#And BOTH of these would get to be in love FINALLY

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[beloveds-embrace]

DUKEDOM!141 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (/nf please and thank you :])

Original post

Enjoy!! :D

Something all of them like to do is doll you up, and it becomes almost a private little routine between you and them.

John, as your husband (can you tell I love referring to him like this?), steadily takes control of deciding what you wear for the day even long before your request. It’s something that just… happens. He comes into your bedroom early in the mornings, and your maids scatter away to leave you both be with little giggles, excited at the prospect of you two finally getting ‘close’.

John doesn’t care for them. He greets you with a soft good morning (a few weeks later, he’d greet you the same but would gently caress your face with the back of his hand, the touch so gentle despite his roughened skin. It makes you into a blushing mess, though you tell yourself it’s just so that the peeking maids won’t suspect anything) and then goes straight to your closet, sweeping through the rows and rows of delicate, soft dresses with a discerning eye to select what attire you’ll wear for the day.

Of course, he does ask you what you feel like wearing, how you feel today in general, where you plan on going or meeting- everything to ensure the dress he’ll choose for you would be perfect. John doesn’t wait to see you in the dress, though.

He knows he’ll be seeing you all adorned and dressed up later, when you come down to dine with him. He can compliment you and pat himself on the back, then.

If he makes sure to match his cufflinks with the colors you are wearing, it will simply make whoever notice it think you two are such a lovely couple. And he still hopes that your maids will accidentally not tighten or cover up your hemline just so he can fix it himself for you.

John aside, Kyle takes care of your hair and jewelry. He makes you sit on the vanity, still alone and with none of your maids around, and then he begins the tender ritual of brushing your hair (if it’s not too curly for daily brushings). His hands, warm and careful and gentle, would then take care of oiling each strand. No oils or butters have been spared in the efforts of tending to you, and Kyle himself often turns the routine into a simple, but so effective, head massage session for you.

(Later, Kyle wonders what he needs to say and do to take over the job of the maids who help you bathe. You are always complimenting how good his hands feel on your hair, and he can show you how much better he is at using them for your body.)

Johnny eventually begins doing your makeup, on certain occasions. Once the truth comes out, the two of you are closer, and on one night, he tells you about his big family, his sisters and how they’d make him and his brothers help them get ready for events and parties.

It’s a simple question born out of your curiosity- what’s the makeup like where you were born, Johnny?- that has him in your bedroom often now, the other chefs taking care of the kitchen while his hands, clean and gentle, dab creams and whatnot on your face so delicately- like you are one of the cupacakes he decorates for your tea time.

He wants to kiss you so badly. You look so pretty like this, eyes closed and expression peaceful, patient and so trustful of his ministrations. He really, really wants to kiss you and see if the lipstick he’d applied on your pretty lips tastes as sweet as it smells.

Simon, though, is the one who slowly begins adding more and more to your dresses. John already supplies you with so much, but Simon is the one largely in charge of the silk and fabric importation and he knows well what styles will be popular next season, what styles will looks better on you and which colors suit you best. It’s not just dresses, but also matching fabrics and ribbons to go in your hair for when Kyle or your maids style, and for your pretty neck during more casual tea parties.

Not occasionally seeing you in the dresses he sends doesn’t bother him; you will be spoiling the others with the sight, and he can listen to them thank him in several ways afterwards and rest with the thought of you all dolled up, happy and thriving with them.

[willowsnook]

Done Waiting

Lando Norris x bsf!reader

She isn’t you

Hi, could I request a salami sandwich with tomato on wheat bread, please, and thank you. Request from @itsnotsophiasworld

—-------------------------------

MF: SOS, can anyone fly to Spain to check on Lando? From what I’ve gathered, he is staying in an Airbnb by himself and very much in his head. I’m caught up in some work stuff, or else I’d make the trip myself. 

Your heart sank reading Max's text to your friend group. Lando had been having a rough season and was constantly getting ripped apart in the media, no matter what he did. All you could do was make sure that he knew you were there for him and try to be around as much as possible, which was easy as you also lived in Monaco. But after the last race before summer break, none of you had heard from him. 

Looking at flights, you quickly replied to the group saying that you could go. One of the many perks of working remotely was that you could pick up your computer and go anywhere, so leaving to help Lando was a no-brainer. There was a flight leaving tonight, so you purchased that and started to pack. 

You wished the world could see him the way that you did. He was a caring, down-to-earth friend who would do anything for the people he loved. It was hard for anyone who knew him not to like him, and it was hard for you not to be in love with him. 

It hadn’t taken you long after meeting him to fall for his charm, but he had been dating someone else then, so you settled for friendship. That was three years ago, and you’d dated guys since, but the feelings still lingered. He could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, so it was easy to get sucked in. 

Ultimately, you valued your friendship too much to ever act on it, even when you were both single. You’d been through too much together to risk losing him. You had a hunch that he felt the same way about you because of how overly affectionate he was with you compared to everyone else and that you were usually his first call. Still, his life was busy, and you understood that a girlfriend didn’t fit in that picture right now. 

Landing in Spain around 10, you grabbed your luggage before jumping in a cab to the address Max had sent you. The Airbnb was a cute little beach cottage right on the ocean, and you inhaled a deep breath of salty air and instantly felt better. 

The door to the house swung open, and you were greeted by what seemed to be a very irritated Lando. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Making sure you don’t do something crazy,” you replied, mirroring him with his arms. 

“I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care.” 

You stared at each other for a while, neither one giving in before he finally sighed and moved past you to grab your suitcase, grumbling to himself. The cottage had windows on the backside, allowing a constant view of the ocean, which you could appreciate. Lando put my luggage in the guest room before joining me as you looked at the water. 

“You didn’t have to come; I’m fine,” he muttered. You looked over at him with a sad smile, reaching your hand down to grab his. 

“I wanted to come.” He gave you a small smile, and you took in his exhausted state, noting just how bad it really was. 

“Why don’t we get some rest? Then you’ll be ready for a full day tomorrow,” you suggested, and he looked over at you. 

“I’m here to relax, y/n,” he said, and you smiled mischievously. 

“It will be relaxing, I promise.”

It was not relaxing. 

You dragged Lando out of bed at 7 a.m. to go on a run, and he was not happy with you, but you were just happy he came along. Jogging through the little town, you could tell that his mood was improving as he kept pace with you. 

Out of breath, you were hunched over as you two had climbed to the top of a dune. 

“Are you not relaxed?” Lando teased, and you gave him the finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Yeah, I need to log on when we get back to the place,” you wheezed, and he handed you his water bottle. “What are your plans for while I work?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, scroll through social media hate, maybe watch all my old races and critique everything I did; the possibilities are endless.” 

Shooting him a look, you sighed, “That would be funny if I didn’t know you’d already been doing that.” 

He looked down at his feet, and you moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. His head found your shoulder, he breathed deeply, and you held on tighter. 

“You’re going to be okay Lan,” you said, looking up at him. 

“I know,” he said sadly. 

Lando spent the rest of the day in the water while you worked, slipping away to get groceries for the night. He hadn’t had time to hide all the takeout bags and boxes he had been surviving on, so you figured a homecooked meal would do him well. 

Having dealt with him being a picky eater for a while, you were finishing up your favorite spaghetti and meatballs recipe when he came back into the house. 

“Smells great,” he commented and you smiled. “Can we eat outside?”

“You read my mind,” you replied, plating the food. 

Eating on the back deck, you felt a sense of serenity as the sound of waves crashing filled your ears. 

“This place is amazing; how did you find it?” You asked, turning to Lando. 

“Honestly, I just opened the app and picked the first place I saw that looked secluded,” he admitted. “I just wanted to be away from everyone.” 

“We are here for you to lean on Lan,” you said softly. “I’m never going to leave you.” 

“I know that, but I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he confessed, and your heart sank. 

“Lando Norris,” you said, forcing him to look at you. “There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint me. I am so insanely proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Please come back to Monaco with me tomorrow.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered, holding out his arms. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair. 

“You buy me so much shit so I have to be nice to you,” you joked and he giggled. He pulled his head back to look at you, and your breath hitched because of the lack of distance between the two of you. Shifting, you tried to move back but his grip on you tightened so you leaned down to bring your lips to his. As you were a millimeter away his phone started to ring and you rested your head briefly against his, groaning internally. 

Sliding off of him you handed him his phone as it was Max calling. Hearing him tell Max he was coming home the next day made you smile, and you gathered all the dishes to clean up. He joined you a little later, and neither of you brought up the almost kiss; you wrote it off as something that happened in the heat of the moment. 

—------------------------------

Zandvoort was a dream, and you were so glad you made the trip with your friends. The next race you were going to was Singapore and Lando had invited you, Max, and some others to hang out the week before in Portugal. 

Your friend group had rented a big house, and you were ready to soak in the sun and relax after taking the week off work. Pietra and you had flown in together and met up with everyone that night at dinner. 

“Hi, I’m Mary,” a girl you didn’t recognize said to you, holding out her hand. You smiled back warmly, introducing yourself. 

“Mary and I met at a shoot early this year,” Pietra explained, and you nodded. You chatted with her for a while over dinner, glad to have another girl on the trip. 

You were less happy the next day when you watched this girl throw herself at Lando every chance she got. Right now, you were watching as she asked Lando how to show her how to hit the ball off the tee at the golf course where you guys were. 

“Ya know I went golfing with her two weeks ago, and she had a perfect swing,” Pietra muttered and you grimaced, watching Lando wrap his arms around the girl to guide her swing. It seemed like she would find a way to touch him no matter where you went. Up against him at dinner, clinging to him in the pool, leaning on him while you were watching a movie. 

At this point your jealousy was flaring up and you were trying to keep your composure, especially because this girl had been nothing but nice to you. What made it worse was that Lando entertained it, accepting her advances right in front of you. Your mind replayed that almost kiss back in Spain and the way the two of you had gotten closer since that trip. It had seemed to you that something was changing in your relationship, but clearly not. The whole trip you felt like your heart was being ripped apart and you were starting to wonder if you needed to take a break from being around him until you could get over your crush. 

Two nights before you were supposed to leave the group ended up at a club downtown as a pre-celebration for what you predicted would be a Lando win in Singapore. Rounds and rounds of shots were taken and you were dancing with Pietra on the dance floor trying to have a good time. 

You briefly glanced back at the VIP section, and your stomach dropped. Mary was sitting on Lando’s lap, and you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Water instantly filled your eyes, and Pietra looked concerned before following your gaze. She looked at you with such sadness that you decided then and there that you were done. 

Leaving the club you walked back to the Airbnb alone. You weren’t sure if it was your drunkenness or just the emotional exhaustion of the situation but you started to get angry. Time after time, you were there for him and this is what you got back. It would be different if he had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested but he didn’t do that. He slept in your bed back in Monaco on nights like these, he spoiled you constantly with gifts, and you knew that he had told other drivers on the grid to back off from you, laying a claim. 

God, you were so fucking over it. 

You gathered all your stuff and threw it in your suitcase, calling for a cab to take you to the airport. You made it down the stairs just as Max was coming in. His face fell as he saw your bag. 

"No y/n don’t go,” he pleaded, and you shook your head, already feeling tears start to fill your eyes. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore Max,” you said, voice cracking. “I have to protect my heart.” 

“You know he loves you,” he said moving towards you to hold you. “Everyone knows that.” 

“If that’s true, why have I watched him with her this whole weekend? Why did I just watch him sit there when she stuck her tongue down his throat right in front of me,” you yelled and Max stayed silent. “Exactly. I need some space to figure out how things can move forward between us.” 

Max helped you carry your bag outside and the two of you stood silently waiting for the car. Just as it pulled up, Lando walked up to the house, alone. 

“Y/N!” He called out, not seeing your suitcase yet. “Where’d you run off too? I was looking for you.” 

You turned around and his eyes widened seeing your tear stained face, his gaze flickering down to your bag. 

“What’s going on?” He asked hoarsely and you just shook your head turning back to get into the car before you started to sob. 

“Let her go mate,” you heard Max tell him and you looked out the window to see him holding Lando back. The sight made you cry harder as the car finally drove off. 

Lando’s POV

Watching the car disappear down the street, Lando turned to Max, panic and confusion colliding in his mind.

“Why is she leaving, Max? What the hell happened?”

Max let out a sigh, his eyes searching Lando’s face with a mix of frustration and pity. “Mate, she’s in love with you. And honestly, you’re in love with her too, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

Lando froze, the weight of Max’s words hitting him harder than he expected. He thought of all the moments he spent with you—the late-night talks, the shared laughter, the comforting silence. He thought about how he’d let Mary get close, but each time she reached for him, a nagging feeling crept up inside him.

She isn’t you.

The thought was so painfully clear now. It didn’t matter how kind or fun Mary was—she wasn’t you. And suddenly, he realized why none of it felt right.

“I need to go,” Lando said suddenly. “I need to go to the airport.” 

He took off down to the main street hailing a cab but when he finally got there, you were gone. 

—--------------------------------------------

You skipped the Singapore GP. You didn’t even watch it on tv so you didn’t know why everyone was wondering why despite winning, Lando looked miserable standing on the podium. 

He had texted you a million times begging you to call him but you declined the call everytime. You were trying to move on. You’d started running again in the mornings, working out of coffee shops,  and hanging out with your girlfriends. Basically you were doing everything in your power to not think of him; and it worked until 10pm each night. Then you were miserable. 

It was two weeks after Singapore when you heard knocking at your door one evening. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were especially surprised to see Oscar standing on the other side of your door. Considering he didn’t live in Monaco, you didn’t really know what to say, just stared at him silently. 

“May I come in?” He asked politely and you nodded, stepping aside to let him through. “Nice apartment.”

“Thanks,” you replied following him into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

He settled down on your couch, motioning for you to join him and you sunk down on the other side. 

“I need you to tell me what happened when you and Lando were in Portugal,” he said slowly and you immediately looked away. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, playing with your hands. 

“It does matter,” Oscar insisted. “It’s okay if you finally rejected him but I need to know how to fix him.”

Your head snapped up, “I didn’t reject him Oscar. He basically rejected me.” 

“There’s no way,” Oscar said, shocked and you told him everything that had happened from you flying to Spain for him to him making out with that girl at the club. 

“Trust me when I say that I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, but I feel like this is a big misunderstanding,” Oscar said and you rolled your eyes. “He is so in love with you y/n. All he does is talk about you.”

“Then why did he never tell me!” You said, voice rising. “I’ve been there the whole time Oscar, and he has never said anything. I want to be with someone who isn’t afraid to love me.” 

Oscar’s heart broke at your words, knowing you were feeling this way. 

“I came here y/n, because he is a mess without you,” he said. “I’ve never seen him like this and it’s starting to affect his racing so I’m begging you to at least think about talking to him.” 

—-------------------------------------

You would have thought that Lando would stop texting after a while but he didn’t. Every morning he texted you “good morning” and gave you updates on his day even though you weren’t responding. His plan seemed to be to slowly chip away at you until you were ready to come back and unfortunately it was working. 

Brazil was the next race that your friend group was attending and you went back and forth on what you should do before finally deciding to book a flight. Max must have told Lando because you immediately were notified that your flight had been upgraded and your hotel had been booked. 

Because of a work event, you weren’t going to be able to get there until Saturday night and probably wouldn’t see Lando until qualifying or after the race. You joined Max and Pietra on the track, bright and early on Sunday morning and you were wondering how Lando would survive with it being this early in the morning. 

Oscar gave you a big hug when he saw you and you could tell he was incredibly relieved that you were there. Qualifying was 20 minutes away and you heading towards the Paddock club when you turned a corner and were immediately wrapped up in two arms. Inhaling his familiar scent, you relaxed into his touch. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he said into your ear and you hummed in reply. You were still unsure about pretending like nothing ever happened. He pulled back to look at you and his excitement was contagious, pulling a small smile out of you. 

“We’ll talk later okay?” He asked and you nodded. “I have a lot of things I need to say to you.”

He kissed your forehead before running off and you tried to keep your cool. Qualifying was good for him and you were feeling good about the race but a little nervous about the weather conditions. 

Sitting with Max and Pietra in the paddock club the mood was very much anxious. Lando had been doing great until a red flag reset everything. He had fallen down because of pitting and you watched as he went off the track on that first turn, your heart sinking. The rest of the race was a blur and he finished in P6 which you knew would not go over well with him. 

After the race, you felt hesitant heading back to the McLaren hospitality area. You weren’t sure if he’d want to see you, especially in his disappointment. But as you lingered by the entrance, you caught sight of him. Lando was drenched, exhausted, and his usual radiant energy seemed dimmed. Still, he locked eyes with you, a faint smile managing to pull at the corner of his lips.

He walked over slowly, stopping right in front of you. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did, Lando,” you replied softly, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in. “I always do.”

He nodded, then glanced around at the crowded area. “Can we go somewhere… quieter?”

You followed him through the paddock until you found yourselves outside in a secluded spot overlooking the track. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Lando took a deep breath.

“I was an idiot,” he began, voice raw with honesty. “You don’t know how many times I replayed that trip to Portugal, thinking about what I could’ve done differently. I didn’t understand how much it would hurt you… I was blind to everything but my own mess.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, unable to hold back.

“You’ve been the best part of my life for years, and it took almost losing you to realize how much I’d taken you for granted. I’m sorry, y/n. I thought I was protecting you by not… admitting how I feel. I thought if I never said it out loud, maybe it’d hurt less. But I can’t pretend anymore. I love you.”

Hearing those words, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack, the anger and disappointment from before softening as you looked into his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered and he gave you a soft smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.” 

When he kissed you, it was tender and full of all the unspoken words and missed opportunities between you. As you pulled away, you both smiled, feeling the weight of the past couple of weeks finally lift.

[milkbobatyun]

the dangers of a slipper

pairing: jingyuan x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack

summary: slippers are a dangerous weapon, even more so when you're the one holding it

word count: 704

a/n: wrote this cus i was inspired by that one meme of the mom scolding the son and the father intervening, but both end up being scolded.

he should’ve known that he was going to be in trouble, the moment he let yanqing run off and go fight in such a dangerous duel. word travelled fast in the xianzhou, so it was no surprise that the moment yanqing and the general stepped into the house, they were in danger.

“yan. qing.” your stern voice calls from the top of the stairs. a shiver of fear runs down the boy’s spine at your tone. sure, he was the strongest swordsman of all of xianzhou, but even so, he was terrified of his mother figure.

hanging his head guiltily, yanqing steps forwards, not daring to make eye contact with you.

from the side, jingyuan watches yanqing get scolded by you, his eyes are filled with mirth and amusement as he relishes in the drama. yanqing, kneeling obediently at your feet, head bowed in shame, shoots pleading looks at jingyuan.

finally, jingyuan decides to step in, trying to save his trusted little aide from your fearful wrath. with a sigh and subtle shake of his head, jingyuan steps into the firing line your line of sight.

“now now love,” he began, voice smooth, though his hands were clammy with fear. “yanqing is quite capable. after all, his master is yours truly.” he boasted, puffing his chest out in confidence.

unfortunately for him, he doesn’t win the fight. instead, he finds himself a victim of the deadly slipper, a swift but light bop to his head sening him dropping to his knees, mirroring yanqing’s posture of submission. his joy has been knocked off into one of sheepish submission.

anyone who sees such a scene would find it hilarious. the most powerful swordsman and the dozing general of xianzhou, both quiet and docile as they listen to your scolding. the proud, young swordsman and jingyuan, fearless dozing general, forced into reflection under your watchful gaze and the threat of the merciless slipper.

jingyuan, who finds the courage to lift up his head, assuring you that it wasn’t a big deal. his only response is another ruthless bonk on the head from your slipper. silenced and cowed, he lowers his head again, quietly reflecting on his actions. to yanqing, jingyuan can only offer a meek smile, as his hand rubs the tender spot where your slipper had made its mark.

to add salt to his wounds, even the general’s ever-loyal companion had betrayed his trust. when jingyuan spots his loyal companion, mimi, pass by, he shoots her a pleading look, hoping that she would bravely put herself between her owner and the threatening lady looming over them.

to his hurt and disbelief, mimi spares him a single glance of disinterest, before turn her tail and plopping down beside your feet with a huff of disapproval, even going as far as shooting him a condescending glare. jingyuan’s shoulders slump, the fight fleeing his posture.

how heartwrenching. 

“mimi,” jingyuan groaned in exasperation. “what have i ever done to wrong you? did your mother give you more treats behind my back again?”

as though to mock him, mimi rubs lovingly against your leg, glee sparkling in her mischievous eyes. the large, white lion lets out a yawn, snuggling closer, as though saying, “you might’ve raised me, but boss lady here is better than you.”

letting out a dramatic gasp, jingyuan feigns a collapse. unfortunately for him, it doesn’t give him extra sympathy points. instead, he receives another repremanding whack from the slipper.

yanqing spares a single side-eye at his general, pity and suppressed amusement dancing across his face. it seemed that even the general was powerless in the face of big boss. with a pout, jingyuan sat back onto his knees, the duo casting looks of mutual pity at each other.

‘boss lady is scary,’ they telepathically communicated, determination etched on their faces. ‘next time, let’s not get caught.’

thwack. thwack.

“i know what the two of you are thinking.” you warned, slipper pointed at their faces. “don’t you dare, i’ll have mimi watch you and keep you out of trouble.”

tomorrow morning, the duo would have to explain why they have matching bumps on their head.

how embarrassing for them. well, maybe they should’ve thought twice before being stupid.

footnotes:

1. the image i was talking about:

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

▻ Golden Cufflinks ↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ Best Friend's Fiance, Strangers to True Mates ⤜ A/B/O AU | angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 11,742 ⤜ Summary: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of designation hierarchy, mild talk of misogynistic practices of the past, confessions of cheating(not by main pairing), anger/arguments, kissing, dick sucking, mild cum intrigue, maybe mild breeding kink if you squint, unprotected v. sex, knotting, lots of slick and cum

Written for @hisunshiine as part of the 2nd Quarter 2023 @bangtanwritershq Awards Season! A/N: Congratualtions, Vanessa. You deserve all the kudos for a job well done during the 2nd Quarter 2023, I hope you enjoy the story!

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi, @lo1k-diamonds, @moonleeai for the amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Nerves flutter in your belly as you gather your belongings from the plastic bin at the end of the rolling conveyor belt on the other side of security. As you walk away, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you have to juggle your purse and jacket to retrieve it.

You feel bad for making Hayun, your best friend for as long as you can remember, wait for a response, but you desperately just want to find your gate and have a seat first. Once you find it and settle in at a chair by the big windows looking out on the tarmac, you thumb to her contact.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you right now for making me wait so long for a response,” Hayun sasses before her voice softens, “Hello, I love you.”

