mouth like he has been waiting years. when you finally pull back, both of you are breathing harder.
his forehead rests against yours.
“closure,” he murmurs.
you laugh softly, dizzy. “yeah. definitely closure.”
but neither of you lets go.
the kiss leaves both of you a little disoriented.
you are still standing outside the bar, his hand warm against your waist, your fingers curled in the front of his shirt like you forgot how to let go. the city noise hums around you, cars passing, muffled music leaking through the door behind you, but it all feels far away.
he pulls back first, just enough to look at you.his eyes are darker now. less teasing. more focused. “you live far?” he asks quietly.
you shake your head. “ten minutes. walking.”
he nods once. “okay.” neither of you says the obvious question. you just start walking. for the first minute, your hands brush accidentally. then again. then he finally just takes yours, like he is done pretending it is coincidence.
“you’re quiet,” he says.
“i’m thinking.”
“dangerous.”
you bump his shoulder lightly. “shut up.” he laughs under his breath. there is something different about him now. the cockiness is still there, but softer around the edges. like he is paying attention in a way he did not before.
“you always walked this fast?” he asks after a moment.
“i’m not walking fast.”
“you are. you’re nervous.”
you glance at him. “i’m not nervous.”
he squeezes your hand slightly. “you kissed me like you were.”
your face heats. “you kissed me too.”
“yeah,” he admits. “i did.”
silence settles again, but it is not awkward. just heavy. full. “do you regret it?” he asks. the question hits deeper than you expect.
“…no,” you say.
he nods slowly. you can see his shoulders loosen a little, like he was bracing for the opposite answer. “good,” he murmurs.
you reach your building sooner than you want to. you stop at the entrance, turning toward him, suddenly aware of everything again. the height difference. how close he is standing. the way your hands are still linked. this is the moment where people usually say goodnight. you both know that. neither of you moves. “so,” you say, a little breathless, “this is me.”
he looks up at the building, then back at you. “nice,” he says. you huff a small laugh. “you haven’t even seen inside.”
“wasn’t talking about the apartment.”
your heart skips.
“jungkook…”
he studies your face, searching.
“tell me to go,” he says quietly.
your throat goes dry. you could. you probably should. instead you hear yourself say, “do you want to come up?”
his answer is immediate. “yeah.”
the elevator ride feels shorter than it is. you can feel the heat coming off him in the small space, your shoulders almost touching, the tension climbing with every floor. when the doors open, you both step out a little too quickly.
your hands shake slightly when you unlock your door. he notices.
“hey,” he says softly.
you look up. his expression is gentler than you have ever seen it.
“we can just hang out,” he adds. “no pressure.”
that somehow makes it worse. because now you want him more.
you open the door and step inside. he follows, glancing around your apartment with quiet curiosity. “this feels like you,” he says.
“what does that mean?”
“organized. but not boring.”
you snort. “wow. glowing review.”
he smiles, then his eyes land back on you. the air shifts again. you are standing close. closer than you realized.
“come here,” he murmurs.
you do.
this kiss is slower than the one outside the bar. deeper. less shock, more intention. his hand slides to your waist again, thumb brushing your side through your clothes, and your breath catches into his mouth.
years of tension sits right under the surface. when you pull back, you are both breathing harder. “still want closure?” he asks, voice rougher now.
you shake your head slightly. “no,” you admit.
his forehead rests against yours for a second.
“good,” he says quietly. and this time, when he kisses you again, neither of you is pretending anymore.
he doesn’t give you a chance to think. his hands slide from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. your knees nearly buckle, and you cling to him for balance. his mouth is demanding, tracing yours with a kind of familiarity that makes your chest burn.
you gasp softly when he tilts your head, deepening the kiss. one hand threads into your hair, tilting your face just right. you press against him, and he hums, low and satisfied, his body warm and hard against yours.
“you’re… still impossible,” you murmur between kisses, breathless.
“yeah?” he replies, voice rough. “still like it?”
your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer. your hearts are racing in sync, breaths short, heat building between you. he leans back slightly, scanning your face as if memorizing every detail, before crashing back in.
the room shrinks until it’s just the two of you, pressing, moving, all teasing and tension. you stumble back toward the couch, him right behind you, hands never leaving, lips never leaving.
your clothes brush against each other in ways that make your stomach flutter with a mix of anticipation and shock at how fast this is escalating. every touch, every press of his body against yours sends sparks you weren’t expecting, and you realize that all the teasing and rivalry has funneled into this one moment.
he whispers against your lips "i don't remember you being this needy?" that makes your knees go weak, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, heart hammering.