“Love you, too, girl,” you say, unable to help the smile that tilts your lips up. “Sorry, I’ve been MIA for the last few hours. Things have been hectic. I misplaced my passport this morning, but I finally found it under the bed and then missed the hotel shuttle. I had to call a rideshare, but of course, it took them forever to get through airport traffic, and ugh…” you trail off with a sigh. “I’m sitting down for the first time since I woke up this morning.”

Which was approximately four hours ago at this point. Your flight is set to take off less than an hour from now, so you imagine boarding might start soon. You’re not exaggerating when you say it’s been hectic. It was bad enough waking up at 3 AM, but you’re a chronic planner and stickler for time, so missing your flight was the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m glad it’s all worked out, though. I really can’t wait to see you!”

The conversation passes quickly, easing your heart and mind as you catch up on the last twenty-four hours. You haven’t seen Hayun in a handful of years. Her career took her to the other side of the world, and yours kept you where you both grew up. The last time you saw her was through a haze of tears at this very airport when she boarded a plane destined for Seoul, South Korea, where she was adopted from at just two years old.

Visiting each other was always something you both talked about. But, as with most things, life just happens, and eventually, you find yourself making that visit you always talked about for reasons you never considered before—like your best friend tying the knot with a guy you’ve never met.

Sure, you’ve seen pictures of him and have heard him talk in the background of most of the phone calls you’ve exchanged with Hayun over the last few years. But, it was never on your friendship bingo card that the next time you’d find yourself seeing your best friend, it would be her at her wedding.

“I gotta go. They’re about to start boarding.”

“I’ll see you when you land. Can’t wait!”

Hayun disconnects the call, and you gather your belongings to prepare to line up in the boarding queue. It will be a long flight, but seeing Hayun again after so long apart will be worth it.

You fiddle with the bracelet on your left wrist, twisting and pinching at the silver moon charm dangling from the thin chain. Hayun has a matching one. They were presents from your parents on the day you were both recognized with your designations; she was thirteen, and you were fifteen.

The dynamics of Alphas and Omegas have long since changed from what it once was. Legend has it that once upon a time, an Alpha and an Omega were closer to their wolf-kin than how the world is now. Thanks to evolution and science, the only things remaining from that time are the more basic bodily functions—scents, knots, and slick, to sum it up.

The crescent charm on your wrist symbolizes your designation—Omega. But being an Omega doesn’t hold much meaning for you. You don’t feel all that special, and it’s not like you’re rare or any more or less capable than the next person. As it stands, you can see at least a dozen other moons jangling from bracelets, waiting to board the same plane you are.

There are also necklaces, tattoos, and other ways to display a designation scattered around the waiting area. The how of it is mostly regional, sometimes generational. The Beta standing behind you in the queue has a teardrop earring dangling from their left ear, and if it weren’t for the pheromone blockers you took this morning, you might be able to smell their unique scent.

You also have your own smell, a scent that is just you. You’ve been told it’s a sweet, citrusy bouquet like lemonade on a hot summer afternoon. However, also thanks to the blockers, it remains suppressed to the point someone would have to make you bleed or press their nose so firmly against your throat it hurts to smell it.

There really is only one thing that a lot of people are envious of when it comes to an Omega’s designation, and that is that they supposedly have an Alpha true mate out there somewhere that will call to their baser nature. It’s such a rare phenomenon these days that it might as well be part of the legends of old, too.

The bottom line is that no one cares about subgenders anymore; it doesn't matter whether your charm is the Omega crescent, the teardrop of a Beta, or the triskelion denoting an Alpha. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could ask the Beta for their earring and offer them your charm bracelet and no one would bat an eye over it.

Though you’d never do that, considering the chain around your wrist isn’t technically yours. The night after you presented as Omega, when you snuck away with Hayun to lay on a blanket under the stars and moon that was so like the charm hanging from your twin bracelets, you giggled as you exchanged them. Her tiny fingers trembled against your wrist as she secured her silver chain around it. You did the same with your own around hers a second later.

It was that night that you both swore always to be friends. No matter what happened in life or where either of you ended up, you would always remain true to one another. So far, your friendship has been unfailing, a constant thread of comfort and light for you both. No matter how long it’s been, the charm still smells faintly of your best friend—a perk of the charms themselves, holding a token essence of their owners. Hers holds a soft lilac and jasmine scent that you’ve always thought complimented your own citrus notes.

The flight attendant scanning boarding passes beckoning you forward breaks you out of your internal reflections. With a full heart and giddy anticipation curling in your belly, you find your seat and settle in.

It’s a long flight, longer than most flights you’ve taken. But when you finally walk off the plane, make it through customs and immigration, and finally empty into the arrivals terminal of the Incheon Airport, you feel immediate relief, and the hours spent in the air don’t seem so bad.

“Hey, over here!” a familiar voice calls out, catching your attention.

You spin on your heel, confusion setting in for just a moment before it’s replaced by another wave of relief and a little of something warmer. Taehyung, Hayun’s adopted brother, swamps you in a giant bear hug that quite literally sweeps you off of your feet.

“Wow, hey. This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Where’s Hayun?”

Taehyung scrunches up his face, letting out a small scoff. “It’s a good surprise, I hope. Something came up, and she had to meet with the wedding planner and caterer at the last minute. She called me and asked if I could pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” you confirm with a smile. “Good surprise.”

It’s no secret that you’ve always been fond of Taehyung. As a baby, you were toddling around with him long before his family adopted Hayun. She ended up being the sister you never knew you needed, even if you were a few years older.

When she moved to Seoul for work, Taehyung ended up being the physical representation that took her place. He flew out a week before you to help her with planning and will stay for a few weeks after you’ve already headed back home. They may have had their differences over the years, but their sibling bond is stronger than petty arguments and rivalries.

“Ready to get on the road? It’s a long drive.”

Hours later, with the rolling countryside and farms dotting the horizon, you discover the fiasco inside your backpack. The bottle of pheromone blockers you packed this morning somehow got shuffled to the bottom of your bag and popped open. The once-powder-filled capsules litter the bottom of your bag, broken open. Pale blue powder coats your things, the mild flower smell of the medicine lingering in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you groan. “Any chance there’s a clinic somewhere between here and where we’re going?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He frowns, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, making the triskelion signet ring on his index finger glitter in the mid-day sun. “We’d probably have to turn around and head nearly three hours back to get anywhere near a clinic with blockers. I'm told most people don’t use them anymore these days here. Maybe another one of the wedding party might have some you could borrow if you really need them. But, honestly, I don’t see anyone minding if you don’t use them.”

“Most people here don’t use them anymore?”

“Well, yeah, with the progression of equality and things like that. They’re so great here, way more progressive than back home. It’s very common for Omegas to go off of blockers or never even begin them. Laws have been implemented to punish Alphas who can’t control themselves. The responsibility of remaining safe shouldn’t be solely set on the shoulders of the Omega population.”

Talk like that has only recently become popular back home. You’ve heard the speeches and followed the media and the sources, but you suppose after nearly half of your life taking blockers, it just comes naturally to continue to do so.

“Hm, yeah, okay. I guess it’s no big deal, really. As long as you’re sure people won’t mind?”

Taehyung sniffs the air, his nose twitching. “I think you smell great, but just in case not everyone does, if someone says something, then I’ll personally drive all the way back to the city and pick you up some,” Taehyung promises, giving you one of his swoon-worthy smiles.

The crush you once upon a time had on Taehyung threatens to spark anew at the sight of his charming, boxy grin—a grin you would have once done anything to pull from him. But now, it just fills you with warmth and a homey comfort.

You give him a smile of your own. “Deal.”

“Hayun!”

Her squeal of delight when she turns around and catches sight of you echoes through the open space of the dimly lit bar of the bed and breakfast where the wedding is taking place.

It’s a cozy space with rich dark wood accents and royal blue velvet upholstery. Brass gas lamps and light fixtures give the entire lounge an upscale and chic atmosphere that you know is right up Hayun’s alley.

The few hours you had between checking in at the bed and breakfast and meeting Hayun for her very small—just you and one other person—bachelorette party were spent familiarizing yourself with the grounds.

The ceremony will take place in one of the lavish gardens, and the reception will follow in one of the grand dining halls. For a bed and breakfast, it’s far fancier than any you’ve ever been to. It definitely does not have the mom-and-pop feel that you typically associate with the term ‘B&B’.

“You’re here!” she shrills, throwing her arms around your neck.

Her petite form fits just like it always has against yours. Thick black hair, shorter than the last time you saw it, curls around the rounded lines of her cheeks, and her brown eyes are bright and glisten with happy tears. With her bubbly personality and small, wispy frame, she's always reminded you of a fairy.

You sigh, taking a deep breath and savoring your best friend's soft, floral scent. Thanks to the bracelet tinkling around her wrist, it holds the smallest undercurrent of your sweet citrus. Clearly, she’s not taking blockers; the scents are heavy and delightful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hayun sucks in a deep breath that mirrors yours. “Wow, babe, you smell good! Finally gone off the blockers, huh?”

“Uh, kind of,” you chuckle, untangling yourself from her arms. “I brought some, but they broke open in my bag at some point.” You shrug. “Tae said it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not. Absolutely not,” Hayun agrees, grinning broadly. “I’ve been off them for years and haven’t had a single issue. Come on, let’s have a drink and catch up!”

You settle in at a table, and it’s not long before Eunseo, Hayun’s other guest, joins you. You’ve heard a lot about Eunseo. Much the same way Taehyung took the place of Hayun for you, Eunseo took your place for Hayun. You half expect to feel some sort of friendship jealousy upon meeting Eunseo for the first time, but it doesn’t come. If anything, you’re immediately fond of the young woman.

The evening carries on, Hayun and Eunseo regaling you with tales from working together and their various adventures around Seoul. Eunseo shows genuine interest in your life back home, seeming eager to hear stories of Hayun’s childhood. She shows a particular interest in Taehyung, asking you in no certain terms more than you think is appropriate to share.

“But you’ve seen it, right?” Eunseo asks. Her elbows rest on the table, and her chin is nestled on her clasped hands, her eyes wide and glassy from the countless glasses of wine she’s had. “I bet it’s huge. Am I right?”

“Ugh,” Hayun groans. “Can we not talk about my brother’s dick. Please.” She makes a gagging sound before slurping down the rest of her cocktail and flagging down a passing waiter for another.

You try to wave off the waiter, but he’s turned toward the bar before you can get his attention. If Hayun has much more to drink, you’re not sure she’ll be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow unassisted.

“I’m just curious. It’s a harmless question,” Eunseo pouts. “Ignore her. Tell me. I just have to know.”

You swirl the straw around in your glass of water before giving Eunseo what you hope is a conspiratorial look. “Well—”

“What?! Ew. Are you really about to answer her? Please, dear god, do not tell me you have seen my brother’s penis. If you’ve seen it—fuck, I might actually puke.”

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you laugh, which earns further protests and obscene noises from Hayun.

“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that maybe Eunseo should ask him herself.”

Hayun howls a protest, sloshing her new cocktail onto the table as she gesticulates a crude hand gesture in your direction. “Do not. I repeat, do not do that, Eunseo!”

The conversation peters off, Hayun losing herself in another cocktail while Eunseo stares dreamily up at the ceiling.

“I think—hiccup—it's bedtime,” Eunseo slurs.

As if right on cue, a familiar face peeks through the entrance to the lounge. You wave Taehyung down, and he comes jogging across the space to your table. His shirt is rumpled with the top few buttons undone, but his eyes are clear, and you know he’ll be a perfect gentleman.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, pitching your voice low.

“I got this, don’t worry. We finished up a few hours ago anyway.”

Taehyung gives you a warm, private smile before turning to Eunseo. “Hey there, beautiful. Let’s get you on to bed, okay?”

“Where’s my savior?” Hayun asks, frowning after her brother escorting Eunseo from the lounge and back through the front lobby.

“Right here,” you tell her, sliding out of your chair and coming around to her side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes you more than twice as long as it usually would to get to Hayun’s room. She leans against the wall in the hall as you dig through her pockets in search of her room key. Once you find it tucked between a few stray bills and her ID, you usher her into the room and deposit her onto the bed.

Her fiance has a room on the other side of the grounds, but after the ceremony, they will both be moving into one of the couple’s suites for the night before jet-setting off to Jeju Island for their week-long honeymoon.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Hayun’s question catches you off guard. You throw a confused look at her over your shoulder as you rummage through her suitcase in search of something for her to sleep in.

“What?”

She sighs as she rolls over, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed so she can look at you upside down. “Marrying Jungkook. It’s a mistake…so why am I doing it?”

“Hayun…what are you talking about? Jungkook is perfect for you. You guys have been dating for five years, and you told me you’ve never been happier. Where’s the mistake in that?”

The sound Hayun makes is akin to something a wounded animal might make. She flops, flailing her arms and legs like a child throwing a fit.

“That’s the thing, though! I’m happy, but I don’t love him. Oh god,” she cries. “I don’t love him.”

“Hey, hey now.” You abandon the search for sleeping clothes and crawl across the floor until you’re kneeling beside the bed. Smoothing your hand across her forehead, you ask, “Where is all this coming from?”

“He thinks I’m his true mate,” she whispers. The tears leaking from her eyes slide up her face, wetting the edges of her eyebrows before sliding over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. “But I know he’s not mine.”

“Wh—wait, what?” You push up from the floor and move onto the bed, gathering your best friend’s head into your lap so she’s no longer hanging upside down off the side of the bed.

She hiccups a sob, lips trembling as she explains, “He says I’m his true mate, that he knows because of my scent. But he doesn’t smell special to me…how is that possible?”

“Hayun, I don’t—”

“I cheated on him,” she whimpers in confession, cutting off what were going to be your soothing words of affirmation. They sour on your tongue, refusing to be released now.

Your stomach churns at her admittance. “You what?”

“You have every right to judge me. I’m a terrible person. But, when he told me I was his true mate…I panicked. I had to be sure I wasn’t broken, that me not finding his scent special wasn’t just something wrong with me.” Hayun blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears as they begin to come in earnest. She clutches at the front of her shirt, hand fisting over her heart. “So, I slept with two Alphas that I work with to see if it was any different. I had to be sure. I had to know.”

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs, curling in on you and pressing her face against your stomach. “I don’t deserve him. I only said yes to marrying him because I don’t want to be alone forever. I can’t be like you. I need someone.”

Her words sting, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You watch as she falls apart in your lap, ultimately giving in to her grief. It’s on the tip of your tongue to call her out on her childish behavior, to set the record straight about your own love life, and to leave her to her wallowing. But…the shaking of her shoulders and soft whines from her remind you so much of a younger and more fragile Hayun—the Hayun of your shared childhoods.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” No matter how you might feel about her actions and the hurtful words she’s spilled, you hate to see your best friend so distraught and broken. “Hey, look at me.”

You wait until her watery eyes peel away from your shirt and meet yours. “Tell me you hate me; it’s okay.”

“Hayun, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You made…a mistake, that’s all. You were trying to figure things out. But…Hayun, you…you have to tell him.”

She frowns up at you, her expression sobering. “Tell him?”

“He’s about to marry you, Hayun. That’s a big freaking deal…you have to tell him tomorrow morning before anything else happens.”

The laugh that bubbles from her lips is anything but humorous. “I-I can’t do that! He’ll hate me. He’ll call the wedding off!” She shoves out of your lap and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“If Jungkook truly loves you and says you’re his true mate, I don’t see that happening. But, he deserves to know. You have to know that. Either you tell him now, or he finds out years from now, and then it’ll be so much worse,” you try to reason with her.

“He doesn’t have to know!” she whisper-yells, her tears turning from sad to angry in an instant.

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing from her. “This isn’t right, Hayun. You can’t go into a marriage with someone with secrets like that!”

“It’s not like it’ll happen again. I’m not going to cheat on him while we’re married. Please,” she begs, her face once more softening into saddened anguish. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He deserves to know, Hayun,” you whisper, remembering your own keen sting of betrayal from many years ago. There is a reason you don’t date much. “You say it won’t happen again?” you ask, trying to buy yourself some time to process everything Hayun just told you.

Her silence is deafening, and you think she’s about to not answer you the way you hope, but, finally, she murmurs, “No. Never. I swear it.”

“Okay. Okay, good. But, he still needs to know.”

Just because you’ve never actually met Jungkook, it doesn’t mean you don’t care for him. He’s the one who puts a smile on Hayun’s face when you can’t. He’s the reason she’s as happy as she is…or has been? Now, you’re not so sure. But, what you are certain about is that Hayun is far too drunk right now to know up from down and is just having a moment of raw vulnerability.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before slowly shaking your head. Thinking about it, even if you didn’t care for Jungkook, he still deserves to know on pure principle. “No. I won’t tell him.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief, which has you tacking on, “Because it’s not my place to tell him, it’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Okay.” She doesn’t say anything more beyond that, falling into a listless stupor, all of her energy sapped from the quick argument and endless cocktails from the bar.

After you wrestle her out of her clothes and put on a long nightgown, she tucks easily into bed. You leave a glass of water on the bedside table for her, then exit the room and head to your own.

A pang of uncertainty refuses to quell in the pit of your stomach. You toss and turn most of the night, falling into a fitful sleep just before the sun begins to kiss the horizon. It’s going to be a long day…a battle of wills you never saw coming.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

Today is the big day, and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Nothing could possibly bring him down from the high he’s feeling. Not even the fact that he is unable to find the cufflinks that were passed down to him by his father.

“Did you check the pockets of all your pants?” Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, asks from where he’s lounging in one of the chairs on the other side of Jungkook’s hotel room.

“Yes,” he mutters, dumping his entire suitcase onto the bed to rifle through it once again. “I remember putting them with the pile of Hayun’s—oh fuck.”

“That’s great,” Taehyung sighs. “So my sister probably has them.” He checks his watch. “We don’t really have time to go on a scavenger hunt through her room. Jimin and I are supposed to meet the photographer to get started on some of the bride and groomsmen shots.”

Jungkook purses his lips and rakes his hands through his hair as he thinks of a solution. “I’d go look myself, but what if I run into Hayun between here and there? She specifically requested that we not see each other until the ceremony.”

Taehyung hums lightly. “I think I have an idea. The other girls don’t meet for pictures until after we’re done. So…yeah…okay…done,” he murmurs, tapping away at his phone screen. “If they’re in Hayun’s things, they’ll be delivered to you soon.”

“Thanks, Taehyung, you’re a lifesaver.”

Minutes later, Jungkook finds himself alone, Taehyung and Jimin having gone to meet with the photographer. Somewhere out there, beyond the confines of his room, his fiancee is probably smiling and laughing as she poses in front of the camera. If only Jungkook could see through walls. He’d give anything for even just a little glimpse of his bride-to-be.

When Jungkook first met Hayun almost six years ago, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to track her scent. The meeting he was heading for was instantly forgotten, replaced by a visceral need to discover the source of that titillating aroma that had his hindbrain firing on all cylinders.

Never before had Jungkook experienced something so…primal. It was both alarming and utterly fascinating. Amongst the harsh scents of car exhaust and the warm notes of roasted coffee, Jungkook wove his way through the crowd on the sidewalk to the doors of a little cafe; Hayun was inside, ordering a matcha tea to-go, and the rest was history.

Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to stop daydreaming and fiddling with his shirt's empty cuffs and focus on putting together the rest of his suit.

The scent hits Jungkook a moment before the sound of a soft knock reaches his ears. He’s standing in the ensuite bathroom, mid-skin care routine. Wiping his wet fingers off onto a towel, he draws in a deep breath to confirm the aroma wafting to him from beyond the door of his room.

A roguish smirk quirks up one side of his mouth as he exits the bathroom and moves across the room. Unable to help himself, he opens the door. “Hayun,” he chuckles, fingers wrapping around the doorknob, “I thought we agreed that you…you are not Hayun.” The words tumble from his suddenly numb lips, rasping past his too-dry tongue.

“Umm, no. Not Hayun, sorry. You’re Jungkook?”

The woman standing before him is clearly not his fiancee. The woman’s purple gown is familiar, Jungkook knowing it’s what Hayun chose for her attending party. You’re a friend of Hayun, clearly, yet you smell exactly like Hayun…if Hayun smelled like Hayun times a thousand. The fragrance slams into his olfactory system, and the edges of his vision grow blurry a moment before he shakes his head and steadies himself with a hand on the doorjamb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice raspy with his suddenly dry throat. Revelations pounding him right between the eyes, washing through his body and keying right into his most basic of instincts.

Jungkook watches as your nostrils flare, and he knows it’s in that moment that you register his cedar and lavadin scent; the scent that marks him for what—who—he is.

“Jungkook,” you repeat his name, and he wants to howl with delight at how it sounds coming from your lips. “No. You can’t…it’s not—” your voice cuts off a second before you drop the small, black leather box you were holding and turn, disappearing in a flash of violet tulle and silk.

🥀🥀🥀

“Stop! Wait, please!” The shout of your name follows you down the hall, but you’re too focused on getting as far away from him and the feelings threatening to overwhelm you as you can.

“No, no, no,” you chant under your breath as you move as swiftly as the slippered feet will allow you to go without tripping yourself up.

It’s clearly not fast enough. It only takes a few frantic beats of your heart before a firm grip on your elbow draws you to a stumbling halt. The touch is electric, and your skin flushes with goosebumps at the heated contact.

“Don’t run,” Jungkook pants. “Please.”

You wretch your arm from his grip and whirl on him, a sharp remark ready on the tip of your tongue. Only, it dies there, never to be uttered, as your heart thumps violently in response to the look on his face—pure anguish.

Your voice is thread-thin as you finally manage to get words out, “This can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, his lips tucked between his teeth. His emotions are stark on his face, and the conflict is raw and bare to you. Clearly, he’s warring the same as you, maybe even more so.

“Why do you smell like Hayun?” he asks, his voice soft in contrast to the raging storm you see in his eyes. “Why do you smell more like my true mate than she even does? Is this some wicked, cruel prank?”

You shake your head, intentionally drawing a breath through your mouth in hopes of saving your nose from another assault of his perfect scent. But, instead, his flavor laces over your tongue and slides down your throat to sit like a knot in your belly. You might as well have licked a stripe up his neck for all the good that did.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to keep the pool of saliva under your tongue from dripping down your chin.

Jungkook steps closer to you, leading with his nose. He sniffs the air around you and something must not sit well with what he discovers because he rears back and bares his teeth. “Of course,” he mutters as his eyes drop to your left wrist.

Your eyes track his movement as he scoops up your wrist in a loose grip, and you realize it’s the bracelet there that has his attention. Everything clicks into place, and you feel like the faintest breeze could sweep you away with how lightheaded you’re feeling at this moment.

“We traded,” you whisper as if speaking low enough means the admission won’t utterly destroy the world as you know it.

“She’s not my true mate,” he states, voice as low as yours, fevered and quiet. “You are.”

Those words punch you in the chest, nearly taking you to your knees. If it weren’t for the hold Jungkook has on your wrist, you’re sure you’d be in a heap on the floor. As it is, he catches his other arm around your waist as you sway on the spot.

“Y-you shouldn’t.” Your protest is stilted, the words feeling robotic and unnatural as you gingerly press a hand against the arm that’s angled around your ribs. It was your intention to push his touch away, but the most you accomplish is flexing your fingers against the smooth cotton covering his thick bicep.

Somehow, you find yourself back in the room you had fled from just a few minutes ago. Jungkook settled you on the bed and is now pressing a chilled water bottle into your hands.

He kneels before you, headless of putting wrinkles in his black dress slacks. He’s wearing a thin white undershirt, his starched white button-up undone over it. The cuffs of the sleeves flop as he brings his hands into his lap and picks at the edges of his thumbnails.

Your eyes rove the room, catching on the black leather box still sitting on the floor by the door where you dropped it. Inside the box is nestled a pair of golden cufflinks—a pair you now understand have been passed down through the generations of Jeon men.

Absently, you press your thumb to your phone, unlocking it to reveal the text message that has irrevocably changed your life forever.

If you had known Taehyung’s text message requesting help would have led you to where you are right now, you’d probably have ignored it.

Yet, at the same time, if you had, you’d probably have had this revelation with Jungkook in the middle of the ceremony, and it would have caused all sorts of untoward chaos. No, it’s far better that it’s happening now instead of later. Maybe you can get ahead of this and fix it somehow. Though…

“Hey? You okay?” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“Huh? Oh. Umm…yeah. I don’t—what do we do now?” You turn your phone over, finger ghosting over the power button to lock the screen once more.

Jungkook sighs, and you can’t help watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, framing the swell of his defined chest with the action. He’s an exquisite specimen of masculinity, and even if it weren’t for the musky notes of his scent that mark him as your true mate, you’d find him devastatingly attractive.

“We need to tell Hayun. I c-can’t…I can’t marry her. Not when I’ve found—” he cuts off, wincing as his voice breaks. “I should go and find her. Now, before this can go any further. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you call after him. He stops halfway to the door and glances back at you over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we tell her together?”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek a moment, his eyes flicking over your face as he thinks through your suggestion. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

There is palpable tension between you and Jungkook as you follow behind him out of the main building. He texted Jimin, knowing he’d be the most reliable with his phone on him, asking where the photos were currently taking place.

It only took a few minutes for Jimin to respond that they were almost finished but were currently capturing some group shots on the walking path by the lake on the backside of the property.

You’re vaguely aware of where the lake is located, having given the map of the grounds that was posted on the backside of your room’s door a cursory look the day you arrived. It’s a relatively short distance, yet it feels like miles with the weight of pure dread sitting firmly on your shoulders.

At least it’s not a feeling you’re experiencing alone. Jungkook is right there with you, and you can clearly see the unease in the stiff way his body moves. The tips of his fingers twitch back in your direction every few steps like he’s fighting off the urge to slip them between your own.

The first person you catch sight of is Yoona, the photographer. She’s squatting in the grass, her large DSLR camera held up to her face, as she captures candid moments of Hayun, Taehyung, and Jimin repositioning themselves along the lake's edge.

Your heart squeezes hard at how beautiful Hayun is in her form-fitting silk ivory, off-the-shoulder wedding gown, the lacy bell sleeves fluttering around her hands. Her head is thrown back, the peel of her carefree laughter carrying to you and further crumbling your soul into a million pieces. You ache, not just for the desire to draw closer to your true mate, but for the inevitable aftermath of what is about to happen.

Taehyung is the first to notice you and Jungkook. The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a concerned frown. Hayun catches his expression and follows his line of sight. Her gaze sears into you, and you feel like you might combust into a cloud of ash at any second with the irritation contained in her pretty brown eyes.

“What’s going on?” Hayun exclaims, throwing her hands up in a frustrated manner as she stalks towards you and Jungkook. “It’s not time for your photos yet,” she tells you before her eyes swing to Jungkook. “What happened to not seeing me before the wedding? That was your rule!”

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

“Talk about wh—” she cuts off, her question turning into a gasp. Your wide eyes flick to you. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Your protest rings out at the same time that Jungkook says, “She’s my true mate.”

A breeze kicks up, sweeping from behind you and tossing errant strands of hair across Hayun’s forehead. You’d give anything for the power to pluck the wind from the air, shove it back…keep it from showering her with yours and Jungkook’s combined scents—a blatant confirmation echoing the words Jungkook just let loose.

Hayun stiffens. Her jaw goes rigid, and her face pales as her nostrils flare. It’s a moment that will be forever written across the band of your friendship. Betrayal flashes through her eyes before morphing into something akin to somber resignation.

“Hayun,” Jungkook begins. “I don’t—we didn’t…I’m sorry. What do we do?” He spreads his hands out in front of himself in a helpless manner.

By this time, Jimin and Taehyung have come up from behind Hayun, faces wary as they take in the scene with growing clarity. You look to Taehyung, hoping he can see the silent plea in your eyes.

“Explain,” Hayun says simply. Despite how collected she seems, you can see the subtle tremble in her hands and the way the muscles in her neck continue to flex and strain as she clenches and grinds her teeth.

Jungkook launches into recounting the events that brought you to his room and broke the proverbial dam. “We—we had no idea. I swear this is the first time we’ve ever met, and gods, the bracelets…” Jungkook trails off, a pained sound rumbling from his chest.

“Is this a joke?” Taehyung asks accusingly, and it’s like a barb to your heart.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Your croaked statement draws Hayun’s attention.

Hayun sniffles, her chin jerking a little higher into the air. “My nose tells me one thing, but my heart tells me another. Did you know about this last night? Is that why you pushed so hard for me to tell him?” The last part is whispered, meant only for you, which hurts even more.

“Hayun, no! You know that’s impossible. I couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, having heard despite her whisper, his eyes swiveling between you and Hayun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to throw further fuel on the fire. “Hayun, please, believe me.”

A pregnant moment full of thick tension passes before it fizzles, and Hayun shakes her head, not in a dismissive fashion but in gentle acceptance. “I believe you,” she tells you. “I guess…I guess there won’t be a wedding in four hours unless you two want…” She trails off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her cherry red painted lips.

Jungkook blanches, wide eyes landing on you. “What? Us? No. I mean, sorry…but—”

Hayun holds up her hand, quelling Jungkook’s flustered response. “I was teasing, Koo, trying to lighten the mood. Um,” she pauses, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger before slowly slipping it off and closing a fist around it. “Can we talk, though? There’s something I needed to tell you today anyway.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

“Tae, do you mind…?” Hayun asks, not even having to fill in the blanks. Her brother instantly steps into his role as protector and savior.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make some phone calls,” Taehyung assures her before grabbing Jimin’s arm and starting back down the walking path.

“I’ll just—” you thumb over your shoulder in the direction Tae and Jimin just disappeared in “—be in my room.”

“Wait,” Hayun calls, pulling your retreat up short. “Come here.” She opens her arms, her hands opening and closing in grabby motions. “Please.”

A sob cracks from your throat as you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Hayun. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. None of that. This isn’t anything we could have predicted or stopped from happening. If anything, maybe this is life’s way of getting back at me for what I did to him,” she whispers in your ear. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Hayun smoothes a hand over your back and releases you. She steps back, using the back of a finger to lift the tears from your cheeks, and gives you a watery smile.

You’re not sure you can speak without completely losing yourself, so you just give her a tight nod and continue back on your way down the path. A part of you wants to hear what she has to say to Jungkook, to be there to soothe any hurts or aches…which is a startling realization that you’d not just tend to Hayun but to Jungkook, too. That internal, visceral part of you yearns to turn on your heel and…protect what’s yours.

It’s an odd revelation to think of Jungkook as yours. Well, yours unless either of you reject the bond. Though, that thought makes your stomach pitch and roil. You have to trail a hand along the wall in the hall leading to your room to keep yourself from curling over your abdomen at just the idea.

Once back in your room, you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you absently start to gather your belongings and pack them up. Every few minutes, you find yourself pausing to stare at the door, ears pricking at the slightest sound from beyond it.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Whether it’s Hayun coming to your room so the two of you can cry together or Jungkook coming to claim y—uh, you shove that thought aside quickly because now is not the time. At. All.

The time for the wedding comes and passes without a single knock on your door nor a text or call on your phone. You’re tempted to go looking. For what, you’re not entirely sure—an answer, maybe, some sort of direction on what you should do now.

Finally, after hours of sitting in silence with just your thoughts for company, a soft knock sounds at your door. The long hem of your dress nearly trips you up in your haste to make it to the door. It swings open, and for some reason, your stomach drops, the flutter of disappointment heavy and unexpected.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taehyung says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “Mind if I come in?” 

His necktie is loose, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. There is a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. It makes your chest ache.

“Sure,” you say, stepping back and letting him into your room.

Taehyung sighs, perches on the end of your bed, and props his elbows on his knees. His chin rests on an upturned fist, his other hand dangling between his legs, clutching his phone.

He opens his mouth, a single word the only thing coming out, “So.”

“So,” you parrot.

“Hayun wants me to take her home…alone. I’m not sure what all she and Jungkook talked about, but I think they’re at least amicable in agreeing that it would be best if he gave her a few days at home alone before they start the process of separating their lives.” You’re not sure if the bitter tinge in your chest is hurt because Hayun isn’t the one telling you this or because now you have to find your own way to the airport. As if reading your thoughts, Taehyung continues, “I can be back in two days, maybe sooner, depending on traffic. Perhaps they’ll let you extend your stay. If not, I can talk to Jimin—”

“No, Tae, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Hayun, make sure she’s okay...as okay as she can be, at least. Fuck.” The last word comes out choked, and you gnash your teeth on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the angry tears out. You have no right to be angry. Hell, you’re not even sure why you’re angry. It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel right now, the only one that doesn’t leave you feeling like your world is slowly imploding.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing one of his big hands up to cup the side of your face. His thumb prods at the swell of your cheek, causing you to release the tension in your jaw. “Hayun isn’t the only one I’m worried about here.”

“I’m fine—I will be fine,” you amend. “I promise. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I’m mad at myself for ruining Hayun’s big day. I can’t believe this is happening at all. This…this just doesn’t happen. This is the kind of shit you read about in books, it’s not supposed to be real life.”

And there it is, you surmise—the truth of the matter. None of what’s happened makes sense. It honestly belongs on the pages of a book or in a movie script, not in your real life. It still feels surreal. If it weren’t for the subtle, lingering ache you instinctively know is associated with finding your true mate but not allowing yourself to fully accept it, you’d think this was all some elaborate party trick or impractical joke.

Taehyung smiles at you, but the unease in his eyes can’t be masked that easily. “I’m not sure what to say or what to do. You’re right. This isn’t a situation I think anyone was prepared for or ever thought possible, actually. But, here we are…and we have to face it the best way we can.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I'll tell you what: I’ll text Jimin—he’s a good guy, I think you’ll enjoy his company—and ask him to meet you in the lounge. Have a few drinks, wind down, and try to relax as best you can.”

“Sure,” you say lamely, trying to muster up at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl.” Taehyung offers you another smile, this one not so tense. “Here, I have something for you.” He fishes into his pant pocket and produces a familiar thin silver chain, a tiny crescent moon dangling near one end.

The sight has your spine straightening. “Right, of course.” You quickly thumb open the clasp on the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall from your skin for the first time since you put it on when Hayun gave it to you all those years ago. It never felt right to take it off…not until now.

Taehyung helps you swap the bracelet with the one in his hand. The metal feels cold against your skin and you immediately miss the subtle fragrance of Hayun’s scent clinging to your wrist. Though, you suppose that’s what has gotten you both into this mess to begin with. Taehyung explains in soft words how Jungkook explained to Hayun about the scent mix-up with the bracelets—such a silly, seemingly insignificant thing…the catalyst to spark such a colossal moment.

“I’m going to get on the road with Hayun, but I’ll call you as soon as we get to her place and check in on you, okay?”

Sitting at the bar with Jungkook’s best friend seemed like a good idea when Taehyung first presented it to you. But, at the time, you weren’t connecting the dots that Jimin was Jungkook’s best friend. He was just Jimin, the guy that just so happened also to be part of the wedding party that you had met in passing briefly, but he seemed like a good enough person. Now, however, you feel all the awkward tension radiating right between your shoulder blades, emphasized by the silence lingering between the two of you.

You traded in your lilac dress for jeans and a light silk blouse, canvas slip-ons in place of your slippers, yet no matter how comfortable you know your clothing is, you can’t shake the prickling discomfort eating away at the back of your neck.

“Want another?” Jimin asks, nodding to your mostly watered-down rum and coke. It’s barely late afternoon, and as much as Taehyung’s suggestion of a drink sounded like just what you needed, you’ve found yourself not in the mood to drink after all.

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jimin drums his fingers on the tabletop and pops his lips before giving you a slight head nod and pushing up from his chair.

You watch as he saunters to the long bar, his crescent moon tattoo on the nape of his neck peeking out from the top of his collar, and props his elbows onto the shiny top. His smile is flirty and casual as the bartender, a beautiful woman with long, inky tresses and fiery red lipstick, sidles up in front of him.

They’re too far away for you to hear their conversation, but her tinkling laughter carries across the space, and you know it might be a while before Jimin returns to your table.

Which you’re okay with. Considering you know you’re not exactly pleasant company right now, you don’t blame him one bit. You glance down at your phone, once again reading the last text message Hayun sent you not too long ago.

Eunseo stopped by the lounge around the same time Jimin showed up. If her smile and lingering hug were any indicator, she clearly had a thing for him. She gave you a small wave goodbye before giving Jimin another hug and heading out. Apparently, she was going to follow Taehyung and Hayun back to Hayun and Jungkook’s place to help Hayun with whatever she needed over the next few days.

Does it hurt that your best friend is relying on someone else, her new best friend? Yes. Do you also understand why? Also, yes, but that doesn’t make the sting hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up and retreat back to your room, which the front desk still hasn’t given you a definitive answer about whether or not your stay can be extended while you wait for Tae, when a shadow falls across your table a second before.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jungkook asks in a low voice.

He fidgets, threading and unthreading his fingers together while he waits for your answer. The suit he had half on earlier is gone, and in its place is a dark pair of jeans, the knees worn fashionably, and an oversized white graphic t-shirt. Black sneakers peek out from the rounded bottoms of his pant legs.

You clear your throat, forcing your eyes away from his and instead on the glass sitting in a puddle of condensation on the table before you. “Oh, I—uh, I was actually about to go. You’re welcome to the table, though. Jimin was—” You cut off, realizing Jimin is no longer in the lounge at all. “Well, he was here,” you add with a frown.

Jungkook scratches a hand across the back of his neck and gives you a hesitant smile. “Yeah, he texted me. He went…well, that doesn’t matter. Could we, um…can we talk?”

“Yes.” The response is out of your mouth before he even finishes asking. “Please, I think I’d like that,” you say, nodding toward the open seat across from you.

A shaky breath rattles from Jungkook as he eases into the empty seat. “Have you talked to Hayun at all?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“A text message, but that’s all. I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now.” Needing something to do with your hands, you trace a finger along the edge of the water pooled around the bottom of your glass and use your other to poke more drops on the side of your cup, making them race down to join the growing puddle.

Jungkook nods, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “She told me what happened last night. Her confession.” That draws your attention back to him, and you wait, fingers still on the glass, intent on hearing what he says next. “I thought I’d be angrier finding out the woman I’ve been with for years—the woman I was hours away from marrying—had cheated on me…but I’m not. For the life of me, I’m not mad at her…even though I know I should be.”

“How do you feel?”

Maybe it’s none of your business, but you have to ask.

Blowing out a breath, Jungkook slides one of his hands across the table and, giving you plenty of time to protest or pull away, slowly slides his fingers between yours, effectively joining his hand with yours. It’s the first time hand-holding has felt so intimate yet wholly innocent.

“Relieved, I think,” he finally says. “Grateful, maybe? Hayun was hurt. As she has every right to be, but she said she also felt relief, too. I think, as much as she said she loved me, she was still holding back even in the end.” With a rueful shake of his head, he tacks on, “We were just a disaster waiting to happen, held together only by the thin chain of a bracelet. We would have shattered eventually.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to where your fingers are entwined with his, trailing up to your wrist to land on the object he just spoke of.

“I’m relieved, too,” you whisper. Your eyes meet his as he glances up, and you’re instantly captivated.

This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really study Jungkook. His hair is tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. You suppose he probably had been and wonder if that’s one of his nervous ticks.

The bow of his lips is prominent and draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his lips, making small mental notes at everything you see, like the tiny beauty mark under his bottom lip. His straight nose leads you to his expressive eyes, so dark and full of secrets you want to be privy to.

To say Jungkook is handsome would be a gross understatement. You’re not sure if it’s the fact he’s your true mate or just simply a gorgeous being, but he is pleasing to the eyes, that’s for sure.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking such thoughts about your best friend’s almost-husband after everything that has just happened. It’s not in good taste to entertain these thoughts so soon, right? True mate or not.

Yet, you can’t shove those thoughts away completely.

“Where did you go just now?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head and studying you intently.

Not wanting to explain yourself and the thoughts you were just having, you choose to ask him a question instead. “So, what now?”

You’re thankful Jungkook doesn’t push you to answer. He shifts in his seat and withdraws his fingers from between yours.

“I think we start with…” he trails off, a playful smile tugging up the side of his mouth as he holds the hand he pulled back in the air in front of you in offering. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you smile. A laugh escapes you, and you instantly feel a thousand times lighter with that simple action.

As you take his hand back into yours, allowing yourself to truly savor the feel of his skin against yours, you realize that no matter what happens with Hayun or the fact that you live thousands of miles apart from Jungkook…everything is going to be okay and maybe you wouldn’t have ignored Taehyung’s text after all.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

The flight was long but worth it. Jungkook stretches as he climbs out of the Uber he took from the airport. You would have picked him up. In fact, you are supposed to pick him up…just, not until next week. He decided to surprise you by coming early. He hopes you don’t mind.

Time seemed to drag to a near stand-still following that fateful day at the bed and breakfast where he was so sure he’d be joining his life with Hayun’s officially. No one could have anticipated what actually went down that day. But, in the end, he and Hayun parted ways on pleasant terms, and it’s actually thanks to her that he’s here right now, a week early.

Jungkook was worried that with everything that happened, yours and Hayun’s friendship might suffer. But, surprisingly—and thankfully—you guys have been getting on great. Hayun has been looking at work prospects in Thailand but, from what you’ve told Jungkook, is planning to visit you and Taehyung for Christmas.

It’s been three months, and not a day has gone by that Jungkook hasn’t talked to you in some capacity. From the moment he offered to be your ride to the airport, and you agreed, he’s thought about nothing other than getting on a plane and following you. The draw to you is just that strong.

You’ve expressed similar feelings, already having planned a return trip to Seoul next month. Neither Jungkook nor you have really talked about what the future holds or how to even begin to navigate it. But Jungkook hopes that during the week he is here, you can both begin to figure that out.

Giddiness makes his tattooed fingers shake as he reaches out and grasps the brass knocker on your door. He gives it a rap against the thick wood and waits. Jungkook counts the breaths as his anticipation rises. It’s only three and a half exhales before he hears the soft pad of your feet on the other side of the door.

Jungkook can imagine you pressing up onto your tip toes in order to peer through the peephole. He’d pay money to be able to see the look on your face when you see it’s him. Not being able to see your face doesn’t take away from the dopamine rush he gets when the sound of your surprised squeal sounds through the door.

“Jungkook!” Your shout is followed by the frantic sound of you disengaging the locks on your door before you swing it open and launch yourself at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, my gods! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re here!”

It feels good to laugh, but it feels even better to have you in his arms finally. The brief embrace he shared with you at the airport when he dropped you off was not enough and is what drove him to try and come sooner than planned.

Jungkook savors the warmth of your soft body pressed against his, your arms tight around his neck. Running one of his hands up your spine, he clasps the back of your neck and uses his hold there to angle your head away from his neck so he can look you in the face.

“Surprise,” he whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You sigh dreamily, your eyes fluttering closed for a second like you’re savoring the feeling of being in his arms. “Pleasant surprise,” you murmur with a smile on your face.

Jungkook can’t help himself. He wants so badly to know if your smile tastes as good as he thinks it will. The press of his lips against yours causes you to melt against him, a throaty sound escaping around the intrusion of his tongue as he works it between your lips.

“Your taste,” he groans, forcing his mouth away from yours before the allure of you can drive him completely mad. Who is he kidding? He’s already there. “I need more.”

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

They echo the thoughts you’ve been harboring for the last three months. You’ve ached with those words, desperately willing yourself to be patient and let it happen when it’s meant to happen.

But, fuck, it feels so good to have him in your arms, to have his mouth brushing against yours. He tastes divine, a warm sweetness that compliments the musk of his scent that is slowly wrapping itself around you.

“Take me. Take it all,” you urge, completely baring yourself to him, body, mind, and soul. “I’m yours.”

It’s a frenzy, the frantic discarding of clothing. Your fingers work to free him of his jeans while also helping him with the criss-cross straps of your lounging romper. You don’t care that you’re still standing by your front door, bared down to your underwear. The only thing you’re focusing on now is how Jungkook holds you at arm's length and drinks you in from head to toe.

“You…are…everything.” The way he whispers those words crawls under your skin, rooting itself deep in your being. You feel sexy…desired, and unbelievably empty—your body clenches, the ache deep between your thighs. You’ve never been so turned on from just taking your clothes off before, from whispered words and a heated look.

Jungkook allows you to undress him as slow or as fast as you want. You try to take your time and savor every inch of skin you expose. But, you can barely contain yourself when you get to his jeans, shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs with your eyes locked on the many planes and angles of his toned chest and stomach.

Your fingers ghost over his skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake as you explore the smooth and lush expanse of his shoulders and down his arms. Without needing to say anything more, he gathers you into his arms and covers your mouth with his once more.

It’s a miracle you make it to your bedroom. But, seeing Jungkook sprawled out on your bed is a sight you’ll never forget, with his lowered lids and bottom lip caught between his teeth. You want to taste every inch of him, from the tips of his ears down to the defined muscles of his calves.

Now, though, your gaze focuses on the front of his tented boxer briefs. The dark grey material has darkened even further, where you can see the distinct outline of the head of his cock. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You crawl on the bed, knees slotting between his, your hands on either side of his hips. With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and mouth gently at the wetness. You moan at the flavor of him, your tongue peeking out to seek more.