he lets out a low chuckle, hot and teasing, and presses you further back, hands sliding lower, his touch more urgent.
he tasted like whiskey and mint, his mouth devouring yours as if he'd been starving for this. you bit his lower lip hard enough to draw a groan from him, and he retaliated by grinding his hips forward, the friction sending sparks up your spine.
his hands roamed, sliding under your blouse to cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked under his touch. you arched into him, hating how good it felt.
he pushed you down onto the couch, following you until he was straddling your thighs, his weight pinning you in place. the tension coiled tighter, every touch laced with the edge of your old competition--who would break first?
his fingers worked your blouse open, exposing your lace bra, and he didn't hesitate, shoving it up to latch his mouth onto one nipple.
he sucked hard, tongue flicking relentlessly, while his hand pinched the other, rolling it between his fingers.
your legs parted instinctively as he settled between them, his clothed cock now rubbing directly against your core through your skirt. the fabric barrier was maddening; you rocked up against him, chasing the pressure, the heat building low in your belly.
he lifted his head, eyes dark and hooded. "you want this as bad as i do. admit it."
his voice was rough, challenging, and it ignited that fire in you. instead of answering, you flipped him over--or tried to, but he was stronger, laughing as he caught your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. the other dipped under your skirt, fingers brushing the edge of your panties.
"jungkook," you breathed, the plea slipping out despite yourself. he smirked, that infuriating look, and hooked his fingers into the fabric, yanking them down your thighs. cool air hit your exposed pussy, already slick with arousal, and he groaned at the sight.
his free hand traced your inner thigh, teasing closer but not quite touching where you needed him. the tension was unbearable, your body thrumming with anticipation, every nerve on edge from the push-pull of your history.
"touch me," you demanded, voice edged with frustration.
"say please." he leaned down, breath ghosting over your clit, and you bucked up involuntarily.
"please," you muttered, hating the word but craving his mouth.
satisfied, jungkook released your wrists and dove in, his tongue flattening against your pussy in one long, slow lick from entrance to clit. you cried out, hands fisting the couch cushions as he lapped at you like a man possessed. his lips closed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, the pressure building that coil inside you.
he ate you out with focused intensity, tongue circling your clit before dipping lower to thrust inside you, tasting your wetness. "fuck, you taste good," he growled against your folds, the vibration making you shudder.
his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you writhed, the rivalry forgotten in the haze of pleasure. but not entirely--every flick of his tongue felt like a challenge, pushing you toward the edge only to pull back, keeping you teetering.
"jungkook, don't stop," you panted, hips grinding against his face. he hummed in response, one finger sliding into your pussy, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
he pumped it slowly, then added a second, stretching you as his mouth worked your clit relentlessly.
you were close, so close, when he pulled away abruptly, leaving you whining and empty.
he was already shedding his shirt, revealing the toned muscles you'd only glimpsed in high school. his jeans followed, cock springing free, thick and hard, pre-cum beading at the tip.
"condoms?" he asked, voice strained as he stroked himself once, eyes on your glistening pussy. you shook your head, the reality crashing in--no protection, just raw want. "shit, i don't have any." the words hung between you, tension spiking anew. part of you wanted to stop, but the pull was too strong.
jungkook's gaze darkened. "then ride me. i want to feel you bare." his words were a command wrapped in desire, and before you could overthink, you were straddling him, knees bracketing his hips on the couch.
you sank down slowly, inch by inch, gasping at the stretch. no barrier, just skin on skin, his thickness filling you completely.
"fuck," he groaned, hands clamping onto your ass, guiding you deeper. you bottomed out, pussy clenching around him, the sensation overwhelming--full, exposed, vulnerable in the best way. the tension hummed, your bodies locked in this intimate battle, who could hold out longer?
you started moving, rolling your hips in a slow grind, feeling every ridge of his cock drag against your walls. jungkook thrust up to meet you, the slap of skin echoing, his grip bruising as he urged you faster. he panted, eyes locked on where you joined, watching your pussy swallow him whole.
you leaned forward, nails digging into his shoulders, using the leverage to bounce on him, each drop sending jolts of pleasure through you.
his hands roamed up your back, then down to squeeze your breasts, pinching your nipples as you rode him relentlessly. the pace built, tension coiling like a spring--sweat slicked your skin, breaths mingling in harsh gasps.
"you feel so fucking tight," he growled, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit in tight circles. the dual stimulation pushing you closer to the edge. your hips stuttered, thighs quivering as you ground down harder, feeling his cock throb inside you, pre-cum mixing with your arousal. it pushed you higher, your movements turning frantic, chasing that peak.