“Fuck,” you curse. “You taste so good.”

Jungkook lets out a quick breath. “You can’t say shit like that, baby girl. You’re going to make me lose it.” He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling, his lips moving like he’s sending up a silent prayer, before looking back down at you. “You have maybe three seconds before I can’t hold back any longer and tear that ass up.”

You chuckle softly, pouting out your lips in a faux sullen manner. “Yes, sir.”

That earns a growl from Jungkook that has heat racing down your spine as you hook your fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein’s and pull them down. He lifts his hips, helping you free him from their confines.

His cock stands so pretty before you, the full heft bobbing against his belly, smearing a pearl of precum against his golden skin. You dive in, licking at the sticky mess before taking the tip between your lips and lavishing your tongue over his slit.

Jungkook fists the sheets, a litany of curses falling from his lips. “Please,” he chokes.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you inch your way down his length, your jaw forcing itself wider to accommodate as much of him as you can. The blunt head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. You take a steadying breath in through your nose before forcing yourself a little further until your throat constricts around him and you have to pull back.

The second your mouth leaves his cock, saliva stringing from your lips to his tip, Jungkook grabs you and hauls you up over him. You laugh, loving the heat emanating from his body as yours covers his.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

His strong hands land on your hips and tangle in the band of your panties. “I need these off. Please. I need you. I want to feel you…be inside you.”

You want that, too, you realize, your body already primed and begging for it. The sweet, fragrant notes of your arousal saturate the air, mixing with Jungkook’s to paint a picture of hedonism and wanton desires.

The rest of your clothes come off, your bra and panties are tossed to the side, leaving you utterly bare to him. Your inner thighs slide like velvet over his hips as you move your body against his until you can feel the press of the head of his cock against your entrance.

You wrap a hand around his base, angling him perfectly. It’s a slow descent into madness, the lowering of your body onto his. His eyes bore into yours, pouring out everything that has been building to this moment, this pinnacle that will forever throttle you onto a different path for your future—with him. You can feel every perfect inch slide along your walls as they adjust and welcome him. It’s like sliding home; he is the perfect fit for your body, filling you completely.

The pace you set, at first, is languid. An easy rise and fall of your hips as you both learn the body of the other. Jungkook’s hands mold around your breasts, his thumbs caressing over the pert points of your nipples.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, emphasizing your words with a generous roll of your hips. “So much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it often?” he asks, a teasing tone to his words.

With the amount of teasing photos and videos you’ve shared with each other over the last few weeks, he knows you have. You can tell he’s just giving you a hard time. That’s fine, because you can…

Jungkook throws his head back as you arch yours, letting his cock hit that special place inside that has you both seeing stars. “Fuck!” His hands drop to your hips, landing with a satisfying smack. His grip tightens, dimpling the supple flesh around his fingers. “Can I knot you?” he asks with a breathless moan. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot. The idea has your body pulsing around his, flooding slick onto his pelvis as you continue to roll your hips. “Fuck, baby girl, do you like that idea? You want to take my knot like a good girl?”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, much less answer him. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a panting keen, your chin jerking up and down as you frantically nod your want.

Jungkook braces his feet against the mattress and uses his grip on your hips as leverage to thrust upward, sending you forward onto your hands. He’s relentless, pounding into you from below to the point your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind your lids as your body coils tighter than ever before.

You cry out as he sends you over the edge, your body careening into an unfathomable abyss of pleasure. The sounds coming from around his cock as it pounds into you are slick and obscene, debauched yet wholly satisfying. 

“Alpha, need your knot,” you mewl, your lips finding the triskelion tattoo over Jungkook’s left pec muscle. You nibble at it, your teeth sinking softly into the skin.

“Oh, baby, fuck…fuck…Fuuuckkk!” Jungkook shouts, the sound turning into a guttural snarl as his body goes primal.

He seats himself completely inside of you with one final, deliberate thrust, and then you can feel the swell of his knot capture within you. It hurts, your pleasure turning into a moment of pain and panic. You squirm, trying to lift your hips from his, but the clasp of his hands on your body won’t let you go far. You whine, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Relax. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

It’s like those words unlock some inner Omega part of your brain, and suddenly you feel your body rush with endorphins and dopamine as it accepts the thick jets of his cum now flooding in. Like administering a drug, it’s such a fast transition that you feel lightheaded and giddy, sheepish and almost silly over your moment of panic.

“Gods, that feels so…good.” You wiggle in his arms, gasping as his knot pulls tight. You want more, need more of that feeling…need more of his cum. “More, Alpha, please.”

Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face. You can feel it when his cock pulses inside you, dribbling even more liquid heat into your body in answer to your plea. “That’s my pretty girl,” Jungkook coos, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You’re so beautiful taking my knot, full of my cum.” He curses softly, reverently, and another gush of heat fills your body. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I swear it.”

You fall into a half-sleep, content and sated as you are. There are no worries about the future, nor the past. You are happy…all thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks.

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-11-05 ColorMePurplex2

[bumblingbeezzz]

I think somebody out there wants me to kill myself lmao. I keep seeing things on here that could all potentially ruin my mood, and now I see holes getting shot through one of my lifelines amidst the sinking sands of depression. I knew Goku was never entirely a righteous hero, but in fact got a lot of thrill from fighting, which is why he would sometimes leave a worthy opponent alive so he can fight him again, even if they were an extremely dangerous individual to let roam free. But this says that it's literally all he cares about? Some of the claims OP made are, at the very least, not backed up in the source provided by the other poster. It doesn't say here that he only feels companionship not love, and that he would only care for a second if his family and friends died.***

It's pretty messed up. The same article makes both Goku and Toriyama not look so great all at once. In it, he also admits that his motivation for writing DBZ was nothing more than money, and doesn't say that he learned to love it or have any connection to his fans (in fact, he mentions intentionally messing with them and being contrary to their wishes), just seems to imply that it was an easier job than most. I'm tempted to share this with the person who got me into DBZ but also I don't want to ruin anything for them. Then again, they're the type to say "I prefer the brutal truth" so...

Ah fuck but what about all my followers who like DBZ? Goddammit...I wanted to say my piece but I guess it's selfish of me to ruin it for others. But, well, actually there may be some consolation for those who already saw this, because Toriyama also states that he forgets some of the things he writes. He also says he doesn't take care of his illustrations after he finishes them. Which is really weird and kind of disheartening to hear that he had so little passion for the story he built and shared with so many fans worldwide. But the point is, it seems that many fans are closer to the material than even he is, and as I've said before about the Harry Potter series, you can separate the content from the creator by acknowledging that 1) it is fiction and 2) there is a difference between who the author is, how the author interprets their own work, and what enjoyers make of it. These characters live in our consciousness as we built them too. We put our own heart into it just by immersing ourselves in it. Yeah, sure, Toriyama had a different vision of Goku than maybe a lot of fans did, but that doesn't make those interpretations we acquired and stored less valid. We all used our own imaginations to interact with what we watched or read. The version of the character that you see, and which makes the most sense to you is "real," because it's all unreal anyway.

And honestly? A more complex Goku who loves fighting for the thrill of it AND fighting for his friends makes the most sense anyway. We've seen it, we've seen his genuine care and concern. He's proven himself to be "pure of heart."

***Edit: They do actually include more sources that I didn't initially see which does confirm this, at least the part about seeing his family more as companions, though that doesn't change my final statement.

I just really find the fact that the creator of dragonball has stated that Goku canonically cannot feel any kind of love, just ‘companionship’, to be a extremely interesting fact. Like, if his family died he’d be like ‘No!’ and then he’d get over it fairly quickly as if they were only just acquaintances. Same goes with the rest of his friends.

The series creator apparently doesn’t like the anime’s portrayal of Goku. They always cast Goku as a hero, when in the manga he’s really only ‘saving people’ as a side bonus that comes with fighting a stronger opponent. He doesn’t purposefully go in to save anyone unless there is a fight happening at the scene.

So, If Goku hadn’t hit his head, he would’ve just been another Raditz. And it also explains why he’s rather cruel towards Gohan and neglectful towards Chichi.

Apparently Vegeta is the actual exception to his own species. He actually genuinely loves his family, -a rare trait only Goku’s mother was proven to have- whereas Goku is apparently literally unable to have those feelings. It’s kind of ironic; Vegeta is probably the one that would be the most ashamed and resentful to admit he has those kinds of feelings.

[chrissv4mp]

Hiii so I thought of something that could maybe be good and thought I’d send a request for it. I was thinking something about what happens after the chicken shop date and how Amelia goes on her other date after and Billie is super jealous but the date sucks so she ends up texting Billie the whole time and Billie is still mad but Amelia begs her for another chance and talks her into meeting up after because she realizes she should have just stuck with Billie instead of going on another date and then they hook up. You could make it the reader instead of Amelia if you want I just love the storyline and how flirty and hot Billie was in that interview. For the sex I’d like dom Billie/strap/choking/orgasm denial/squirting if possible but just do your thing hahaha thank youuuh😘

𝜗𝜚 SHE CAN'T COMPARE

WARNINGS: SMUT, sorta angst(?), strap-on sex, choking, orgasm denial, degradation, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, meandom!billie, brattysub!reader.

NOTES: okay woah guys i actually finished this quite fast..

WORDS: 6.2k

SUMMARY: During your "date" with Billie, you accidently let it slip that you have another date after this. However, you can't get the argument out of your head, leading you right back to Billie.

TAGS: @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

BILLIE EILISH × F!READER

"I'm actually going on a date after this." You blurt with a smile on your face as you take a sip of your drink. When you see Billie's face drop, you almost choke on the liquid, "Sorry."

Billie just crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair as she stares at you with those intimidating eyes of hers, "What the hell?" She chuckles, glancing at the camera. She didn't look irritated, but you knew damn well that she was.

With all the playful flirting behind the scenes and the soft, quick touches, it wasn't hard to miss that she had at least some interest in you. And it wasn't weird because you've been friends for quite some time before you finally had the courage to ask her to be on the show.

For a few moments, all that consumed the room was silence. Tense silence, to be exact. Billie's gaze spoke to you like nobody's ever did, and somehow, you knew exactly how she was feeling. You bite your lip nervously, eyes moving away from hers as it becomes too much.

"That—it—I didn't mean to say that." You stutter awkwardly, a coy smile on your face for the camera. The whole crew was still here, and you really hoped they didn't notice what was going on between the two of you, "Just a thought I didn't mean to blurt out."

Billie nods her head, "Well, you sure did." She scoffs, sounding more as a laugh to distract the camera crew and the people who would see this when it came out. She tilted her head as you took another sip of your drink to wash away the dryness of your throat.

"Right—shit—Sorry?" You mutter in an apologetic tone, leaning back in your chair to make a little more distance between your bodies. The table didn't even seem to create distance at this point. Her eyes were trained on yours, but yours were nervously tracing the pattern on the tablecloth.

Billie rolls her eyes playfully at your response, fixing her posture and sitting up straight, "So—You're goin' on an actual date after this?" She asks, both literally and just for the cameras. More literally, but nobody has to know.

"No—Billie, it's—This is a real date." You smile, trying to lighten the mood as you giggle softly at her jealousy. She was intimidating, but God, was she childish when she got like this, "I meant like a friend... date. With my girlfriends." You mutter, watching as an amused smile comes to Billie's face.

"Oh, so now you have girlfriends?" She scoffs, tone playful, shaking her head softly as she licks her lips. She adjusts her hat, muttering something too quiet for the microphone to pick up as she reaches for a fry.

You just stay silent, thinking of anything you could say that would change the topic. She was only teasing you now, clearly, "I'm actually just going home right after this. Maybe with you, even." You smile, watching as Billie raises an eyebrow at your harmless flirting.

"But you don't wanna stand up the lucky girl, do ya?" Billie questions, seemingly a joke to the camera, but hitting you very hard in reality. She shifts in her seat again, eyes dragging along your body and silently praying that it wouldn't be caught on camera.

You shake your head as you hopelessly stutter your reply, "I—no—there's no date after this. It was a joke." You play it off terribly, mentally cursing yourself for even blurting the stupid words in the first place, "Y'know, you're really hitting me hard and soft with these replies."

Billie's lips part at your word play on her new album, nodding her head as she chuckles, "Well, maybe next time, don't bring up your other date." She teases. When you glance into her eyes, you can tell exactly what she's thinking. And it's anything but sweet.

"Billie, there's no—I don't have a date, forget I even said that!" You shush, rolling your eyes at her as you take the last sip of your drink. Billie just shrugs nonchalantly, hiding her true emotions as she bites her lip, "Okay."

The camera equipment is slowly getting put away and hauled into the back of some moving van. But, you and Billie are still sitting at the same table you were in the interview. It was getting dark, and you did, in fact, have a real date that you had to be at soon.

Billie stays quiet, finishing up her food and stealing glances at you every now and then. Her thoughts are all over the place, jealousy pumping through her veins as the hand in her lap grips her jeans roughly. Her eyes snap up to yours right when you decide to finally look at her.

"What's her name?" Billie mutters, face even more stern than before when you were both being recorded. Now, she could finally express herself with words that didn't sound light-hearted, "Your date, I mean." She states, taking the last fry into her mouth and waiting for your reply.

You stay silent, almost dumbfounded, that she was still stuck on that topic. It'd been almost an hour and a half since you had that conversation, and yet it was still lingering in the air. A forced chuckle emits from your throat as you sit up straight, "Ms. None-of-your-concern."

Billie perks up at your response, cocking an eyebrow at your words. She'd never seen this side of you, and you really should've known that right now was not the time nor place for you to show her it, "Don't gimme that shit right now. You're acting like a child."

"Yeah, well, were you not acting the same while the cameras were rolling?" You retort, furrowing your eyebrows as the smile on your face slowly fades. She just scoffs in response, rolling her eyes she breathes out some stupid argument.

Your leg bounces beneath the table, mind racing as you check the time. You only had about an hour before your real date, and God, did you want to get away from Billie sooner. You can still feel her eyes burning holes through you, but you pay her no mind, huffing quietly in exasperation.

Billie notices the way you check your phone every few minutes, and it only annoys her further each time she catches you, "Better hurry up. Bet she wants to take you home later tonight, maybe even fuck—"

"Fuck you." You scoff, moving back in the chair as the screeching noise reverberates around the small, empty restaurant. You swiftly grab your jacket before storming out, leaving Billie alone in her seat, fuming.

"But your date's already gonna do that!" She calls angrily, hands clenched into fists as she watches the door slam behind you loudly. Her eyes stay on the glass for a moment longer, almost waiting for you to come back. But, you never do, so she just sits in silence.

Her head lolls back as she closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath before she huffs out in frustration. Sure, maybe she was in the wrong, but who's to say you weren't as well? You knew how jealous she got. Each time she had a crush, she'd always run to you to complain about their ex's, never hiding her jealousy. And she was sure you didn't forget, you just knew how to push her buttons.

Quiet footsteps caught her attention, head turning in the direction of the kitchen, only to find the owner of the small restaurant approaching her, "We're closing soon, ma'am." He says, the tiredness clear in his tone and eyes. Billie just nods, humming quietly as she grabs her stuff and throws it away on her way out.

The lights hanging above you dimly lit the table and the girl across the table from you, highlighting her ocean blue eyes, quite like Billie's mesmerizing ones—No.

You shift in your seat as you listen to her, nodding at almost each word she says in an effort to seem like you were really listening. But, in reality, all you could hear was the chatter of other people seated around you. All you could even think about was what happened earlier that evening, at the restaurant with Billie.

Maybe that was the one thing that was distracting you, the one thing that made you think this date was going horribly. The girl wasn't even boring or an asshole. She was sweet and genuinely interesting. You just didn't know what was wrong with yourself.

You smile softly as you notice she's stopped talking, toying with the food on your plate, your fork twirling the pasta around it but not exactly bringing it to your lips to eat it. You'd lost your appetite, and you knew it wasn't from the food you ate a few hours prior to this.

"You okay?" She asks, and that's the one thing that pulls you out of your thoughts, eyes snapping to hers. They were swelling with concern, and so was her facial expression. God, you were really blowing it. Maybe you were the asshole.

The fork leaves your hand, clattering against the plate softly as you nod in response, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I just—Need to use the restroom real quick." You mutter, an apologetic look in your eyes as you stare into hers. You knew yourself that you wouldn't come back, so you didn't even bother promising it, instead just smiling at her before quickly rushing to the restrooms.

When you're out of her sight, you grab your phone from your bag, unlocking it as you open the door to the women's bathroom, making your way down to the furthest stall from the door and locking yourself in.

You click the first pinned contact, not even needing to look at who it is before you begin typing, leaning against the tiles of the bathroom wall.

y/n: hey

You bite your lip as you patiently wait for her response, muttering something along the lines of, "Please don't be mad at me, please don't be mad at me, please—."

When the three little dots show up, you let out a breath you hadn't even known you were holding, gripping your phone tighter as your eyes dart all around the screen.

billie: thought u were at ur date?

y/n: bored

y/n: cant stop thinking about our fight

y/n: you keep distracting me. idiot

You can almost feel her own emotions through the device. That sexy chuckle of hers imprinted in your mind. She gives your last text a thumbs down, and then the three little dots begin to bounce again.

billie: good to know im still on your mind tho

billie: also thats not even my fault??? js stop thinking of me then youll be okay 🤷‍♀️

y/n: kinda hard when you teased me the entire fucking interview

y/n: even off camera dude like wtf

Billie shifts on her couch, your words making her heart swell with pride. Even if you did piss her off, she was still happy she was on your mind. But, really, when wasn't she floating around somewhere in there?

billie: sorry for being me, damn

billie: also wtf why are you skipping over that shit that you did at the restaurant?

billie: like ok tell me you have another date after i was clearly flirting with you fr the entire interview

Her lip was tucked between her teeth harshly, biting down almost hard enough to draw blood as she watched the dots begin to bounce in the small grey bubble again.

When you finally sent the text, her facial expression softened.

y/n: im really sorry billie. i didnt know it would hurt you, it wasnt my intention

billie: huh

billie: well it sure as hell seemed like it was

You sigh quietly as your eyes scan over her texts over and over again. Fuck, why did she have to be stubborn?

Your thumbs quickly begin to work on the screen, typing out an almost pathetic apology. No—It wasn't even an apology—It was more of a stupid text begging her to forgive you.

y/n: im really sorry bills

y/n: i dont want us to fight. please

y/n: i didnt even want to come here after it

y/n: you know i hate when ur mad at me

y/n: ill apologize to u a million times more if thats what u want

Her heart beats faster, and she swears it might pop out of her chest any moment now. Her thumbs quickly type out a response, a stupid smile coming onto her face.

billie: dont

y/n: well can you at least pick me up cus u were being an asshole too

y/n: pls can you pick me up i really dont wanna see the look on the poor girls face when she finds me in this bathroom stall texting u

billie: idk i might js make you wait 30 mins so she can find u in there

Your eyes roll at her texts, scoffing at her responses. She was so difficult, and you hated her for it.

billie: hurry to the front im omw dummy

A smile quickly comes onto your face as you read the last text, almost squealing until you remember that she wouldn't be easy when you got in the car. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night.

The car pulls up slowly in the front of the restaurant, and you glance back one final time at the windows before scurrying off the sidewalk and jumping into the passenger seat of Billie's car.

She doesn't even wait for you to put your seatbelt on, quickly driving forward to exit the parking lot of the place. Her eyes trace your side profile as she waits for cars to pass, her gaze going unnoticed as you buckle your seatbelt.

"Have fun?" She mutters quietly, jealousy bubbling underneath her skin and seeping through in her tone as her eyes avert back to the road. You turn your head at her words, sighing in annoyance. She was still going on about it.

Your cross your arms over your chest as you look out of the windshield at the cars passing by, feeling her car jolt forward as she gets onto the main road, "If I did, I wouldn't have texted you, idiot."

Billie scoffs at your name-calling, rolling her eyes as she presses on the breaks at a red light. She takes the chance to look at you again, eyes traveling lower this time and catching onto your change of clothes.

You were wearing a short black dress, the neck cutting low and exposing some of your cleavage. She would've pounced on you right then and there if it wasn't for the traffic behind her. And also if she wasn't still so fucking furious at you.

Her own choice of clothing was the complete opposite of whatever slutty piece of cloth you were wearing, her sweatpants hanging low on her waist and exposing the waistband of her 'HIT ME HARD AND SOFT' boxers.

When the light turned green, it was your turn to admire stare. On her top half, she was wearing a little white tank, the straps thin and almost slipping off her shoulders each time she moved her arms to turn the wheel.

Her nipples were poking through the thin tank, and it felt almost impossible to look away. Until she spoke and you got too nervous to keep staring, "Well, I still wanna know how it went."

Liar. She was only talking about it so that you wouldn't forget the deep shit you were in when you got to your house. Or maybe her house? You didn't know, and you honestly didn't want to. You wouldn't bother asking, either, not wanting to hear the whole, 'why did you change the topic?' rant.

"It was good, actually." You murmur, an idea sparking in your head as you glance at her face again. You can practically see the way her eyes twitches in annoyance, and it only spurs you on to say your next words, "She was so sweet, and she cared a lot. I could tell just by her pretty eyes."

Billie has to stop herself from slamming on the breaks in the middle of the road, instead deciding to breathe in deeply and bite her lip. Her grip on the steering wheel increases in tightness, tilting her head to the side like she always did when she was infuriated.

"Yeah?" She seethes, cocking an eyebrow as she takes another quick glance at you. She catches a glimpse of that stupid smile on your face, and it only makes her angrier. You hum in response.

"Yeah." You reply, giggling quietly as you watch her knuckles turn white from the grip she has on the wheel. She presses down on the gas harder, and the car only accelerates faster down the route to her house, "Flirted with me the entire time, asked me if I needed anything. She even pulled out my chair for me."

Billie nods almost robotically, like she's being forced to listen to you brag about the girl. Because she is. She can't just jump out of the car into the road, even if she really did want to in that moment.

"That's—Yeah, that's nice." She mutters, jaw clenched. Even if you had only said a few sentences about no-name-girl, she was tired of it already. She only started the conversation to maybe undermine you? She didn't even know anymore, all she knew was that she was going to die if you kept talking about this girl.

"And—" Billie couldn't turn onto the street to her house fast enough, speeding down the road as she tried to drown you out. Her eyes burned holes through you, specifically your chest. She didn't understand why you chose to wear that revealing dress for that stupid girl and not for her.

She pulled into the driveway quickly, turning her key and pulling it out after putting the car in park. Her hands rested in her lap as she threw her head back against the headrest, eyes shutting softly as she breathed out.

"Stay there." She whispered, getting out of the car and slamming it with a loud thud. Your eyes followed her as she rounded the car, gaze coming down to see her sweatpants falling down only a little further.

She opened your own door before you could. It made her crazy when you even tried to open it by yourself, so even if she was pissed, she'd never forget to open it for you. When you exited her car, she slammed your door and locked the car, following behind you to the front door.

You type in her code proudly, reaching for the door handle but quickly being swatted away by her own ring-clad hand. You laugh at her gestures, watching as she opens the door for you and lets you go in first.

She's silent the whole time. Even as she closes and locks the door behind her, no words slip from between her lips, only gentle breaths as she rubs her temples. Her eyes basically undress you as you walk down the hall and throw your bag onto her couch, heart beating faster and faster as the seconds pass by.

Her vision is blurred as she follows after your footsteps, time seeming to slow as she looks around at the pictures hanging on the walls. When she finally makes it into the living room, you're sitting down on the couch, legs spread like you owned the place.

And, honestly, it seemed like it after being here 24/7. You even convinced Billie into giving you a key with no hesitation on her part. She grips onto the wall harshly, holding herself up as her eyes take in all that was you. Your scent already fills the room, making her head spin and blurring her vision further.

Her other hand rests inside of her pants, the action normal because of how abnormally cold she always was. But, this time, you see her hand moving beneath the fabric in a repeated motion. Like she's stroking something.

Your lips curve into a smirk at the sides, sitting up taller as you realize. She only comes closer, now leaning against the far end of the couch across from you.

"Thought you were mad." You hum, tilting your head in imitation. You cross your legs, hands running along your thighs through the fabric and making your dress ride up. Billie groans quietly, gaze fixed sternly on you.

A few more steps, and now her hand is holding herself up on the couch cushion you were sitting on. Her lips almost touch your earlobe, breathing on your neck as her small smirk fades. She scoffs, her other hand slowly creeping onto your thigh and squeezing, "I'm fucking furious."

You smile at her words, gasping softly as she squeezes your thigh tighter. She leans back, lips level to yours as her eyes flit down to them, then back up to your beautiful eyes. You're the first one to close the gap, grabbing her face and practically pulling her onto your lap, your lips fitting onto hers so perfectly.

Her hands moved to your hips, quickly flipping your positions so that you were on top of her. As you sat on her lap, you could feel the bulge beneath her sweatpants poking at your thigh, causing an amused smile to creep onto your face, "Predicted this, huh?"

"Shut up." She grumbles, ring-clad fingers wrapping around your neck and smashing your lips onto hers. Your hips slowly grind on her sweatpants, moaning quietly against her mouth as your hands grip at her shoulders, nails digging into her skin.

Billie groans at the subtle pain, pushing her hips up when she feels you begin to rock back and forth on her lap. Her free hand moves down to undo the tie of her sweatpants, finding it difficult with only one hand and her eyes closed, "Ma, take 'em off f'me, would you?"

You don't hesitate, the need to tease her thrown out of the window. For now, at least. Your hands leave her shoulders quickly, pulling away from her lips with hesitancy as you look down to see what you're doing. Billie's eyes are on you the whole time, biting her lip as she feels you tug down her sweatpants and let them pool at her ankles.

Billie bucks her hips against you, and this time, it's like you can feel everything. Your lips part in surprise at her sudden movement, a quiet squeak emitting from your throat at how big her dick feels.

"Gonna sit and stare, or are you gonna take it off?" Billie sighs, her patience wearing thinner than before. It didn't help that you were still fully clothed, either. Her hands leave your neck and hip, moving behind and messing with the zipper of the skimpy black dress that adorns your beautiful body, pulling it down until you could easily slip out of it.

You crawl off her lap, eyes hooded and full of desire as you slowly strip for her. Her hands grip the couch cushions tightly, holding herself back from even saying anything that would elicit a snarky response from your part.

The dress falls to the floor, revealing your naked figure to her. She wanted so bad to call you a slut for not wearing any undergarments, to degrade you until you broke beneath her and finally gave in. But she stayed silent, instead taking in your mind-consuming presence.

When you came closer and dropped to your knees in front of her, she bit her lip. Her hands and thighs trembled as you rested your cheek on the inner part of her thigh, leaving a wet kiss on the bulge in her boxers before you grabbed the waistband of the constricting fabric with your teeth. Her breaths were short and ragged, eyes wide as she watched the silicone cock spring free.

Once her boxers were at her ankles, your eyes found hers again, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you came closer. Your lips hovered over the tip of her dick, spitting on it before your hand came up to stroke it softly, thumb rubbing at the tip as if she could actually feel it.

"Get up." She breathed, eyes locked on yours as you continued to stroke your hand up and down her dick, listening carefully to each quiet sound that she made, whether it be a whimper or a real moan, "Y/N, fuckin' listen." It was a clear warning, the way her tone changed just an octave lower, a very prominent warning that she wasn't gonna be easy if you disobeyed her again.

But, still, you stayed on your knees in front of her, your hand rubbing the silicone quicker. And, as much as she liked the way you looked on your knees, her hand quickly came down to grab a handful of your hair, tugging at it harshly in yet another warning.

This time, you listened, nodding softly as your hand left her cock, rising to your feet in front of her. Her hand left your hair as you moved up, standing up and stepping out of her sweatpants and boxers, kicking off her shoes and leaving her in only socks and that thin tank top barely covering anything.

"Want you on the bed, Y/N." She demands softly, eyes hooded and irises swirling with lust and anger. You nod, biting your lip as your eyes fall lower on her body, chuckling quietly as you see the fake dick standing tall between her thighs, "And don't make me fucking tell you again." She snarls.

You nod again once her words register in your head, your feet taking you down the hallway and into her room at the end of it. You shut the door behind you softly, scurrying onto the bed and seating yourself in the middle of it, back against the headboard and legs spread just for when she came back.

The time seems to pass way slower as you shift on her dark sheets, your lower back leaning against the pillows that she slept on each night. The room smelled heavily of Billie, her perfume filling all your senses and going straight to your core. This wasn't where you expected to end up tonight at all, but you weren't against it.

The creaking sound of the door is what catches your attention, finding yourself sitting up taller and gripping at the sheets. Billie pushes the door open slowly, hair up in a low ponytail, her tank top gone and revealing her tits.

You're unable to suppress a whine as she comes closer, locking the door behind her and only making you squeeze your thighs together, bucking your hips against nothing but the cool air in the room.

She moves so quickly that it should've been considered inhumane, her hands touching you everywhere all at once. Her hair tickles your shoulder as she tilts her head, lips pressing against your neck so softly as her hands grip at your tits so roughly. Her knee is slotted between your thighs, pressed harshly against your wet pussy and feeling every movement you make.

"She wouldn't kiss you like this," Billie whispers, biting at the sensitive spot just behind your ear, feeling as your body tenses beneath her, throat dry, and lips agape to let out all the pretty noises she was the cause of, "Only me." She finishes her sentence, moving to another part of your neck to scatter kisses and marks anywhere she possibly could.

Her thumbs circle your nipples, nails leaving soft indentations as she tries her hardest not to go absolutely insane on you. Just the thought of that girl fired her up, urging her to just ruin you first and then take it slow. But the bratty attitude you had all day only encouraged her to tease you, break you slowly, and then fuck you hard and rough until you were unable to say anything but her name, "I'm right?" She breathes, kissing your collarbone as she descends your body.

Her teeth nibble at the skin just above your tits, leaving hickeys in the shape of a heart slowly but surely. All you can do is nod in response, body reacting so eagerly to her teasing touches and kisses. She was driving you insane, but if you said anything, she'd only take it slower. It was torture.

"Answer me." Billie demands, biting down particularly hard just above your nipple, smirking against your skin as she hears you yelp softly. It's almost like she can feel your heartbeat on her lips, her head spinning with every idea of what she wanted to do with you tonight, "You were very keen to the idea of fuckin' smart-mouthing me during that interview. In front of people, too?"

"God, you just can't stand being good for more than 5 minutes, can you?" She scoffs softly, voice teasing and playful, but her words were real. She meant everything, and you knew that very well. Her lips wrapped around your nipple when she felt your fingers in her hair, tangling in the dark strands and pulling weakly. You whined at her degrading words, her knee hitting your clit perfectly as you rocked your hips sloppily.

"Bills—Only you, j-jus' you," you confirm, your voice merely a mewl in her ears, but to you, it was using all of the strength you currently had, trembling beneath Billie even though she's barely even touched you yet, "Please..." You beg, eyes fluttering shut as you find the perfect spot on her knee to grind on, hips moving faster.

Billie moves to your other nipple, sucking harshly and nibbling at the erect bud as her hands caress your thighs, nails scratching up and down your skin and making your thighs tremble just that little bit more. She releases your nipple from between her lips with a pop, now hovering over your face, removing her knee from between your legs, guessing knowing that you were close, "Please, what?"

"F-fuck me, Billie—Please—Jus'.. mm." You stumble over your words, mind scattered and unable to say anything to form a real sentence. Billie understands, though, a cocky smirk on her face as she moves her hand to one side of your body, holding herself up as her other hand pulls your thighs apart, lining her cock up with your entrance before she pushes it all in at once.

Your quiet cries are music to her ears, your trembling body cute and meek. Her hand leaves the silicone dick, traveling up your body and leaving a trail of fire up to your neck where she wraps her fingers around your throat, applying more pressure than you thought she would. You gasp quietly, the action only making the whole situation hotter and more intimate. She tilts her head, "You like that, don't you?"

You nod the best you can, whimpering softly as she slowly thrusts her hips, eyes examining your every movement from the way your chest rose and fell with the ragged breaths you took to the way your eyes fluttered each time her dick rubbed you in just the right way. Pathetic pleas for her to go faster slip from your lips, toes curling at her torturously slow pace, hands fisting at the sheets messily.

"Pleasepleaseplease—faster.." Billie's grip on your throat tightens at your words, eyebrows furrowing as she watches your eyes roll back, "Want me deeper, yeah?" She mocks, the fire in her lower abdomen growing as she sees you nod frantically, her hips already slamming into you almost twice as fast than she was fucking you before.

She leans closer to your neck, inhaling your scent and smelling her own perfume on your skin. A chuckle fills your ear, only making you moan louder, the whiny sound reverberating off the walls. Your back arches, chest coming up to brush against hers as you writhe beneath her relentless pace. Grunts fill your ears as she finds the perfect rhythm, muttering the dirtiest things in your ear imaginable. The words she was spitting should've cut deep, but they didn't, only adding to your pleasure and making you physically react.

As you squeeze your eyes shut, you see stars flash behind your eyelids, her strap hitting that sweet spot each time she thrusts into you. Your knuckles are white from the animalistic grip you have on her sheets, your orgasm approaching quicker than you could've imagined. Billie doesn't miss the way your breathing pattern changes, feeling it on her chest and hearing it 10x louder now that your head was turned slightly to the side, "Bill—Baby, fuuckk... plea—!"

"Hm?—Tell me, Mama, tell me." She mutters, almost begging you as her hips slap against yours each time she fully bottoms out. An evil smile is plastered on her face, but you don't know that. You don't even know what she'll say in response to your pleas to cum. But, you honestly don't think you'd be able to hold it either way, "Too fucked out to speak, s'that it? Can't even think, can ya? My dumb girl."

"Cum—Wanna cum, please, need t'cum!" You warn, your voice a mere squeak as you pull at the sheets. Tears streak down your face now, her silence making it impossible for you to keep whatever composure you had left. Billie breathes softly into your neck, kissing your shoulder before coming up to press a sweet kiss to your neck. Much sweeter than the words that fall from between her lips, "I think you can wait, hm? Since you made me wait so fuckin' long for this." She shakes her head in faux disappoint, scoffing.

"Hold it." She snarls, eyes narrow, lips parted and swollen, hips relentless. The headboard hit the wall in time with her hips, bedframe creaking beneath your bodies as she fucks you wildly, making it impossible to obey her commands. You try to squeeze your thighs together, but she doesn't let them close, sighing in annoyance as she gives your throat a warning squeeze, having you gasp for air, "Just a little longer." She groans, almost like she can feel the way your pussy clenches around her dick, walls fluttering from the immense pleasure.

Cries and whines are the only things that can leave your throat, dry from the screaming and moaning you've been doing for almost—Fuck, you didn't even know at this point. All you did know was the size of her dick, the sounds of her groans, and the look on her face as she fucked you recklessly. The bed shook, and you were sure her neighbors would be here in the morning to complain about the noises, but neither of you cared. The only thing either of you cared about was that you finally had each other.

Your vision blurs from the tears in your eyes, trying your best to keep them open but failing in the end as she pushes her body closer to yours—if that was even possible—and hits you at a different angle, the silicone cock sliding deeper between your walls. She's almost surprised at how well you're holding up, a smirk on her face as she tries her hardest to break you, free hand pulling and twisting at your nipple as her other squeezes your throat from time to time.

"Cum." She finally allows. It takes you a moment to register, but once you see her head nod in your blurred vision, you let go. The light, wet ring around the base of the dick only gets whiter as your juices flow onto her, squirting onto your thighs and parts of hers as your body shakes uncontrollably beneath hers. Your back arches further, chest pressing harsher against hers as you cry out her name, lower lip trembling, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou—Mm.." Your words come out in a hurry, thoughts messy and incapable of forming any other words.

Her hips slow, helping you ride out your high before she stops completely. She leans over you, fingers unraveling around your neck and coming up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your tear-stained cheek with a look of adoration in her ocean blue irises, "Y'think she'd be able to do that?" She teases, giggling softly at your mumbled words, your eyelids fluttering open and closed, clearly sleepy.

"Shh.." You giggle stupidly, pushing her face away weakly. You gasp quietly when you feel her pull out slowly, wincing at the slightly overstimulating feeling. The emptiness makes you frown, whining like a baby as she pulls away from your body completely, "No, no, Ma, m'right here." She coos as she comes back into your blurry vision, strap discarded somewhere on the floor. Her hands wrap around your body, enveloping you in warmth as she cuddles close to you, "She can't compare." Billie whispers, knowing damn well she won the stupid challenge that she made up.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

What was I made for?

please note that this work tackles the mind of a mother in postpartum depression, if that’s not your cup of tea please don’t read it.

you had always heard the saying sad mothers raise bad children. what you didn’t expect was your husband slapping you in the face (not literally) by saying those exact same words to you.

if anyone ever asked you where you’d find yourself after 5 years you sure as hell would not believe that it would be in the arms of a formula one driver married to him with a baby on the way.

When you had met lando he was still deep in his party ways and clubbing habits, slowly but surely he grew out of it and became more of a boyfriend then a fiance and then finally a husband.

When you saw the positive pregnancy test you almost freaked out. Kids were not on the table at all with lando always being half way across the world due to his job and you not wanting to raise a child till his career calmed down a bit.

Fate had other plans for the both of you it seemed.

Lando’s first reaction was of shock and disbelief he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he would be a father. It seemed so strange that he would be responsible for a little soul.

Once the initial shock wore out he was up and about getting things ready for the baby.

This is when you started slipping more and more into your head and away from your husbands eyes.

It almost seemed like lando didn’t see you as you and simply saw you as a vessel that was carrying his future baby.

You didn’t want to sound ungrateful but it was like you had lost your own identity.

Unfortunately that would only worsen as the baby came.

Little Charlotte Norris arrived after grueling hours of pain and suffering. She was such a precious thing so small and innocent and yet when you saw her you didn’t feel a thing.

It felt sickening, how bad of a mother were you to not feel the joy and happiness when looking at your own child. If lando could do it so could you.

You felt like a monster unable of loving your own flesh and blood.

Things worsened for you unfortunately.

Everyone who ever came to visit only bothered asking about the baby and how she was no one once bothered to ask if you were okay. You didn’t look okay it was obvious yet everyone swept it under the rug including your husband.

Your deep hollow eyes and sore body was ignored by the man who vowed to be with you through thick or thin. It was a slap in your face when your daughter preferred to be with your husband over you. Charlotte had a problem latching to you correctly and would cry out of hunger, each high pierced cry would make you feel more and more like a failure. your own daughter hated you.

When lando came back he immediately noticed the screams of his little angel yet ignored once again the crumbling figure of his wife. you couldn’t help the tears that left your eyes when lando snapped at you for keeping his precious daughter crying and away from him.

That’s when you died on the inside.

A part of you simply couldn’t do it anymore.

With each pill your heart numbed itself from the pain and your mind went foggy. You felt at peace finally being able to keep the two people you loved the most in this world happy.

Lando wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore and your daughter wouldn’t have a sad mother who would raise her. Everything seemed like it would work out all without you.

[flemingology]

kitbag chronicles ─ alessia russo x reader

in which: you voice your love for alessia through the notes you put in her kitbag

warnings: none, tiniest bit suggestive if you squint

wc: 1.4k

a/n: finally got around to writing something for my number 1. this is so incredibly random and it's all over the place, but idk i lowkey kinda like it... i think? idk i probably shouldn't reread it because i might hate it if i do. hope you enjoy!

Ever since you and Alessia started dating, the England striker had made it very clear that she loved the little things you did for her. Memorising her coffee order, remembering her favourite flowers, new scented candles in her favourite scent on a bi-weekly basis. If you asked Alessia, she would say you were the most thoughtful person she’d ever met.

You’d grown to love the smile you put on your girlfriend’s face with those small displays of affection. You were forever seeking new ways to show your love for her, without stating the obvious over and over again. It kept both of you on your toes, always working on your relationship and making the other fall in love with you over and over again.

The last couple weeks, you'd found something new to do for Alessia. Her busy schedule keeping her away from you almost every single day of the week, you had to find ways to work around it and to remind Alessia that, even when she was at the club, you were thinking about her.

Since a couple months, it had become a little tradition that you prepared Alessia's kitbag. It wasn't much work at all, all she put in there were a shirt and a pair of trousers, or shorts – based on what the weather was like that day in London. You insisted that you did it for her, claiming that that way you felt like she had a little part of you with her during the day.

Today, though, you felt like trying something different. When you were younger, your mum always prepared your lunchbox for when you went to school. To make it a little extra special, she always added a little note for you to discover when you had lunch. It could be something funny, a drawing or simply a reminder how much she loved you – you didn't mind the teasing that came with it from your friends.

You figured it would be something Alessia loved, seen how much she usually liked it when you did little things like that for her. So this morning, after putting the blonde's training top and trousers in her kitbag, you grabbed a note and started writing something down. You decided to keep it simple for your first time of doing this, something you knew would just give Alessia a little spring in her step for the rest of the day. "Go get em, Lessi. Can't wait to have you home with me again tonight," is what you decided on, quickly putting away the pen and putting the piece of paper in her bag before she could see what you were up to.

When Alessia left later that morning, you pushed her kitbag in her hands, as you did every day. With a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips and a quick hug, she was out the door with the promise of cooking together later that night. Love goes through the stomach, or whatever they say.

It was no longer than 30 minutes later when your phone chimed with a message from your blonde lover.

From: Less 🤍 I got the note, baby. So cute. I love you so much :')

You smiled brightly at your phone screen, a warm, fuzzy feeling coursing through you at the idea of Alessia opening her kitbag and finding the note. You quickly typed a message back to her, wanting her to read it before she inevitably had to get her day going at the training centre.

To: Less 🤍 It's true, though. Counting down the hours until you're home, like every day. Go kick ass, my love. x

With you working from home, it had been quite the adjustment. Normally, when Alessia went to the training centre, you'd also leave the apartment and be on your way to your office. But with Alessia's recent transfer to Arsenal, swapping Manchester for London, it wasn't so straightforward anymore for you to go into the office everyday. 2 hours 30 on the train or easily 4 hours by car, it just wasn't doable anymore for a daily job. So you and your boss agreed that you could work from home in London, with one visit to the office a month. You were forever grateful for the opportunity, very glad that you didn't have to find a new job in London, but it brought its hardships too.

Quite frankly, you grew quite bored at home. You had your work, and you always managed to fill the best part of 8 hours with whatever you had to do that day, but the house felt empty without Alessia. A new city, new surroundings, new apartment, you hadn't quite accustomed to it all yet and you hadn't failed to make it known to Alessia that you missed her terribly whenever she was out at training.

Nonetheless, you would never stand in the way between her and her career, it was just another obstacle that you two would have to face and manoeuvre around, but you were certain that you would navigate it perfectly. You had a strong relationship, and everyone around you would probably say that you were made for each other.

With the knowledge gathered that Alessia enjoyed her little note, you took it upon yourself to give her some more frequently. Not every day, because you didn't want her to grow old of them, but you sprinkled some in throughout the week – keeping her on her toes.

It wasn't until one particular morning at the Arsenal training centre that Alessia realized that her notes wouldn't just always be you loving up on her. She'd left you high and dry that morning before leaving, feeling you up and kissing all over your body until her alarm went off. She was reluctant about finishing what she had started, despite your whining when she left you alone in bed and had started getting ready for her day. She didn't want to be late, understandably, but she also left you with a very uncomfortable throbbing between your legs. Her promise of continuing her ministrations later that night hadn't really convinced you, and you decided to tease her a little about it through a note.

This time, unlike all the other times you'd left a note in Alessia's kitbag, you didn't receive a message about. Not just that, the Arsenal striker hadn't texted you all day and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about what you did. You didn't want to push it too far, but you were starting to feel like you did. You texted her a little after lunch-time, wishing her a good gym session, but you got left on read.

Later that day, when Alessia came home, you were nervous to approach her. You were upstairs, finishing up on a couple of e-mails, before you went downstairs and joined the blonde who had plopped down on the couch and turned on the football. "Hi, baby," you said softly, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Alessia tried to put on a sour face, but her resolve weakened quickly when you pressed another few kisses all over her face.

"That was mean, you know?" cocking her head at you, eyebrow raised and index finger pointing at you. You couldn't hide the smile that crept on your face. "Don't give me that, Russo! If anyone was mean, it was you. This morning. Leaving me all worked up like that," you reasoned, pointing your index finger right back at her, poking her nose in the process causing a small smile to form on her lips.

"You know what, you're probably right," your girlfriend started, leaning closer towards you and trapping your body in between her arms, positioning the two of you so she was hovering over you on the couch. "That was so incredibly unfair of me and I think it's only right that I get the opportunity to make it up to you."

Alessia dipped her head towards your neck and started pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You hummed and tangled one of your hands into her hair, slightly tugging when you could feel the scrape of her teeth on your sensitive skin. "You're lucky I love you, Russo," you breathed.

"Oh, I know. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you, please."

[lokissweater]

beetlejuice!