"come for me, show me you can't resist."
his words tipped you over, orgasm crashing through you like a wave, pussy spasming around his cock as you cried out his name.
he followed seconds later, thrusting deep and spilling inside you, hot cum flooding your core.
you collapsed against his chest, both of you heaving, his arms wrapping around you in a possessive hold. the aftershocks rippled through your joined bodies, his cock still twitching inside your sensitive pussy.
the tension finally breaking into sated exhaustion.
you felt the spark reignite--the tension far from resolved.
you rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him--sweat, soap, something uniquely him--and for a moment, the teasing, the rivalry, the tension all dissolve. he shifts slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “you okay?” he murmurs. his voice is softer now, almost vulnerable.
“yeah,” you say, voice low. “you?”
“never better,” he admits, but you catch the faint edge of uncertainty beneath it. the cocky facade hasn’t fully returned. just a man who’s spent years missing this closeness and maybe too stubborn to admit it.
you laugh softly, a little breathless. “so… we’re really doing this?”
“doing what?” he teases, nudging you gently.
“this,” you whisper, gesturing vaguely between you, the quiet aftermath, the lingering warmth.he smirks, but it’s tender.
“guess we are.” for a while, neither of you talks. you lie there, limbs tangled, just feeling the other’s presence, hearts slowing, breaths aligning. he drifts slightly against you, light snores mixing with your own soft exhales.
after a lazy stretch and a quiet breakfast of leftovers from last night, your phone buzzes on the table. you glance at it and freeze.
jungkook:
so… about last night.
you stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. your chest tightens, a little flutter of nerves that hadn’t been there since he walked into the bar.
you:
what about it?
jungkook:
thinking. maybe we should make a habit of this.
your eyebrows shoot up. “habit?”
you:
oh? so now we’re scheduling hookups?
jungkook:
no. not just that.
you:
what do you mean?
jungkook:
we should see each other… again. like properly. not just random nights.
your heart skips. the teasing is gone from the message, replaced by something quieter. serious. maybe even a little vulnerable.
you:
you’re… serious?
jungkook:
yeah. i’m serious.
you in?
you stare at the phone for a long second. the sun hits your hand as you scroll through the messages again, and you realize this isn’t just the same cocky guy from high school. he’s still competitive, still teasing--but he’s also… thoughtful.
you:
i’m in.
he replies almost immediately.
jungkook:
good. didn’t want to push you…
but i had to ask.
you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. the app that started it all, the ridiculous swipe that brought him back into your life, suddenly feels like the doorway to something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for.and somewhere, deep down, you know this is only the beginning.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You’re forced into an emergency medical protocol that pairs you with a highly compatible alpha to survive your first heat. The only match? Toji Fushiguro, a stranger who’s already agreed to the assignment, and whose presence affects you far more than it should.
⸝⸝ pairings: Alpha!Toji x Omega!Reader
⸝⸝ tags: omega verse / abo dynamics, medically assigned mates, forced proximity, possessive behavior (instinctive), strangers to lovers, explicit sexual content, fingering, unprotected sex
Once again, the clinic smells like antiseptic and artificial lavender.
You sit on the edge of the chair in the consultation room with your hands folded in your lap, fingers laced too tightly, knees pressed together like you are trying to make yourself smaller.
The doctor is still talking. Something about onset windows. Hormonal escalation. Monitoring requirements. You hear the words but they don't stick. Your pulse is way too loud.
“He’ll be here in a moment,” she says gently.
Your stomach flips. You nod even though you are not sure what you are agreeing to. Assigned alpha with eighty seven percent compatibility?
The number keeps echoing in your head like it means something more than biology.
A knock sounds against the door and your spine straightens instantly. The door opens and he walks in.
Toji Fushiguro fills the doorway without trying. Broad shoulders, dark clothes, the kind of physical presence that makes the air feel heavier.
Your body reacts before your brain does, heat floods your face and your pulse jumps. Something low in your stomach pulls tight and then drops.
His eyes find you immediately. Your throat goes dry.
He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, and the subtle shift in space makes you hyperaware of how close he is even though he is still several feet away.
“This is Toji,” the doctor introduces him. “Your assigned alpha.”
Assigned, right.
He gives a short nod toward you. You nod back too fast.
Embarrassing.
You look down at your hands, then immediately force yourself to look back up because looking submissive feels worse somehow. His gaze is steady. Assessing you but not where it's invasive.
“You feeling alright?” he asks. His voice is low and rough around the edges.
You swallow. “Yeah. I mean. Just nervous.”
Something in his expression shifts. Softer, almost?
“Normal,” he reassures
The doctor continues explaining protocol. Monitoring vitals, hydration, environmental safety and most importantly consent requirements.