{beetlejuice!satoru gojo x f!reader}

— “ may you never forget me ” ♪ ༘⋆

summary: living as a psychic medium was like a ticket straight to nothing in your life, you always accidentally creeping people out and scaring them when you talked about it, and you just feeling empty— like something was missing and vacant in your life with no explanation as to why. but upon stumbling through an attic inside a house of a recently deceased couple, you meet him— beetlejuice, a silly and wacky man who was damned to live in the attic for eternity due to him breaking the rules, you never having met a spirit so forward and flirtatious in your life as you quickly bonded. but when beetlejuice presents the idea of you being able to break his contract and finally set him free, you hesitate at the one condition… marrying him.

warnings: MDNI afab!reader, DIABOLICAL angst my god, angst w/ comfort though YIPPEEE, mentions of death, mentions of murder, reader is a psychic medium, fluuufff, SMUUUTTT, p in v sex, DOM AFF SATORU MEOOWWW, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, oral, blowie, mentions of ghosts and spirits and things, loosely inspired by the 80s movie, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 19.8k

authors note: YEEEEEOOOOWWWW GET READY YALL….. SHES FREAKY… SHES ANGSTY… AND SHES THE MOMEEEENNTTTT omg i absolutely LOOOVEDDD writing this one so much and i hope you guys find it interesting or i’m gonna CRYYYY HEHEHEH no i’m jk but as always, i love you SO SO SO much and thank you for all of your love and support !! MWAAAHHH <333

you’ve always had a knack for the paranormal.

and from the newspaper clippings you saw and the meddlesome whisperings of your fellow neighbors, newlyweds adam and barbara maitland died on their way home from a day out in the town— swerving in their vehicle while crossing over a bridge and crashing through the side of it, evidently sending themselves tumbling down to the river below and drowning.

it was the biggest tragedy your tiny town had ever been hit with, the maitland’s having renovated their house on the hill from scratch and had recently just finished it when the accident happened, the both of them in the midst of planning their honeymoon to get away from winter river for a little while, happy and in love and looking forward to a quiet serene life together.

it was a shame, really, and it only took two weeks for rumors to spread about how there were always weird moving shadows from the windows of their two story home, or slight flashings of neon blue or white seeping through the cracks of their front door— all of which pissed the realtors off seeing as the rumors prevented the house from being sold again, prospected buyers coming in with high hopes only to be scared off once they so even explored the town, a store clerk or a fellow neighbor quick to tell them of the gossip and to stay away, ultimately causing the house to collect dust and cobwebs until realtors decided they wouldn’t bother much with it anymore.

and the rumors always peaked your interest, as your entire life you’ve always had a passion for the supernatural seeing as your late parents were psychic mediums for the otherworldly, a beautiful ominous gift that was relayed to you from the moment you were able to correctly comprehend sentences, your mind and soul more welcoming to spirits of the unknown compared to regular folk who flat out refused.

and why? you didn’t know. they were just mystic entities that perhaps couldn’t find their way to the other side like they were intended, and if the rumors were true, the maitland’s were in the same predicament, and you felt like they just needed time and space without the pestering of realtors or dumb kids knocking on the windows to see if a ghost would pop out— deserving of a proper chance to figure it out.

except your boyfriend wouldn’t understand that either.

“babe c’mon!” he pleaded with you, a distressed look on his face. “i thought you liked creepy ghost shit?”

you scoffed. “yes rin but not to fucking break in and steal their things! what the hell’s the matter with you?!”

rin groaned and rubbed his eyes, his friends obviously annoyed and bothered by your defiance and it only made you feel awkward, sitting there on your desk chair in your college dorm and guiltily picking at your black nail polish.

“y/n we literally cannot go if you don’t go.” he pushed. “we need your ghost brain to tell us if they’re around so we can scram if they decide to kill us.”

you snorted, already aggravated by rin’s lack of respect and wholeheartedly believing dumb stereotypes.

“you’re committing a crime—”

“the house is abandoned! no one gives a shit!” he threw his arms up. “babe c’mon i’m serious it’s getting late and we’re losing time.”

why wasn’t he listening?

“what are you looking for anyways?” you mumbled.

“money.” he replied, grabbing his black bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “that’s literally it i won’t take anything else.”

“do you swear?” you peered up at him. “don’t take jewelry or any of their things just money and we get out.”

“yeah we won’t! right guys?”

rin looked over both of his shoulders to ensure that his friends agreed, them muttering and sighing as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek and feeling embarrassed for some reason, slowly standing and crossing your arms.

you never liked his friends.

“and leave me out of it okay?” you spoke. “we could get kicked out of college for this i don’t know how you’re not worried…”

he swung a heavy arm around your shoulders and nudged you on, you stumbling a bit as he basically had a lock around your neck on your way outside.

“they’re not gonna care y/n.” he dismissed, unlocking the car and his friends piling in the back while you settled in the passenger seat. “nobody will. it’s abandoned.”

the entire way there you were aggravated and guilty, rin and his friends babbling on about the valuable things they’d hope to find and the kind of ghosts they thought would appear, not a single person in the car an actual believer of those paranormal rumors as they poked fun and teased, your forehead against the glass of the window and miserable as rin drove up the steep hill— the night chilly and so dark that you could barely make out the shape of the house until you were just about to pull up to the driveway.

rin turned off his headlights and tuned down the radio to avoid drawing attention, steering wheel shifting a little to the right so the car could gradually round over and stop next to the front steps of the porch— rin shutting off the ignition once he parked and stuffing his keys into his pocket.

and you could immediately feel a presence even from outside the house, your arms stiff and tingly as you all quietly got out of the car and made your way to the stairs, dry dirt crinkling beneath your shoes as you tried to swallow back your nerves knowing that at any moment you could all be fucking arrested.

“are you sensing ghosts?” rin whispered, a sly teasing grin on his face as the floorboards of the porch creaked with your movements, his hand reaching and jiggling the doorknob.

“yeah.”

his eyes snapped over to you. “…really? yeah right.”

“no i’m serious.” you whispered back. “what did you bring me for if you’re not even gonna believe when i tell you—”

“okay! okay i’m sorry.” he apologized, though it didn’t seem genuine as he patted your back. “i believe you trust me.”

“wait— she said there’s ghosts?” one of his friends piped up. “how do you know?”

you went to answer but rin beat you to it.

“she’s a psychic… i guess.” he unzipped his bag and pulled out a mini tool kit, a mix of screwdrivers and bobby pins inside. “she can sense them.”

“oh my god…” another one mumbled, all of his friends eerie now. “rin— i thought you said those rumors were bullshit.”

your eyes narrowed. “you said that?”

“no!— i mean, technically yes but—” he took two bobby pins from the kit and put the rest of the box away, hunching down to lock pick the knob. “you guys really think any of that is real? it’s just the neighbors man they’re bored—”

“people here don’t just make up rumors like that rin.” you cut him off. “the majority of winter river is elderly and in retirement why the fuck would they be making up—”

“because they’re old and bored—”

the lock released a prominent click and rin tested the doorknob again, this time it turning all the way and opening as he pushed it wide, you all proceeding cautiously and it somehow being colder inside than it was outside as the group shined their flashlights around every corner and space, not bothering to tell your boyfriend that the presence you felt earlier was ten times stronger now, for rin never really believed you or just thought you were being funny whenever you mentioned things like that to him.

you had known rin since the start of college, him always the rebel dickish type as he didn’t follow directions or liked whenever people tried to tell him what to do, and how you ended up crossing paths with him and it sticking was something that was a mystery to you.

rin was everything you wanted at first.

and though he was a bit selfish, you foolishly looked past the fact and let him meddle his way into your already monotonous life, it being hard for you to make friends in the first place because of your psychic abilities— always feeling like something was missing and… vacant for years growing up without any explanation as to exactly why, figuring it was just the side effects of your parents’ passing.

but it still didn’t help when you’d accidentally partake in scaring off and weirding people out when you mentioned that you just saw their deceased relative wander by, rin being one of the first to actually stay because he didn’t believe you, choosing to turn a blind eye to something you treasured about yourself the most, stuck and left to wonder if there was ever someone who did.

but turning a blind eye to just your psychic ability became him turning a blind eye to everything about you, and you felt like he never really listened to what you had to say or cared, often switching the topic back to himself or giving you a series of ‘mhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ to get you to move on.

you didn’t feel seen anymore, but you loved him still for some reason.

“where do we even look?” one of his friends whispered, the lot of you traveling as a group through the entry room and down the hall to the kitchen.

“wherever you think a money bank would be.” rin mumbled, leading you all and going round to the living room, his flashlight shining over dusty furniture and spiderwebs. “i think it’d be better if we split up. half of us can take upstairs and the others can look through the kitchen, y/n and i are gonna dig through here for a bit—”

“what?” you spoke, his friends nodding and walking off to their designated areas. “rin no i told you i’m not—”

“oh my god babe— would it really hurt you to just peek in some freaking drawers? let me know if something looks like it has money in it alright?”

he stepped over to the middle and crouched by the coffee table, opening and closing several compartments. “be useful please.”

you scoffed. “you’re the one who dragged me here and i told you i wasn’t getting involved.”

“you’re not.” he mumbled, standing back up and going over to a big brown dresser on the side. “just look at shit and don’t touch anything. tell me if you see money.”

you rubbed your cheek in exhausted frustration, thinking it’d be better to just mindlessly look around to appease him as you caught and stared at the photographs over by the fireplace— a wedding portrait of whom you assumed to be adam and barbara maitland propped up amongst others of family and friends, your fingers raising to gently wipe away the dirt and grime from the glass to get a clearer look of them.

you felt awful that their lives were taken from them just when they had built such a loving foundation for it, and you felt even more awful that rin and his stupid friends were invading their space and stealing in the way that they were with no sense of respect.

a sudden loud thud from upstairs made you and rin stop in your tracks, the both of you unmoving as you tried to listen.

“i’m gonna—” you gnawed at your bottom lip. “i’m gonna check upstairs—”

“no absolutely not.” rin shook his head. “it’s probably just my friends it’s fine.”

“if it’s the maitland’s your friends aren’t gonna know what to do besides shit themselves—”

“okay yeah sure.” he laughed, opening and closing different drawers from top to bottom. “it’s the house babe it’s old and worn out. maybe the— wood or whatever is acting up.”

you pursed your lips, arms crossing and apprehensive as you stood next to him, knowing with everything in you that the maitland’s were definitely still present.

“can we please just go rin...” you asked softly. “please we’ll— we’ll find a different building that’s actually abandoned and doesn’t have the maitland’s still here—”

he scoffed. “y/n this one is abandoned.“

“but it’s only been three months!” you exclaimed. “i don’t wanna do this to them—”

“—oh sweet! there’s a rolex in here—”

“no!” you snatched the watch from his upheld hand and backed away towards the fireplace. “you swore to me just money these are their things—”

“y/n they’re dead! who fucking cares? all of their shit’s gonna be donated might as well pawn it.”

“yeah for your own benefit right?” you mumbled, pushing past him and walking down the hall. “i’m going home.”

he looked at you baffled. “are you serious? over a dumb watch?”

“rin you’ve gone back on everything you promised and you’re not taking me seriously—”

“did i take the watch? no i didn’t so stop—”

“i’m not talking about just the watch!”

“you know what?! fine!” rin shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys, chucking them at you and hitting against your chest as you scrambled to catch them. “go wait in the car.”

you threw them back and they hit his upper arm, his eyes narrowing at you in return as he then bent down to grab them from the floor.

“i’m not waiting in the damn car i’m walking home.”

“you’re walking?” he shook his head. “back to your dorm? that’s gonna take you like an hour y/n.”

you shrugged.

“fine go i don’t give a shit.” rin muttered and rolled his eyes. “you always do this man—”

you didn’t bother to stick around for anything else he had to say as you trudged on down the hall and back to the main entryway, tears brimming your eyes at the lack of care he had for you and scolding yourself for the thousandth time for staying with him, trying to understand why he was like this with you when all you’ve ever done was be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t fucking deserve it.

it was hard for you to tell if he even loved you anymore, and you always psyched yourself out that he did whenever he’d barely just accomplish doing the bare minimum.

upon arriving at the front door, you placed the rolex gently on a lonesome night stand by the coat hanger, your hand reaching and turning the knob to step outside until another loud thud shook through the walls, and louder this time as you pulled back and craned your head to look up the stairs.

muffled voices seeped from the top as they gasped and whispered to each other to shush, you recognizing some to be rin’s friends with irritation and worry simmering in your brain, wondering if they were messing with the maitland’s things and stealing what they weren’t supposed to steal, as they were just as uncaring and selfish as rin was throughout the time that you’ve gotten to know them.

and with that in mind, you let go of the doorknob and quietly walked up the stairs, every creak and groan from the wooden slabs underneath your feet making you wince as you went further and further until you reached the top, you sighing as you saw that the maitland’s room door was wide fucking open and with snickering inside.

but with each step that you took to get closer… the more prominent the goosebumps on your arms became and the heavier the feeling in your gut grew, a strange apparent flickering light from your right blinding your vision for a moment as you stopped and turned to look.

your eyes slightly widened, a neon lime green foggy light practically oozing from the attic staircase as it streamed over half of your frame, luring you in with your body mindlessly and curiously walking towards it and up the rugged squeaky stairs, fingers quickly reaching up to swing the attic door open and halting in alarm once you did, the green aluminous light from earlier completely encasing you entirely now as you stepped forward inside the attic.

the door swung and slammed itself shut suddenly, you jumping and spinning around with hurried hands coming up to pull and tug at the knob, breathing irregular upon realizing that it wouldn’t fucking budge and was somehow jammed with no explanation as to exactly how—

“boyfriend troubles?”

“oh my god!” you screamed, hand flying over your heart as your eyes snapped to the source, a tall lanky man standing there with a little grin and vibrant pale blue eyes that only utterly confused you, his vertically stripped black and white suit peculiar and unique as your frantic eyes darted over his figure.

you knew for a fact that the strange man before you wasn’t adam maitland, for the way he looked now didn’t match the pictures you saw in the newspapers at all, you swallowing thickly and slowly backing up against the attic door with your heart dropping straight down to your ass.

who the fuck was he? was he— was he a spirit? because if not there’s a random man literally just basking and relaxing inside the—

“relax! relax jeez you look like you’re about to vomit sweets.”

sweets?

“are you dead?!” you blurted, hand scrambling behind you for the doorknob. “are you— are you alive how are you—”

he laughed loudly and wiggled his little index finger— scrunching it up and down to elicit a ‘yes’ and finding your skittishness a little funny.

“yup! so dead very dead.”

“o— oh… okay...” you spoke softly, tense shoulders gradually relaxing as you gave him a small timid smile, relieved that he wasn’t a freaking squatter and doing god knows what up in the attic.

“you seem happier to see a dead man rather than a live one...” he looked at you amusedly. “you like ghosts? scary stuff? haunted houses? handsome me?—”

you nearly choked on your spit at his last comment, an awkward smile wobbling across your face as you played with your fingers.

“i— i um..” you looked around, your eyes catching a book titled ‘handbook for the recently deceased’ sitting neatly on a dusty table by the door. “you could say that.. but—”

you hesitated, the man’s head tilting to the side as he waited for you to continue.

“but what pretty?”

you blushed furiously, never having met a spirit so forward before.

“sorry but— how did you end up here?” you stood on your tippy toes to peer over his shoulders and around the attic. “and where are the maitlands?”

“oh, those lousy goodie two shoed meanies?” he mumbled, pouting and bitter as he crossed his arms. “beats me..”

you laughed a little, guard slowly coming down as he didn’t seem or feel like a bad person to you, and you thought that perhaps he was in the same boat as the maitlands and was just trying to find his way to the other side.

“why are they meanies?” you smiled, and he reciprocated, arms falling to his sides.

“well— i’m kind of being held in the attic against my will by the— holy shit wait!”

he threw his hands out in front of him and took quick stride full steps towards you, a wild excited expression on his face and you stiffening up again, backing up against the door.

“you can help me!”

“help… you..?” you squeaked.

he vigorously nodded. “yeah! the butthead caseworkers down in the netherworld banned me from leaving the attic… but you can give me a little leg room in my contract sweets!”

netherworld— caseworkers— banned—

“huh?!” you exclaimed, brows furrowed and utterly confused at everything he was fucking saying.

you’ve only ever seen spirits from afar or casually talked to them about something fleeting before they went on their marry way, but never in your life have you met such a complex soul that was so animate and asking you for a favor straight off the bat… as spirits usually just— knew what they were doing and eventually figured out how to get to the great beyond.

so the subject of caseworkers and the netherworld and whatever the fuck else he was rambling on about was something you were not familiar with.

“i did something they didn’t like.” he gave you a boyish half smile. “so they did some ritual thing and now i can’t leave the attic.”

you frowned. “why would they do that? what did you do?”

he waved you off and swung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you forward with him towards a huge 3D model in the center of the room that you barely just noticed— intricate and detailed and colorful as your brain put two and two together and figured out that it was a model of the entire city of winter river.

“don’t worry about it! but i overheard juno telling her assistants not to say my name three times or else i’ll be let out to roam around the house—”

juno? who’s juno?

“—and that’s why i really need you sweets because i’m dying in this fucking attic… way more than i already am.”

you blinked at him. “i’ve never— i’ve seen spirits all my life and i’ve never had any of them tell me about caseworkers? and juno? who’s juno?”

“the rule is that the land of the living isn’t supposed to know.” he pursed his lips and dropped his arm from your shoulders, picking up the book that you had spotted earlier and passing it to you. “says it in the handbook.”

you timidly took it from him and flittered through the pages, old and crinkly and a little worn out as the gist of the pages you saw was a guide for those beginning their post-livelihood and the steps they needed to do so— from waiting rooms in the netherworld to being assigned a caseworker to help you out to the great beyond and so forth, your eyes falling on a particular page and catching specific line.

‘live people ignore the strange and unusual.’

they do. wrongfully they do.

and since people had been ignoring you out of fear your whole life… did that mean you were strange and unusual too?

“what?” the unknown man spoke, softly as his blue gaze switched between your solemn expression and the book, shifting his position to stand right next to you and see what you were looking at.

“oh sorry!” you laughed it off, closing the book and placing it down. “nothing i was just—”

“‘live people ignore the strange and unusual?’” he repeated. “what about it?”

you shook your head and sent him a small smile. “nothing! i was just looking—”

“just because you can see spirits doesn’t mean you’re strange or unusual.”

you stilled, eyes big as you watched the way he froze up over what he said, sheepishly relaxing after a moment and lifting an arm to pat over your head.

“sorry pretty. i can read and manipulate minds and i poked in yours...” he looked at you apologetically. “it’s another reason why they threw me in this shit hole.”

he dropped his hand then, a sincere glint in his eyes. “but i mean it.”

“i don’t know…” you mumbled, looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt. “i’ve never really had friends because of it… and i feel like that book kind of confirmed what i’ve been thinking.”

you quickly picked your head up. “oh but— it’s okay! i’m okay i’m used to it spirits are nicer anyways and i’ve always been alone so—”

“that’s not true.” he mumbled.

your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

he funnily froze up again. “what do i mean what?”

“what’s not true?”

“oh! that— that spirits are nicer!” he quickly sputtered. “they’re assholes. all of them. every single one. including me!”

you giggled at his franticness and a smile spread across his face at that, endearing as he watched you slowly cheer up.

“people’s ignorance doesn’t define who you are sweets.” he spoke gently. “so don’t give them that right. you look perfectly fine to me!”

your eyes softened, wondering what the hell this man did that made the caseworkers down in the netherworld ritual him into a contract, as you were convinced it wasn’t even that bad at all and just straight up unfair, him being one of the kindest and silliest souls you’ve probably ever had the privilege to come across.

“i’ll help you.”

his eyes snapped to yours. “huh?”

“i’ll help you!” you spoke sweetly. “i’ll say your name three times so you can leave the attic.”

“wha— really?!” he exclaimed excitedly, hands animatedly flying everywhere as they went from digging into his white locks to all over his suit and then thrown out to grip over your shoulders, shaking you as you giggled again. “holy shit will you actually?!”

“yeah! why not?” you grinned. “i don’t think it’s right that you’re stuck up here all alone.”

“angel! angel! you’re an angel!” he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and stuffed your face into his chest, squishing you so fucking tight and honestly holding you way longer than he should’ve, but you not minding one tiny bit as you hugged him back and smoothed a comforting friendly hand over his broad shoulders.

“what’s your name then?” you muffled against his suit. “so i can—”

“ahhh fuck.” he muttered. “i forgot about one thing.”

you pulled back a little. “hm?”

“i can’t tell you my name.”

“what?” you looked at him confusedly. “what do you mean? why not?”

“it’s part of the stupid contract sweets...” he sighed heavily. “but i can give you clues! ooo!— like charades! ready?”

“oh! o—okay!” you nodded, him finally letting you go and stepping back.

“don’t freak out.” he grinned in a silly way. “i’m about to make things show up.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “make things show up?”

he waved his hand and a life sized fucking black bug appeared out of nowhere, landing on one of the old wooden rocking chairs in the corner of the room as it wiggled its little legs and peered around, you screaming and flying behind the strange blue eyed man while he laughed loudly and looked over his shoulders for you.

“it’s okay! just a figment of your imagination is all.” he cheesed. “but guess now!”

“guess what?!” you shrieked.

“what that is!” he pointed to the bug.

you peeked an eye out from his side, the bug still gross and horrifying as it wiggled it’s antennas.

“a bug!”

“what kind?”

“a beetle!”

“yes!” he nodded vigorously. “okay that’s the first part!”

“your name starts with beetle?!—”

he waved his hand again and the bug disappeared, a carton of orange juice replacing it instead and floating in mid air, a shiny glass cup next to it as you amazedly watched it pour its bright orange contents into the cup without spilling a single drop.

“…orange juice?” you spoke softly, timidly coming around from behind him. “your names beetle orange juice?”

“not quite!” he made a drinking motion with his hand.

“beetle drinking orange juice?”

he laughed. “no! you’re adding too many words pretty take some out.”

“beetle drinking juice?”

“nope.”

“beetle drinking orange?”

“colder.”

“beetlejuice?—”

“yes!” he threw his hands out, eyes wild and excited. “yes that! and you’ve already said it once now just two more times—”

“beetlejuice.”

“uh huh uh huh—”

“beetle— mmph!”

a pair of hands clasped over your mouth from behind you and pulled you back, you letting out a muffled scream as you thrashed and quickly pried their fingers away, you spinning around and fully expecting to see rin behind you with a shit eating grin and laughing in your face for scaring you.

except it wasn’t rin.

it was the maitlands.

“don’t say his name honey.” barbara spoke first. “trust me… don’t.”