You try to focus, but your awareness keeps drifting toward him. It's his scent. It is faint but unmistakable. Warm wood and something darker underneath. It settles in your lungs every time you breathe.
Your shoulders loosen again without permission. You shift in your seat, embarrassed by your own body. He notices, of course he notices.
His posture changes slightly. You would not have caught it if you were not already hyperaware. The scent in the air deepens just a fraction.
The doctor asks if you both consent to proceed. He answers first. “Yes.”
With no hesitation, Then he looks at you, his gaze isn't pressuring, nor demanding, just--waiting.
Your chest tightens. You nod. “Yes.”
The doctor smiles like this is routine but to you it feels like stepping off a cliff.
The car ride is quiet.
You sit in the passenger seat with your hands folded again, staring at the dashboard while trying not to notice how large he feels beside you.
His forearm rests on the steering wheel. Veins visible under his skin. A faint scar crossing one knuckle. Your eyes linger too long. You look away quickly.
“What do you do?” he asks after a few minutes.
The question surprises you.
“Oh. Um. I work at a publishing office. Editing mostly. Manuscripts. Nothing exciting.”
He nods once.
“You like it?”
You hesitate.
“Yeah. I mean… it’s stable.”
That sounds sad when you say it out loud.
He glances at you briefly. “Stable’s good.”
“What about you?” you ask, even though you already know from his file.
“Private security.” The way he says it is casual. Like it is not a big deal. But the image clicks into place immediately. Of course.
“You mean like… bodyguard?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugs slightly. “Executive protection. Escort work. Depends on the contract.”
That explains everything. His size, his presence, the quiet confidence.
“Is it dangerous?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“Sometimes.”
Your fingers tighten together.
He notices again.
“It’s controlled,” he adds after a moment. “Planning matters more than fighting.”
That reassures you more than it should.
“You’ve done it a long time?”
“Yeah.”
You want to ask more. You want to know everything suddenly. Where he works. Who he protects. What his life looks like when you are not in it. You bite the questions back. He glances at you again.
“You’re thinking too hard.”
Your face burns.
“I just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit quietly.
“With this?”
You nod.
He is quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to know,” he says. “That’s my job.”
Your chest tightens at that unexpectedly and you feel heat run through your body. You stare at your hands so he does not see your expression.
His building is nicer than you expected. Not luxury, but solid and secure. He walks slightly behind you as you enter, his presence close enough that you feel it like a shield.
The elevator ride is silent.
You are suddenly very aware that you are going to be alone with him. In his home. Your stomach twists at that.
He unlocks the door and steps aside to let you enter first. The first thing you notice inside is the scent. Not overwhelming, just everywhere.
It wraps around you instantly. Familiar already. Comforting in a way that makes your knees feel weak. You hope he does not notice the way you inhale slightly deeper.
He does
“Too much?” he asks.
You shake your head quickly.
“No. It’s fine.”
Your voice comes out softer than you intended.
The apartment is clean. Functional and masculine without being cold. A black gym duffel sits near the entry, partially open. Hand wraps, a water bottle, the edge of what looks like tactical gloves visible inside.
Near the wall is a tall cabinet with a lock built into the handle. Subtle and discreet. You glance at it for half a second too long.
“Equipment,” he says.
You nod quickly.
“Right.”
The kitchen is simple. Coffee maker. Protein containers. Meal prep boxes stacked neatly in the fridge when he opens it to grab water.
“You can take the bedroom,” he says. “I’ll use the couch.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you say immediately.
He looks at you, like really looks.
Your stomach drops.
“You’re the one going through heat,” he says. “You get the bed.”
You nod.
“Okay.”
You wander a little, pretending to look around normally even though every step feels loaded with awareness.
His bedroom is simple with a large bed, dark sheets, clean lines. His scent is strongest here. Your omega settles instantly. Relief floods you so fast it is almost embarrassing.
You sit on the edge of the mattress without thinking. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. “You feeling anything yet?” he asks.
“A little warm,” you admit. “Restless.”
He nods once.
“We’ll monitor it.”
You nod too.
Silence settles.
You fidget with the edge of the blanket. “What’s your schedule usually like?” you ask, mostly to fill the quiet.
He shrugs slightly. “Train in the morning. Contracts during the day if I’ve got one. More training. Eat. Sleep.”
“That’s it?”
“Mostly.”
“You don’t get bored?”
“No.”
The simplicity of the answer makes you smile a little despite yourself. “You like routine,” you say.
“It works.”
You hesitate. “Do you live alone all the time?”
“Yeah.” No hesitation.
“Don’t you get lonely?”
The question slips out before you can stop it.
He studies you for a second. “Not really.”
You look down at your hands again. Your fingers are twisting together in your lap. He pushes off the doorframe and steps closer. He stops just in front of you. Close enough that you feel his body heat.
“You nervous?” he asks quietly.
You nod before you can pretend otherwise. “Yeah.” His hand lifts slightly, then pauses like he is giving you time to object.
You don’t.
His fingers settle lightly against your wrist. He is warm and steady. Your shoulders drop without you realizing it. “You’re alright,” he says.
The words hit somewhere deep. You swallow. You hate how safe you feel, You hate how much you do not want him to move away, and you hate that he can probably tell. Because your body is already leaning toward him just a little.
The apartment feels different at night.
Quieter than you expected. No traffic bleeding through the windows, no neighbors moving around. Just the low hum of the refrigerator somewhere down the hall and the faint creak of the building settling. It makes everything feel more intimate. Smaller. Like the space has closed in around you.
You stand in the spare bedroom doorway, fingers curled into the hem of the oversized T-shirt he gave you earlier. It smells like clean detergent with something underneath that is unmistakably him. Warm. Masculine. Heavy in a way that makes your chest feel tight.
“It’s clean,” he says from behind you. “Sheets are fresh. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
His voice is calm, steady, but the air between you still feels charged. Like something is waiting to happen and neither of you are saying it out loud.
You nod. “Thank you.”
A pause stretches.
You are aware of him standing close. Too close. Your shoulders feel warm where his body heat reaches you even without contact.
Then you step into the room, putting distance between you before your brain can overthink it. You set your bag down on the chair, smoothing your hands over the fabric like you need something to do.
Behind you, you hear his footsteps retreat down the hallway. A door opens. Closes.
Only then do you breathe out properly.
Sleep does not come easy.
You turn once. Then again.
The mattress is comfortable. The sheets are soft. None of that matters because your body feels… wrong.
Warmth pools low in your stomach, spreading slowly outward in waves that make your thighs press together without you meaning to. Your skin feels sensitive where it brushes the fabric. Even the air feels heavier against you.
It’s nerves.
That’s all this is.
New place. New person. New situation.
You roll onto your side, pulling the blanket up higher, burying your face into the pillow.
The scent hits immediately.
Him.
It is faint, probably just from the apartment itself, but it is enough to make your breathing stutter. Something in your chest tightens. Your stomach flips.
God.
This is so embarrassing.
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything else. Counting breaths. Thinking about work. Tomorrow. Normal things. But the warmth keeps building. Minutes pass. Maybe longer.
You are just starting to drift when you hear it. A sharp inhale from the hallway. Your eyes open. The bedroom door pushes open slowly, hallway light spilling across the floor.
And there he is.
Toji Fushiguro stands in the doorway, shirtless, wearing only loose sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His hair is messy like he just woke up, and his expression is different from earlier. Almost predatory. Your pulse jumps immediately.
“Did I wake you?” you ask quietly.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he steps into the room. One step, then another.
His eyes stay on you the whole time, dark and heavy in a way that makes heat curl through your stomach again. You become painfully aware of yourself. The way you are sitting. The way the blanket is pulled up to your chest. The way your thighs are pressed together.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, softer now.
He stops beside the bed.
Up close, you can see the tension in his jaw. The way his nostrils flare slightly, like he is scenting the air. Your heart starts pounding.
“You feel that?” he asks quietly.
You blink. “Feel what?”
A long second passes. His gaze drops to your throat, then to your mouth, then lower. When his eyes come back to yours, something in them has changed.
“Your scent,” he says.
Confusion hits first. “I showered before bed, I don’t-”
“It’s not that.” His voice is lower now. Rougher.
Your stomach flips.
“I could smell it from my room,” he continues. “Shift started.”
Shift?
“No,” you say immediately. “No, I would know if-”
“You wouldn’t,” he cuts in calmly. “First heat after suppressants fails is messy. Body doesn’t follow a schedule.”
Heat crawls up your neck.
Embarrassment mixes with something else. Something heavier. Your thighs press together again without permission.
You hate that he notices. Because he definitely does.
His eyes drop briefly, then come back up.
“Hey,” he says, quieter.
You swallow. “I’m fine.”
You are not fine.
Your skin feels too tight. Too warm. There is a restless energy under it, like you want to move but do not know how. Your pulse is loud in your ears.
He steps closer. Instinctively, you lean back into the headboard. You don't even realize you are doing it until his hand comes down on the mattress beside your thigh. Not touching you. Just there. Solid. Grounding.
“You’re not fine,” he says.