“i mean— are we sure about this sweetheart?” adam looked at his wife. “maybe he isn’t all that bad… hell we don’t even know for sure—”

barbara shook her head. “adam, did you not hear a word juno said? he was about to take advantage of that poor girl!”

take advantage?

you heard a scoff behind you and you turned around, a disgruntled and pissed off look on beetlejuice’s face as he crossed his arms.

“jeez i know you don’t like me but that’s low.” he mumbled. “i wouldn’t do something like that.”

your head turned back to barbara. “you know who juno is?”

she nodded. “juno’s our caseworker… we got assigned to her in the netherworld after we died.”

“took us three months waiting in the waiting room until she finally got to us.” adam added, chuckling in humorous disbelief. “but all she really did was nag at us and warn us about him.”

adam pointed behind you and you turned around again, beetlejuice bitterly looking to the side with his lips pursed.

oh god.

had he been feeding you nonsense this entire time?

“warn about what.” you mumbled, and beetlejuice snapped his head in your direction with anxious eyes.

“juno calls him a bio-exorcist.” barbara informed you. “he tried to illegally cross over to the land of the living and bring himself back to life.”

your eyes bulged open. “back to life? how?”

“you switch souls with someone else through a ritual.” adam piped in. “juno says he attempted to trick and switch souls with somebody that was alive so he could terminate all who were living… and they didn’t even know about it.”

“that’s not true!” beetlejuice countered, utterly exasperated. “the old hag made that up!”

he quickly walked towards you, taking your hands in his and looking at you pleadingly.

“please sweets you’ve gotta believe me i never wanted to kill anybody—”

you ripped your hands away and glared. “so this entire time you’ve been lying, playing some hopeless victim so you can poke into my head and find out shit about me to use to your advantage?—”

“no! no i— i haven’t been lying about anything it’s juno!”

“juno.” you repeated coldly. “and what’s she lying about exactly.”

“about killing the living!” he threw his hands out in emphasis. “she literally pulled that out of her ass when her and her minions banned me—”

“and what about tricking that person to switch souls with you so you can come back?”

he faltered, words completely failing him and guilty eyes looking into yours so deeply that it nearly made you feel bad for yelling at him.

“that’s… that’s true.”

you let out a breath of disbelief and barbara put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently and comfortingly as she looked at you with caring eyes.

“we don’t know what to believe either honey.” she began. “it’s a lot of he said she said… but it’s better to be safe. he tried to get us to say his name three times too in exchange for his help.”

you quirked a brow. “help? what do you guys need help with?”

“your buddies downstairs.” adam sighed. “they’re stealing our things and just messing up the house… but we’ve been watching you and we know you’ve been trying to get them out and so have we… horrendously though.”

“oh my god—” you slapped a hand over your gaping mouth. “i totally forgot about them! i’m so so sorry oh my god i can’t even begin to explain to you how embarrassing this is i’ve been telling them to stop—”

barbara laughed and waved you off. “it’s alright! we know sweetheart. but we’re not frightening enough to scare them off whatsoever… so that’s what we were trying to get his help for.”

“and i still can y’know…” he muttered. “even though you hate me.”

“i don’t hate you juno does.” she crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “adam and i are lost we don’t know what’s going on and we can’t even read that thing for the recently deceased.”

“we’re just trying to get them out of the house son…” adam finished off.

and in that moment you felt like you were the one responsible for this. that if you had bitched about it harder, even screamed at rin to get him to stop or damn near called the fucking cops on them so that this wouldn’t be happening right now… the maitlands wouldn’t have to suffer and struggle like this every waking day to protect their home and what rightfully still belonged to them even after death.

because the maitland’s roaming around and producing shadows and figures and scaring the realtors and prospected buyers off wasn’t just for shits and giggles… but to try and keep what was once theirs and feel a sense of normalcy for the life they once had.

that was their great beyond. their home.

“i’ll get them to leave.” you smiled at barbara and adam. “i don’t care if i literally have to start fist fighting with his friends this is so unfair—”

“wait! are— are you sure sweets?” beetlejuice interjected worriedly. “your boyfriend’s kind of nuts and i can’t help you once you leave the attic—”

“i’m sure.” you mumbled, still bitter and annoyed at him. “can’t be anymore nuts than you basically trying to kill someone so you can prance around alive again—”

“i already apologized to the entire netherworld nation for that!” he argued. “but if you ask me, if it’s so bad then they shouldn’t have put the fucking instructions in the guidebook.”

“juno says guidebook reveals to you what you want most.” adam spoke. “because barb and i didn’t see a single page that had to do with that… mostly just tips on how to scare the living.”

beetlejuice closed his eyes exhaustedly and shook his head. “doesn’t matter. i’m not trying to trick anyone right now i just want to get out of this damn attic—”

he looked to you again. “—please say my name three times pretty i’ve poked in your boyfriends head and he’s looney i don’t want you to—”

“i’ll see you guys in a sec!” you walked over to the door and left a sputtering frustrated beetlejuice behind. “if nothing works i’ll literally just take my boyfriends keys and drive the car down the hill, he freaks over that thing—”

your voice trailed off as you walked down the creaky stairs of the attic and down the hall of the second floor, the maitlands main bedroom coming into view as you tried to get a script together in your head as to what exactly you were gonna tell rin… but your footsteps quickening at the sound of loud yelling and laughing coming from inside the bedroom, sounds of glass shattering and moving furniture making you panic as you practically stumbled in from the doorway.

and your heart stopped, rin standing there with a crow bar in his hands that he got from who the fuck knows where, smashing multiple vases and porcelain jewelry cases and stuffing his pockets full of anything that looked shiny and valuable in his eyes, the mattress and blankets thrown over to the side and the mainland’s things just completely ransacked as you took it all in.

“rin!”

he jumped and spun around, brows pinching upon seeing you standing there.

“what are you doing here? i thought you left?”

“what the fuck?!” you gestured to the broken shards on the floor and strewn about articles of clothing. “what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“calm down babe it’s fine.” he turned and smashed another small jewelry case, you scoffing in response. “it’s all useless shit that’s gonna dust over—”

“get out.”

he snorted. “uh huh—”

“i’m serious rin get out.” you spat. “all of you.”

“yeah like i’d listen to you.” he spoke harshly, eyes narrowed and sharp as he turned again. “go wait in the fucking car or go home—”

“i’m calling the cops.”

“what?!”

a series of protests and worrisome comments erupted in the air from the group, all thrown directly at a fuming rin as he chucked his crow bar to the side— it clattering on the wooden floor as he hastily trudged over to you and gripped your upper arm, yanking you with him and out of the room into the hallway by the stairs.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing huh?” he spoke lowly and in your face. “embarrassing me in front of my friends like that?”

you shoved him off. “get out and find another building or i’m calling the cops rin.”

“yeah and if you do that i’m telling them you’re a shitty psychic medium so they can throw you in the shrink.”

your jaw dropped.

rin was being meaner than usual.

“why are you like this.” you mumbled. “i don’t even know why i’m still with you you’re an asshole and you’re pathetic—”

he got in your face again and grabbed your jaw, pressing you up against the railing of the staircase and damn near throwing you over as the edge of it dug into your lower back, your fingers gripping his arm and struggling to pull him away from you while his friends quietly gasped and silently watched in shock.

“pathetic? me?” he laughed humorously. “you’re the one who doesn’t have anything or anyone besides me and yet you still treat me like this you ungrateful bitch—”

“rin okay that’s enough dude let her go—”

“you wanna shut up? or do you wanna trade spots with her?” his fiery crazed eyes switched over to his friend, him only cowering under rin’s intense stare and shaking his head no, diverting his gaze and you still squirming and tugging for your freedom.

“get— off me—”

“or what?” he pushed you further back and your breath hitched, your feet off the ground now at this point as one of your hands shot out to grip the railing for support. “you gonna call your ghost friends for help? go ahead i wanna see you do it you lying—”

“beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice!”

a thunderous roar broke out into the air, actual lightning and black smokey fog spreading over the ceiling and around you as rin instantly let you go and looked around, all of his friends in a pure state of fear and alarm as they lost sight of each other amongst the suffocating mist— including you as you frantically tried to look for a clear path out, unable to decide if you regretted what you had just done.

“never seen a man with such a power trip!” a booming voice echoed through the house that you quickly recognized to be beetlejuice’s, the walls vibrating with each word. “seems to me like it’s all bark and no bite!”

“what did you do y/n?!” you heard rin’s distant yelling from somewhere you couldn’t pinpoint, the air cold and prickling at your skin. “who did you call?!”

“a god!” beetlejuice excitedly answered. “achilles preferably! wait actually he’s a demigod not a—”

“who the fuck is achilles?!”

the air cleared in the center suddenly and revealed a petrified rin, wide eyed and angry as he whipped his head around to try and figure out what was going on.

“you don’t know who achilles is?” half of beetlejuice popped out of nowhere from above the fog and his friends screamed at the mere size of him, for he wasn’t the normal looking man you saw before but a borderline monster— huge and crazed as he looked down at rin in particular with a scary grin.

but his eyes were still a fascinating sparkling blue, oddly familiar in a way as you watched the scene before you through the black air, beetlejuice continuing.

“read a book your stupid is showing.”

he lunged while simultaneously popping his eyeballs out of their sockets with his tongue out, cartoonish and terrifying as his friends yelled for help and scrambled to try and leave, struggling though the smothering mist as you placed a hand over your mouth in shock.

beetlejuice sucked his eyeballs back in and blinked to adjust. “what? you guys scared too? shouldn’t have been so mean to my little sweets over there then!”

they all looked to you and you froze, rin’s gaze narrowing.

“his little sweets?” he clenched his jaw. “the hells he talking about?”

beetlejuice didn’t know why rin was so dumb for even attempting at getting near you again after everything he did and said— his footsteps quick and stompy towards you until he straight up smacked into an invisible wall and doubled back with a hand over his nose, your brows pinching in confusion.

you timidly reached a hand out, expecting your fingers to touch an invisible barrier except there wasn’t one at all as they fell through completely over nothing, your arm slowly retracting back to your chest.

you looked up at beetlejuice’s huge figure, and he gave you a bright cute smile that made your cheeks heat up.

“this is bullshit!” rin roared, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand and pointing at you after. “you’re a goddamn nutcase y/n! what kind of show are you putting on huh?!”

“me?!” you shot back. “maybe you should stop being a dick for once in your life and listen when i tell you things you idiot.”

“yup!” beetlejuice quipped. “doll if you’re still with him after all of this i’m gonna have to start haunting you in your dreams.”

your gaze switched to beetlejuice and you laughed, a little glint to his eye as he watched you shake your pretty head.

“i was gonna dump him the minute i got him out of the house—”

“what?!” rin barked. “dump me? for what?!”

you scoffed. “are you serious? what do you mean for what?”

“fuck— babe okay i’m sorry alright? i’m sorry i’m just a little overwhelmed right now—”

“you’re a sack of shit.” beetlejuice spat. “and call her babe again and i’ll start the engine of your car and ram it through a tree.”

you snickered and rin swiveled around to face him.

“why don’t you stay out of this freak and leave my girlfriend alone—”

“sweets i’ll make him go away if you marry me.”

you choked, flustered and stiff as you looked at him, bewildered out of your mind.

“huh?!”

“pretty pleeaaseee.” he dragged. “you saying my name got me out of the attic but not the house itself… but if you marry me i’m a free man!”

“how does that—” you let out a shocked breath. “how does that even make sense—”

“marry me.”

“but i!—”

“marry me that’s my condition.”

“hold on!—”

rin dove at you with the full intention to grab you and pull you away, but eyes widening in terror as an invisible force practically grabbed his ankle and sweeped him back and away from you, dragging his body across the wooden floor and over to beetlejuice, his friends having enough of all of this and making a run for it down the stairs.

“oh! i almost forgot about you guys!”

beetlejuice nudged his head and they were sent flying back just like rin, all of them screaming and pleading for mercy as their bodies dragged across the floor and returned to him.

“which of you should i gobble up right now… i’m feeling the one on the far right! he’s trembling like a little leaf—”

“please no!” he cried. “i’ll— i’ll do anything! i’ll leave i’ll never—”

“—and i’ll save rin for the very end… best for last right?!”

they all wailed and clawed at the foggy air, your body unmoving as you tried to figure out if beetlejuice was actually being serious.

“please man!—”

“i’m sorry i’m so sorry!—”

“don’t apologize to me you doofuses.” another invisible force grabbed them all by the ankles and pulled them up, dangling them upside down. “apologize to her. then maybe i’ll spare you… how’s that sound?!”

“y/n! please! i’m sorry—”

“we’re sorry dear god!—”

“y/n!—”

“put— put them down!” you wavered. “that’s enough it’s okay! jesus..”

“awww already?!” beetlejuice pouted. “but i haven’t even started swinging them around yet… like a little ferris wheel! heh.”

you slapped a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh once rin and his friends started wailing in fear again, you shaking your head and smiling at him.

“it’s okay! next time! just let them go i’m sure they’ll run—”

“y/n, it seems like you understand me… you’re the only one that hasn’t bitten my head off in the entire three years that i’ve been dead!”

you laughed again. “i’m glad! now put them down please—“

“so be my wife then.”

“beetlejuice!”

“what?!” he whined. “you don’t wanna be my lawful wedded wife?”

“no!— well— just—”

“is it because i’m dead?”

“put them down and i’ll consider it!”

“yes ma’am!”

the invisible force dropped them and they slammed against the hardwood floors, each and every single one of them fumbling to get their things that flew out of their pockets while upside down and scurrying away, hurried footsteps stomping down the staircase as they tripped over their feet to get to and out the front door, you observing in amusement and slight guilt, leaning over the edge of the staircase to watch them go.

and the second that they did, the stuffy black fog lifted and felt immensely lighter, it dispersing into the air above you as it thinned out to a mere silly mist, cold and wet to the touch and similar to the air you’d feel after a long days worth of rainfall and cloudy weather, slow strides coming up from behind you as you saw beetlejuice’s shiny raven leather dress shoes out of the corner of your eye, you standing upright and turning to him.

he smiled warmly at you.

“thank you.” you grinned, bashful as he reached and fixed up your hair— hands smoothing over your head and down before his fingers lightly grazed and played with the ends of your strands.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “thank you for getting me out of the attic sweets!”

you kindly nodded.

“sweetheart, are you alright?”

you looked back and saw the maitlands, barbara walking up with outstretched arms and pulling you in for a hug.

“that boy was insane!” she pulled back and held you out at an arms length by the shoulders. “we tried so hard to intervene while he was yelling at you but we’re useless… they couldn’t see us.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay! really you didn’t need to i wouldn’t ever wanna put you guys in that position.”

“honey— he almost pushed you off the railing…” adam spoke softly. “if you hadn’t called for beetlejuice lord knows what he would’ve done… he was so aggressive and we were worried…”

your heart warmed, never in your life having been so cared for and looked after— funnily enough that you were receiving that sacred feeling from beings that were dead rather than living and it reminding you a little bit of the way your parents were with you when you were young, when they were still alive.

“we’re sorry for being so hard on you kid…” barbara sighed, gaze shifting to beetlejuice. “mistakes happen. i’m sure your passing was something you weren’t expecting like us.”

“oh! no it’s okay don’t.” he smiled brightly. “i almost killed a man i understand.”

“but we understand too.” adam added, and you felt like he was also referring to something you had no clue about as he had a particular look in his eyes, something that was only amongst them three. “i would’ve considered the same.”

beetlejuice swung an arm around your shoulders and looked down at you.

“so are you my little wife?”

“okay—” barbara laughed. “not that you know this—”

“adam! barbara!”

a sudden shriek boomed through the house and beetlejuice instantly pulled you behind him, waving his hand and an invisible force sending you further away until your back gently bumped against the wall, panic rising in your chest as the same black fog from earlier returned and swirled around you, blocking your vision.

was he… was he hiding you? what for?

“juno!” beetlejuice greeted, laughing awkwardly. “heyy long time no see!”

oh.

“zip it bozo.”

from the cracks and openings that you could see through the whirling wind, a proper old lady in professional office attire stood there with her arms crossed, a pissed off look on her face as she tapped her heel against the floor and played with the pearls around her neck.

“what did i tell you two about letting him free?” she scolded. “he’s a loose cannon! he’s not to be trusted!”

“i know i know we’re sorry… we just really needed to get those kids out! and they’re gone! and beetlejuice seems alright!” barbara looked to her husband, a desperate flicker in her gaze. “right adam?”

“yes! uh uh!” adam stepped forward and sighed softly. “please juno… he’s just a kid. he’s learned and what he did was three years ago—”

“what he did could’ve cost me my job and set my entire office up in flames.” juno lectured, pointing her wrinkly finger at beetlejuice next. “you broke a million undead laws and have hundreds of violation codes on your record. your punishment was to stay in the attic for eternity.”

eternity?

oh god no.

“but now i’m gonna have to send you to live inside mr. maitland’s winter river model and you better stay there!”

“what?!” beetlejuice scoffed. “juno please there’s gotta be a way i can lift those violations?”

“i’m afraid there isn’t.” she seethed.

“pretty please?”

“no.”

“with a cherry on top?”

“absolutely not.”

“not even probation?—”

“not even probation! you’re gone!”

your eyes blew open as you watched juno extend an arm out and move it to the side, a bright white blinding light encasing her entire figure and you quickly pushed a hand through the black fog and grabbed the back of beetlejuice’s suit, everything around you scarily blurring out and disappearing and you squeezed your eyes shut, arms reaching out to wrap around his upper torso as you buried your face in his back.

you didn’t want him to go… not at all. and the thought of him stuck inside a model forever like that all alone terrified you.

you understood why he was punished in the first place, but why couldn’t juno just see that he was good? that all he was trying to do was come back to life and live? something many others souls would also kill for?

hadn’t he been punished enough already? he stood stuck in that attic for three god damn years straight with no means of escape whatsoever, and now he was shamefully being sent to live inside a styrofoam cardboard model that was far worse than that stupid attic, for now he couldn’t be seen by anyone even if he truly wanted to be.

had that not been enough? enough of a sign to reconsider his contract?

why couldn’t he just be given a second fucking chance—

“pretty?”

you opened your eyes, forehead quickly detaching from his back and looking up, his piercing blue eyes staring down at you worriedly from behind as he shifted his body a little in your hold to face you.

“what are you doing here i thought—” his surprised gaze shifted over to the way you were clutching onto him, and he relaxed, smiling a little.

“you grabbed me baby?”

“i—” you let him go and stepped back, your cheeks a vibrant pinky shade. “y—yeah…”

he turned around fully.

“why?”

“because—” you bit your bottom lip, peering cutely up at him.

“because i thought we were getting married…”

beetlejuice’s expression dropped and he stared at you wide eyed, his face reddening at your words.

“i don’t— i don’t understand—”

“what?” you giggled. “i thought you proposed to me earlier?”

“i did! yes i did!” he rapidly nodded. “but— but are you actually serious?”

you nodded. “mhm! i am!”

“you can say no sweets honestly it’s okay…”beetlejuice spoke softly with pinched brows. “i’ll cry myself to sleep and shrivel up but i can handle it don’t worry about me—”

you laughed and nudged his shoulder with yours. “i wanna marry you… i wanna set you free.”

you walked over to a little bench, the feeling of you stepping on rubber and glue a little weird under your feet as you sat down and smiled, gently patting the spot next to you.

“i’m not letting you stay here forever by yourself, not when you’ve been doing that already for years.” you murmured, him taking a seat next to you with a yearn-full but apprehensive face.

“you deserve to do the things you want to do and see the things you want to see…” you looked at him so sincerely and loving that he felt his undead heart throb. “… and if i can help you in anyway to get you there i don’t care what it is. i can’t think of anyone more deserving of freedom than you.”

“you’re so pure…” he softly took your hand, yours warm and pumping in comparison to his cold and stiff one. “you always have been.”

he stared at your hand still, his index finger delicately tracing over the faint markings of your working veins underneath your skin, trying to remember what they looked like on him when he was alive, and if they ever looked as precious as yours did.

beetlejuice raised your hand and kissed it, eliciting a fuzzy blush to your cheeks.

“i think we’re meant to be.”

you faltered slightly, for you felt a rush of deja vu hit you like a stifling wave.

“have we met?” you teasingly asked. “before you died?”

he laughed and shook his head.

you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, beetlejuice still tracing the lines and indentations of your hand before you spoke up again.

“i have a question.”

his content eyes switched to yours before they looked back down. “yes sweets?”

“is your name really beetlejuice?”

he weirdly stopped, and you quirked a brow.

“it’s…” he swallowed. “it’s not.”

“oh what the?” you paused, a little puzzled. “where did it come from?”

“juno.” he snickered. “the old hag said it fit how bizarre and stupid i was, so she put it in my contract.”

“oh my fucking god.” you mumbled. “why the hell would she do that? that’s cruel… you’ve already paid the price for what you did the least she could do is address you by your given name.”

beetlejuice laughed cutely, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

“that woman doesn’t care baby… so don’t sweat it.” he lifted a hand and ruffled your hair. “and if you ask me, she needs to retire immediately. like— yesterday. all she does is fucking nag at me and the rest of her damn clients.”

you giggled.

“so what’s your name then?”

“not important! now i say we figure out a way to get out of this rinky dink model—”

your eyes narrowed.

“why won’t you tell me your name?”

“—or maybe we should just stay and make ourselves at home!—”

“you won’t tell your soon to be wife your name?—”

“—oh! oh! i can manifest a little jacuzzi in the middle of the cemetery that’s neat—”

you slapped a hand over his mouth and he stopped, your pleading little eyes making him guiltily melt against your hold.

“your name.” you urged softly, lowering your hand and revealing a little frown that he had on his lips. “please.”

“i—” he blinked, utterly remorseful. “i can’t… i can’t tell you my name.”

your brows pinched. “why not? is part of your contract?”

“no— well yes.” he sighed deeply through his nose, and you wondered why he looked so… strained.

“it’s not their contract, but my contract… with you.”

you froze.

“with—” you struggled. “i don’t—”

he rubbed his tired sunken eyes.

“it’s okay sweets but that’s all you need to know—”

“no.” you replied firmly. “what i need to know is your name.”

he dropped his arms and shook his head desperately. “y/n please i put that contract on you to protect you if— if i tell you my name you’ll be hurt and i don’t want that—”

“what do you mean?” you bitterly scooched away from him on the bench and he stubbornly moved closer, eliminating the distance you had created.

“i lied when you asked me if we had met.”

your heart dropped.

“because we have… and i— i wanted you to forget me so i took away your memories and if i tell you my name—”

he swallowed hard.