The words should annoy you. Instead, they make something in your chest loosen. “I can manage,” you whisper.
His jaw tightens slightly. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”
Another step closer. Now he is right there. Close enough that you can feel his body heat. Close enough that his scent wraps around you fully and your stomach drops in a way that is almost dizzying.
God. This is bad. Your fingers curl into the blanket.
He notices that too. “You took your temp before bed?” he asks.
You shake your head slightly.
“Pulse?” Another shake. His eyes narrow just a fraction. “Thought so.” Before you can react, his hand lifts toward you. Slow and deliberate.
You freeze.
His fingers brush lightly against the side of your neck. The contact is gentle. But the effect is immediate. Your breath catches.
Heat rushes straight through you, pooling low in your stomach so fast it almost hurts. Your thighs press together harder. A soft sound escapes you before you can stop it.
Both of you freeze. His pupils blow wide.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rougher now. “Shift’s definitely started.”
Embarrassment slams into you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper automatically.
His brows pull together. “For what?”
“I don’t know. I just-” You swallow. “This is awkward.”
Something changes in his expression then. His hand slides from your neck to your jaw, thumb resting lightly near your chin. You lean into it, you didn’t mean to. The moment you realize, you try to pull back.
His grip tightens slightly. Not enough to hurt but enough to stop you.
“Easy,” he says quietly.
Your pulse is racing now. Your brain feels fuzzy around the edges. Every point where he is touching you feels too intense. Too aware.
Your breathing gets shallow. His scent is everywhere. Warm. Deep. Comforting in a way that makes something inside you want to curl closer. You hate how much you want that.
“I’m not…” you start, voice unsteady. “I’m not trying to…”
He watches you for a long second. Then his thumb brushes lightly over your lower lip.
Your stomach drops.
“You are,” he says quietly. “But your body’s louder than your head right now.”
Heat floods your face. You should move. You should say something. Instead, you stay perfectly still while his gaze darkens.
“And if it’s already hitting you this hard,” he continues, voice dropping lower, “we’re not waiting until morning.”
Your breath stutters.
“What does that mean?” you whisper.
His hand slides from your jaw down to your throat, resting there briefly, feeling your pulse.
“Soften up,” he murmurs.
Your body does immediately.
His eyes flicker with something dark and possessive when he feels it happen.
Then he leans closer. Close enough that his breath brushes your lips.
“If I don’t start helping you now,” he says quietly, “it’s gonna get a hell of a lot worse.”
Your fingers clutch the blanket.
“And you don’t want that,” he finishes, voice rough.
You swallow. Your voice barely comes out.
“…No.”
His forehead almost touches yours.
And then his hand slides down your arm, over your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as he pulls you closer toward him.
Without a word, he reached out his hand gentle but firm as he hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest.
The movement was effortless, his strength evident but controlled, like he knew exactly how fragile you felt right now.
Your back pressed to his solid torso, the heat of his skin seeping through your thin shirt.
"Easy now," he murmured, voice low and commanding, lips brushing your ear.
"I've got you. Just breathe through it."
You whimpered, the sound involuntary as another wave of need crashed over you. Your hips twitched, seeking friction against nothing, and Toji's grip tightened just enough to hold you still.
His free hand slid down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping between your legs.
The proximity to him amplified everything, his scent wrapping around you like a blanket, making your thighs clench involuntarily.
Toji's free hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze.
"Look at me," he said, tone soft yet unyielding.
Satisfied with your compliance, he shifted, maneuvering you so you lay back against the pillows.
He looks at you and hesitates before his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, gripping the fabric and slowly peeling it upward.
Your nipples hardened instantly, pebbling under his scrutiny. He groans as his eyes darken as he drank in the sight of you.
Next came your shorts, his fingers deftly unbuttoning them and sliding the zipper down. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, along with your underwear, and pulled them off in one smooth motion, leaving you completely bare before him.
Naked and vulnerable, you shivered, but he noticed and his presence chased away the chill.
He stripped off his own shirt, revealing the sculpted ridges of his abs and the faint scars that mapped his chest, then kicked off his sweatpants.
The outline of his cock sat heavy underneath his boxers.
He didn't rush. Instead, he settled beside you again, pulling your body flush against his once more, skin to skin.
His erection pressed against your thigh, hot and insistent, but he ignored it for now, focusing on you.
"Touch me," you whispered, voice breaking.
"Patience, i'll get you there"
His hand trailed down your side, over the swell of your hip, before dipping between your parted thighs. You were drenched, your pussy slick with arousal that coated your inner thighs. He groaned at the feel of it, his fingers gliding through your folds with ease.
"Shit, you body's begging for it."
He started slow, his middle finger circling your entrance teasingly before pushing inside.
your walls fluttering around the single digit as he pumped it in and out, shallow at first to let you adjust.
You arched into his touch, a moan spilling from your lips. Toji's other arm held you steady, his bicep a solid pillow under your head.
"That's it, relax," he encouraged, lips brushing your temple.
He added his index finger, stretching you further, the dual thickness curling upward to stroke that bundle of nerves deep inside.
The rhythm built gradually, his fingers thrusting deeper, twisting slightly with each pass to heighten the sensation.
His thumb found your clit, pressing down in firm circles that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
You rocked your hips, chasing the friction, your hands clutching at his shoulders.
Nails dug into his skin, but he didn't flinch
Sweat slicked your bodies as he worked you higher, the wet sounds of his fingers moving in your heat filling the room.
He scissored them apart, opening you up, preparing you for what was to come.
Your breaths came in pants, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably. Restraint fading as Toji nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there without biting.
"Let it out" he commanded softly, his voice laced with that assertive edge. The orgasm crashed over you, your body seizing as waves of pleasure rippled through your core.
You cried out, back bowing off the bed, but Toji held you down gently, riding out the tremors with steady strokes until you went limp.
But the relief was fleeting. The heat roared back, fiercer than before, leaving you hollow and aching.
"Toji," you gasped, turning in his arms to face him fully. Your hands roamed his chest, down to where his cock now fully erect behind his briefs, throbbing against the fabric.
"I need more please,"
His eyes searched yours, a flicker of concern beneath the hunger.
"We'll need to start slow" he said, gently cupping your face. "It'll fill you up, stretch you good. But I'll make sure it feels right. You trust me?"
"Yes," you breathed, nodding eagerly.
He guided you onto your back, settling between your legs.
His hands hooked under your knees, spreading you wide, exposing your dripping pussy to his gaze.
"Hold onto me," he instructed, positioning himself at your entrance.
The tip of his cock nudged your folds, parting them as he rocked his hips forward. Inch by inch, he sank in, the stretch intense, bordering on pain but laced with exquisite pleasure.
You whimpered, fingers digging into his biceps.
"Breathe through it,"he soothed, pausing halfway to let you adjust.
His hand stroked your thigh, thumb rubbing calming circles.
"You're doing so well. Halfway there. Push out a little--yeah, like that."
With a gentle thrust, he seated himself fully, his balls resting against your ass.
The fullness was overwhelming, your walls stretched taut around his girth, every vein pulsing inside you.
He stayed still, leaning down to finally capture your lips in a deep kiss, tongue sliding against yours in a mimicry of what his cock would soon do.
Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just a fraction before sliding back in, the drag sending shivers up your spine.
His pace was languid, each thrust measured, building the heat between you without overwhelming.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer.
Toji's hands braced on either side of your head, his muscles flexing with every roll of his hips. He kissed along your jaw, your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.
"Tell me how it feels," he murmured, voice husky.
"Does it feel good?"
'Yes,' you moaned, hips lifting to meet his. "M'so full... don't stop."
The softness of his dominance shone through--assertive in his control, but tender in his attention to your reactions. He angled his thrusts to hit that spot inside you repeatedly.
As your pleasure mounted, the heat demanded escalation. You clawed at his back, leaving red trails.
"Harder, Toji. I need it rougher. Please."
His response was immediate, eyes flashing with alpha instinct. Shifting his grip to your hips, fingers bruising as he lifted you slightly.
He pulled out nearly all the way, then slammed back in, the force jolting you up the bed.
The gentleness evaporated into raw power, his thrusts deep and punishing, cock pistoning into your pussy with relentless speed.
The bedframe rattled, headboard thumping against the wall in time with his hips. Toji's sweat dripped onto your breasts, mixing with yours as he fucked you harder, the slap of skin echoing loudly.
"Take it," he grunted, restraint completely gone as his hand slid up to pinch your nipple, twisting it sharply.
He flipped you suddenly, onto your stomach, yanking your hips up so you were on all fours. Re-entering you from behind, he set a brutal pace. Each thrust bottomed out, his balls slapping your clit, the sensation building to a fever pitch.
Toji's other hand reached around, fingers rubbing your swollen nub furiously. "Cum again," he demanded, voice rough with his own building release.
Your second orgasm hits walls convulsing around him, milking his length as you sobbed into the pillow.
Toji moaned, burying himself to the hilt and erupting, hot spurts of cum flooding your depths, marking you from the inside. He kept pumping through it, prolonging your bliss until you collapsed, spent.
Toji pulled out slowly, a gush of his seed following, then gathered you into his arms, spooning you close. His cock, still semi-hard, nestled against your ass.
"Rest a minute," he whispered
"We'll go again soon. I'm not letting this heat win without a fight."
You melted into him, the ache dulled for now, knowing he'd guide you through every wave. His hand stroked your hair, possessive yet gentle, as the night stretched ahead, filled with promises of more.
The minutes blurred into a haze of recovery, your body humming with aftershocks.
Toji's touch never strayed far, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm, keeping you grounded. But the heat was insatiable, stirring once more with a vengeance.
You shifted, pressing back against him, a soft plea on your lips.
"Again... I need you again."
He hummed in approval, rolling you onto your side to face him.
His cock had hardened fully against your thigh, ready for more. This time, he lifted your leg over his hip, entering you in one smooth glide, the angle allowing him to hit even deeper.
The stretch was easier now, your pussy accommodating his size with slick eagerness.
He started soft again, rocking into you with long, deliberate strokes, his free hand cupping your breast, thumb flicking the nipple.
"Feel how wet you still are?"
You clung to him, nails raking his shoulders, the intimacy of the position making every sensation more intense.
Toji's dominance asserted itself subtly at first--his hand guiding your hip to meet his thrusts, controlling the depth.
But as your moans grew louder, he flipped the script, pushing you onto your back once more and hooking your ankles over his shoulders.
The new angle folded you nearly in half, his cock plunging impossibly deep. "Hold on tight," he warned, then unleashed a barrage of rough thrusts, hips snapping with alpha ferocity.
The bed shook violently, your breasts bouncing with each impact.
Toji's hands pinned your thighs, keeping you open as he railed into you, grunts escaping his lips.
"Fuck, you're taking it so well."
Your hands fisted the sheets, body arching as the pressure built. Toji chased his own peak, thrusts erratic as he filled you again, cum overflowing and trickling down your ass.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you atop his chest, both of you panting.
Toji's arm banded around your waist, holding you possessively even in the quiet aftermath.
"Hey," he murmured, voice gravelly from hours of grunts and commands. His free hand came up to brush damp strands of hair from your forehead, fingers lingering to trace the curve of your cheek.
"You with me, omega?"
You blinked up at him, a lazy smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion. "Yeah... just floating." The heat had finally receded to a dull warmth in your core
Toji nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his green eyes.
His body was a map of your passion--red scratches down his back, bite marks on his shoulder where you'd sunk your teeth during one particularly brutal thrust.
But he moved with purpose, scooping you into his arms like you weighed nothing.
"Time to clean you up. Can't have you all messy."
You protested weakly, nestling into his neck, inhaling the comforting alpha scent that now carried traces of your own. 'M'fine... stay here.'
"Not fine. You're leaking my cum everywhere."
His tone held that soft assertiveness, brooking no argument
While the tub filled, Toji knelt before you, his large hands parting your thighs with care.
You winced slightly at the pull, your folds swollen and slick with his seed.
"Easy," he soothed, dipping a washcloth into the warm water and wringing it out. He pressed it gently between your legs, wiping away the sticky remnants with deliberate strokes.
You wake up warm and heavy, your cheek pressed to bare skin, an arm wrapped securely around your waist.
For a moment you don’t move. His heartbeat is slow under your ear. Steady and grounding. Then memory hits.
Heat floods your face.
You go still.
The arm around you tightens slightly.
“Relax,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
“You’re fine.”
Embarrassing how natural it feels to be here. Curled into him. “You okay?” he asks.
You nod against him. “Yeah. Better.”
A pause. “Good,” he says. After a second, you tilt your head up. Toji is already looking down at you, eyes heavy but focused.
“This is temporary, right?” you ask quietly.
His expression stills for a fraction of a second.
“Protocol is,” he answers. But his arm tightens around your waist anyway, keeping you close.
The apartment is too quiet. Toji stands in the kitchen, glass of water in his hand, staring at nothing while the back of his neck prickles.
Something feels off.
At first he thinks it’s leftover adrenaline. Lack of sleep. The stress from monitoring you all night.
Then he catches it. It's his own scent.
His jaw tightens. “…You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He sets the glass down slowly, palm flattening against the counter as awareness settles in his body like a switch flipping. Heat under his skin. Pulse heavier, and instinct sharpening at the edges.
Timing could not be worse. Not with you down the hall. Not when your heat just started stabilizing. Not when his control is already stretched thin.
Toji drags a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose.
If his rut hits while you’re still here… His eyes flick toward the hallway leading to your room.
“…Shit.”
And the realization lands all at once. It’s closer than he thought.
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