“… it’ll break the contract. and you’ll remember me again.”

you stared at him, his regretful tortured gaze so anguishing that it was almost unbearable to watch him endure it, wanting to mend it instead, something that already felt so right and easy to you and in no way shape or form unfamiliar.

slowly, you reached up and cupped his cold cheeks in your hands, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

“but i want to remember you…” you murmured. “…please let me.”

his pupils worriedly shook as they darted all around your striking features, his name practically hanging off the edge of his tongue but his throat physically unable to get the words out, for his dead heart was pulling and fighting with his vocal chords to prevent him from doing so, everything within him wanting to save you from memories he had to live with even after death.

but the other part of him was filled with such intense longing for you that it effortlessly slipped between the cracks of his defensive wall of not telling you his name…the relentless feeling going straight to his heart and mind and strangling the fuck out of it to get a formidable yes instead.

he wanted the life he once had. more than anything.

“satoru.”

something snapped in your brain and you flinched back, memories flooding through your mind faster than the speed of light as you recollected each and every moment in your existence, for the sentiment of vacancy and like a specific thing was just missing in your life was finally put back in its rightful place— for the thing that was missing in particular was him.

satoru gojo.

there were images of meeting him when you were both itty bitty in middle school under a magnolia tree, him sporadic and silly and making you laugh so hard on the third day of school that strawberry milk blew out of your nose and all over his clothes, satoru not having a care in the world as he cackled along with you and thought the way you made liquid come out of your nose was cool.

and there were images of the both of you becoming the best of friends— never one without the other as you pulled pranks on your teachers and ended up in detention together almost everyday, your parents utterly done with you as you never seemed to get it through your head how to behave, the both of you brushing off your scoldings and lectures because you had each other to endure all of it with.

and you saw how much he cared about you.

how he would physically fight and yell and reprimand anyone who called you a freak, anyone who spread rumors about you and your psychic medium abilities as he constantly reminded you everyday that your gift was sacred… a treasure while he wiped your tear stained cheeks and cheered you up after another day of your classmates poking fun at you, him saying that your skills were the coolest and how much he wished he was just like you, how much you both were meant to be as he loved ghost stories and scary stuff.

you saw how you fell in love too.

and it didn’t take long either, as your stolen glances and teasing turned into much more as soon as you grew and went to high school together, the both of you making it official literally your freshman year despite the apprehensions from your parents on both sides because of how young you were.

but it never proved to be an issue, you and satoru not once stumbling over a hiccup since the two of you had built such a strong foundation of genuine friendship and care before you blessedly fell in love, satoru throughout your years together absolutely smitten over you as he always passed you silly notes during class that had a gazillion hearts scribbled all across with your name in the middle, telling you all of the time just how much he loved and cherished you to the point where you had to funnily push him away from you to get him to stop smothering you, you always giving in anyways due to the fact that you were just as smitten, physically unable to go a day without him, and him still physically unable to not iterate how you were meant to be.

satoru understood you, satoru listened to you, and satoru believed you whenever you would speak on your psychic gift and how you had spoken casually to a spirit just the other day, him always interested and unbelievably amazed at everything you had to say as he bombarded you with fifty questions and begged you to teach him how to see spirits too.

he was respectful and supportive of you through it all.

especially when your parents died.

satoru wouldn’t leave your side. he refused to as you tried to piece together what the fuck had just happened, their accident so sudden and weird that it never made sense to you and still didn’t to this day.

and you grieved of course, cried and weeped and clung to satoru like a moth to a flame, feeling alone and without your biggest support system— without your loving peculiar parents that gave you your priceless gift in the first place, him accepting your tears with open arms as he encouraged you to let it all out and was worried for you when it seemed like you had moved on rather quickly from it.

but it was simply because your parents weren’t afraid of the afterlife. it was because your parents had talked so much about it and taught you everything that they knew, that you were convinced their souls peacefully made it through to the great beyond straight away and together, for you never saw their spirits roaming around aimlessly after and feeling eternally grateful for that, your whole life being about acknowledging and embracing the mysteries of life after death.

the knowledge of knowing they were at peace was enough to get you by for a little while.

satoru continued to check in on you about it though... even when it was the end of your junior year and nearing a year since their passing, his parents kindly taking you in after the ordeal and making satoru sleep on the floor and you taking over his bed since they didn’t have an extra room, satoru doing it without even needing to be told and you thanking all of them any chance you got for their amicable kindness and tried to pay them back, satoru checking in on you every night with a series of timid ‘are you okay’s’ and ‘are you happy’s’ before going to bed, your arm dangling off the edge so you could intertwine your fingers while you slept.

you were never alone like you thought you were. ever.

because of satoru.

and he made it obvious that he wanted to marry you too, that he wanted to have you for the rest of his life and didn’t give a single shit if you were both only 18 and barely starting college, him deeming it pointless for the both of you to pretend like the hope of marriage wasn’t there just for the sake of shutting up his parents, as every time he brought it up you stammered and blushed and fidgeted and he only giggled at you, telling you it would happen soon, to be ready, and to sit pretty and patient until the right time came.

except it never did.

because satoru gojo died a year later following that on halloween, precisely on his way over to your dorm when he was snatched by an unknown man and murdered in the middle of the night, you stuck wondering what had happened to him and why he wasn’t answering the phone when he was hours late to come get you, your chest on fire and aching as the feeling in your gut was weirdly excruciating, a part of you completely torn away and lost and you had no idea why until the very next morning.

and he had to watch you mourn. properly this time and not at all like the way you did for your parents, as this time it was fucking worse, painfully and all alone and for no way for him to get to you and comfort you— to tell you it was okay to cry and that he loved you, to tell you to be happy, to be hopeful for the future and hopeful to the thought of spending the rest of your lives together and being meant to be.

but instead he had to watch you wail and scream in your pillow every night with no saving, clutching his clothes and things and picture frames, you making yourself sick as the grief was too much to bare— everything that your parents had said to you and taught you about the afterlife meaning absolutely jack shit as the workings of supposed fate took away the only thing that ever made you happy.

satoru’s dream was to live with you. and it was taken away from him so brutally that he went absolutely nuts in the netherworld.

because yes he violated every single fucking undead law in the book and jumped over restricted gates and strange passage ways and doors, shoved through emotionless security guards, ignored juno’s warnings, and yes he tricked a living human being so he could exchange souls with him—

all for the sole purpose of getting back to you.

it was always for you.

and now, him sitting next to you with an anxious waiting expression, your body and mind now feeling the effects of not having seen him for three entire years and the way your conscious mind grieved for him and his return, his skin sickishly pale and cold but still so handsome nonetheless… absolutely broke you.

it broke you as you let out a strangled hiccup and covered your mouth tightly with both hands, eyes squeezing painfully shut as you reeled over and wailed with a broken heart, for you were mourning the loss of him all over again.

“baby no please—” he quickly caught you and brought you to his chest, his breathing erratic and with the biggest lump in his throat. “see? i didn’t want you to remember i— i wanted you to forget—

you continued to bawl and borderline scream out in agony, his words meaning absolutely nothing at this moment as your mind wouldn’t quit flashing painful memories through your mind, memories that were once entirely missing as they suffocated you with displays of satoru in his grave over and over and over again.

“i can’t—” he frantically looked around for something, anything that would make you feel better before looking back down. “look at me—”

“why did you leave?!” you wailed, pushing him away as the sight of you drowning in your tears ripped him to shreds. “why did you abandon me toru?! why did you—”

“i’m sor—” his voice gave out and he placed a hand over his heart, tears slipping from his eyes. “i’m sorry i’m so sorry i— i never wanted to leave—”

he reached out and tugged you in again, your body slumping against his as he struggled over his sobs.

“i didn’t want to die i tried so hard not to die—”

his words only made you cry harder as he gripped you tighter and shut his mouth, his frame trembling against yours and his tears trickling down and wetting your hair.

“you left me! you were supposed to come— hic— to come get me! you were supposed to marry me!—”

you were babbling mindlessly at this point, your shattered heart taking over the words that were tumbling out of your mouth as you gripped and clawed at his suit, trying to bury yourself in his skin and stay there where you belonged.

he was too cold. and you couldn’t hear a heart beat.

satoru could only cry and bawl with you as he gently rocked you side to side, knowing that there was nothing he could do to make you feel better, and nothing he could do to come back to life.

no matter how much he wanted it.

no matter how much you wanted it.

this is what fate had decided for the two of you.

“i tried so hard.” he mumbled. “i never stopped trying to get to you that’s why juno hates me so much because i’ve violated fucking everything.”

he pressed his lips to your forehead and laid his cheek on it after.

“i got sent to the attic and i couldn’t look after you anymore and i didn’t even get the chance to let you see me either—”

besides the fact that he took your memories, that explained why you never saw his spirit after he died, and you quickly pulled back again and narrowed your bloodshot eyes at him.

“why did you take my memories i never— hic!— i never asked you to i never wanted—”

“because i didn’t want you to grieve over me pretty…” he gently wiped your cheeks while you cried. “you were hurting so much and it was torture watching you suffer like that.”

you sniffled and wiped your eyes with the base of your palm.

“i wanted to see you happy…” satoru finished off.

“was i?”

he dropped his hands and frowned.

“were you?”

“no!” you muttered. “my entire life i’ve felt like something was missing and i didn’t know why… like this— this block in my brain that i couldn’t figure out and it was always just empty and like something was supposed to be there.”

you tucked your hair behind your ear and solemnly looked down, a pulsing headache racking through you from how much you were crying.

“i had to live with the fact that i was alone and that i never had anyone… and i had accepted that too… only this entire time i did have someone. you.”

and oddly enough, through everything that happened— all of the memories that you now remembered and the devastating death of your late boyfriend, you finally felt a little bit less strange and unusual.

because you always thought that something was wrong with you for feeling the way that you did, for craving something— someone that never existed, for wanting to fill the void that you now know satoru once happily sat in, all of these things now officially clicking into place and bringing you the weirdest sense of peace you had probably ever felt.

“i wish you never made me forget.” you mumbled. “you’re worth remembering toru…. even if it hurts me.”

he guiltily nodded and sniffed. “m’sorry… i thought you were better off forgetting.”

a part of him still does, because the small glimpses he caught of you no longer crying and just simply living after he took your memories away, was enough to bring him a tiny sense of relief just before he got banished to the attic, hopeful that you would live a long and happy life even if it was painfully without him.

but the minute he sensed you coming up to the house earlier that night with him thinking he was going absolutely insane and if it was truly you, was also enough to send all of that out the fucking window and falling back into a pit of despair and longing for you when he finally saw you again— for the first time in three years, looking just as pretty as he remembered and a little more grown up.

you slowly shook your head side to side, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck and him immediately responding, snaking them around your waist and pulling your warm beating body flush against his chest.

“do you still love me?” he murmured. “even though i’m dead?”

you slightly snorted, softly kissing his cheek.

“i’ll always love you toru. wherever you are.”

“i’ll always love you.”

he pulled back and gently smiled, eyes flickering to your soft lips as he juggled in his mind if it was okay to kiss you, every fiber of his undead being begging for it after missing and wishing it for so long, left with only recollections of your kisses to suffice through the years that he spent without you and wondering if he still had the right to— since even though you were once his, and he shamelessly still considered you his, he didn’t know if you were on the same page.

but you were.

it would be stupid not to be.

you leaned your pretty little face closer to his, timid doe eyed gaze looking at him so fondly that it brought back that same familiar feeling he felt with you those years ago, his hands coming up and settling themselves on your warm lively cheeks, holding you like fragile porcelain.

but were his dead lips still worthy of yours? even after everything he’d done?

“toru.”

he hummed.

“do you remember our first kiss?”

“uh huh.” he breathed out softly. “it was in my room.”

“i think—” your nose brushed with his. “i think we should have our second first kiss.”

he bit his bottom lip and smiled.

“you think so?”

“i do.”

he hummed again, his thumb gently grazing over your plushy lips.

“i think it should look a little more like the first time.”

he tilted his head to the side a tiny bit and a delicate gust of wind brushed through your hair, your surroundings now completely and miraculously morphed into his room with the both of you sitting on his bed— just like how you remembered it and basically had grown up in as you slowly took in your surroundings.

“how the fuck—”

he laughed a little, lifting one hand and keeping the other still on your cheek, his index finger lightly tapping the center of your forehead.

“mind manipulation pretty.” he grinned. “cool huh? i poked in your head again.”

“yeah!” you giggled. “very cool.”

“you know what else would be cool?”

“what?”

“if you gave me a little kiss.”

you tilted your head to the side and leaned in again, your breath fanning across his face and your lips so close but not quite that it was fucking excruciating.

“you want a kiss toru?”

“uh huh.”

“how bad— mmph!—”

satoru didn’t even let you finish that sentence as he stuffed his tongue in your mouth greedily, wet and messy kisses smacking through the room as he cradled your jaw, cold lips delving all over yours and him giddy over the sensation of your warm mouth in comparison to his, your hands clutching his blazer and making out so sensually as you made up for the time that was stolen from you.

and the only thing the two of you felt in each others arms then was serenity— one pumping, working heart and the other stiff, unmoving and cold, still equally beating for one another even through the restrictions of death, for satoru’s heart continued to move and love you regardless of how lifeless it may have appeared.

he suddenly pulled away, breathless.

“sweets?”

“yeah?”

“where in the actual fuck did you meet rin?”

you laughed, pulling back a bit to look at him with a regretful look. “knowing what i know now, i’m sick to my stomach toru.”

“did you meet him after i died?”

you nodded. “he was in one of my literature classes… and since back then i only remembered living my life— alone, i guess he was the first person that didn’t make me feel that way. at the start.”

“lame.” he mumbled. “you cheated on me sweets.”

“no!” you laughed again, giving him a little pout. “he was awful. horrendous. and i only stayed because i didn’t wanna be alone again… even though i shouldn’t have.”

you leaned and gave him a soft tiny lingering peck.

“did you love him?” he murmured against your lips, and you shook your head.

“remembering you again made me realize what being in love with someone was supposed to feel like.” you reached and brushed through the front stands of his white hair mindlessly. “and it was no where near what i felt for rin. i didn’t feel anything for him actually.”

he pursed his lips to the side, eyes squinting in thought and distaste.

“hmmm…”

you giggled. “what toru?”

he hated that you got associated with a guy like that, and hated even more that rin was kissing and hugging and touching you whenever the fuck he wanted when you were his first.

“i’m gonna haunt him for the rest of his life.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and nudged him. “honestly? do it. he sucks.”

“and you know what else sweets?”

you quirked a little brow. “what?”

“i’m gonna make you forget!”

“toru!” you giggled. “no more taking memor—“

satoru leaned his face closer to yours and you froze up, wide eyed as a little mischevious glint in his vibrant blue gaze made you fidget.

he slowly grinned and tilted his head, lips coming closer to the side of your ear and tantalizingly hovering, arms snaking around your torso and pulling you up against him.

“did you let him touch you pretty?”

“t—touch?—”

“mhm.” he gripped you a little tighter. “did you?”

“um.” you squirmed a bit, your body turning hot in the matter of seconds. “what— what do you mean—”

“did you let him fuck you.”

your breath hitched and your cheeks went pink, hands timidly resting flat on his chest and feeling a little… guilty.

“maybe—” you paused, shaky breaths blowing through your nose. “maybe once—”

satoru shot up to stand and hauled you with him, a squeal slipping past your lips as he hiked you up and brought your legs around his waist, walking across the room in quick strides and plopping you down roughly on his desk, kicking away his chair and it slamming against the wall as it rolled back.

“toru?—”

“why can’t i make you forget… hm?” he grazed his lips from your jaw and up the side of your cheek, feather like as he squeezed and kneaded at your thighs, your heart fucking hammering against your chest.

“why would you wanna remember being with someone else other than me baby…”

“i— i don’t but you erased my memories—”

he pulled back and tutted, head shaking and fingers drumming against your thighs. “doesn’t matter! should’ve avoided them like the plague silly.”

you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him gently in.

“i would’ve if i remembered.”

“remember this remember that—” he smiled brightly and brought his face close to yours once more.

“y’know what?” he cutely pecked your lips. “i’m gonna help you remember something!”

your brows pinched momentarily in curiosity. “what?”

“that i’m the only man that ever gets to fuck you.”

satoru smashed his lips against yours and pulled you in tight, the bulge in his dress pants abundantly obvious as he grinded and rutted his aching cock on your clothed pussy, you gasping in his mouth at the feeling as you tried to keep up with his feverish fast kisses.

he slipped his icy hands underneath your top and you jumped at the change in temperature, satoru ravishing you up and obsessed with the heat your body produced and radiated, leaving him toasty for once and bringing a faux sense of life to him.

“did you forget that too?” he murmured against your lips, hands ever so slowly creeping up and sliding under your bra to grope your plump tits. “how i feel?”

“nuh uh.” you breathed out. “i didn’t—”

“tell me what you remember then sweets…”

he slid his hands back down and hiked your skirt up, you lifting your hips a little to help him bring it up as high as he possibly could, your pretty little panties tight and suffocating your pussy as his fingers came down to play with your swollen needy clit.

“i remember—” your mouth hung open, words lodging in your throat.

“hm?” he shoved his hand in your panties and your eyes fluttered closed, him placing open wet mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, your mind unable to grasp the amount of pleasure he was getting out with simply just his fingers, pleasure you missed so fucking badly as he slipped his digits up and down your folds.

“your dick—” satoru pushed two fingers inside of you and you whined. “i remember the way you felt.”

“yeah?” he pulled back from your chest and grinned, fingers squelching as they pumped in and out. “and how did i feel?”

“big.” you choked out, legs spreading wider as you gripped the edge of his desk, his frenzied lust filled eyes drinking in the way you unraveled and crumbled before him.

something he was positive rin didn’t even come fucking close to.

“aww.” he cooed, digits speeding up as you squealed and tried to close your legs, him prying them open again. “bet you missed the way i filled you full huh? stretched you out so good?”

you rapidly nodded, eyebrows contorted in ecstasy as your thighs shook.

“anything else you missed baby?”

arousal trickled down your folds at this point, making an absolute mess out of his fingers.

“your hands— heave— on my neck when you’d fuck me—”

a shiver ran down his spine at your words, his cock so fucking hard and aching as it begged him to let it spring free and bury itself in your hole.

“my god…” he whispered. “i bet your slutty little self wants me to fuck you right now right? stuff you up and make you cum on my dick like i used to?”

with each word your hole was clenching and screaming for his cock, your hands quickly shooting out to pull and unbuckle at his belt, him laughing as he continued to finger your pussy while loosening up the collar of his tie.

“you’re so needy.”

you pouted, embarrassed as you pulled your hands away and brattily tugged at his wrist to take his fingers out.

“i take it back—”

“no!” he quickly yanked his belt off and flung it, his fingers unzipping his pants and taking out his solid dick. “hell no please i need to be inside you—“

he lined his cock up and without warning pushed, your hands flying to grip his shoulders for support and crying out at the mere size of him, his dick icy in between your gummy walls that somehow added a whole new wave of pleasure for you.

“hard toru.” you whined. “please i can’t— i—”

“i know baby i know.” he gripped your hips and snapped his hips up, your moans fueling him as he plunged in your hole and took no time in fucking you in just the way he knew you liked it, proud of the fact that your pussy still took every single inch of him like he’d trained you— almost like she recognized whose dick was actually for you and not some other fucking morons.

“you’re not screwing anybody else anymore, you hear me sweets?” he tapped your cheek to get you to look at him, you completely dazed and fucked out as you tried to hold eye contact with him amidst his drilling cock. “should’ve only been me… living or dead i don’t care.”

you nodded dumbly, you leaning and kissing him sloppily and desperately that you muffled his next words, refusing to detach from his mouth.

“did you— mmph— let him cum inside?”

you didn’t answer, not because you were afraid to, but because his dick was silencing you as you hiccuped and spasmed with every slam of his hips, satoru a horny goner and pinning everything all on you even when it was literally his fault he erased your memories in the first place, fuming over the thought of you tainted by another man that he wanted to perform a full fucking cleanse.

he rammed inside of you faster against the desk as you separated from his lips and clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“don’t tell me you let him cum inside you little slut—”

“i didn’t!” you heaved. “i didn’t i didn’t—”

“good baby!” he cheered, a complete contrast to his menacing tone from seconds before. “so you do love me.”

“i do! i love you i love you i love yo—”

his unbeating heart soared.

“you love me?”

“uh— hic!— uh huh—“

“even when i’m dead?”

you nodded vigorously, feeling your orgasm starting to bubble up in your tummy as you choked and squirmed.

“perfect my sweet little thing…” he cooed once more, him literally lightheaded over the way you clenched around his cock. “make a mess all over me baby i’ve been dreaming of your cute cunt for three fucking years—”

you wrapped your arms around him by the neck again and moaned, burying your face in his neck as he placed two palms on your bent knees and spread your plushy thighs further apart, jack hammering you and so mean about it as you shook violently against him and came, heaves and sobs of pleasure racking through your body as he threw his head back and groaned.

“you want me to cum inside you?” he asked. “fill you up just like i used to?”

“yes! please please—”

“oh fucking well.”

he pulled out of you and your eyes bulged open, his dick shiny and covered in your juices as he grabbed your upper arm and yanked you down on your knees.

“you’re gonna suck me off and swallow what i give you for letting rin’s filthy hands on you.”

satoru tapped his dick against your cheek to get you to open up, you listening and opening your mouth as he shoved his cock inside and placed a hand on the back of your head, fucking your mouth as you choked and gagged on his length and loving every second of it.

“goooddd baby.” he whispered, your slobbering so nasty as he watched drool dribble down your chin. “so good…”

you gulped him down and lathered your tongue around while he used you, his balls swollen and twitching and him needing to dump his cum in your mouth for you to swallow.

“remember when we used to do this every night?” he smiled wickedly. “when i’d make you swallow me up?”

you hummed around him and tried to nod, eager for his release and wanting to show him that you in fact did remember— wanting it just as bad as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him harder.

“h— oh my god—” he fisted your hair and shivered, letting you take over and milk him for all his worth. “i’m gonna— jesus baby slow— slow down slow down— hah!”

satoru’s release shot to the back of your throat and you choked, blinking back tears as you gradually slowed your pace and continued to deliciously suck him through his orgasm and gulp down his cum, him with a death grip on the edge of his desk as he heaved and swallowed, hips jittery and twitching away from you— tip now overly sensitive.

you licked up the last of his cum and stood back up, shimming your skirt back down and satoru shakily stuffing his softened dick back in his pants and zipping it, eyes softening once you reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his over your waist and squeezing you gently.

“so you’re telling me.” you began. “that you haven’t had sex in three years and you fucked me like that?”

he snickered and smoothed a hand over your back. “it’s my instinct sweets! and also because i’m sure rin did a horrendous freaking job—”

you laughed and rolled your eyes, kissing his cheek before looking at him fully.

“i’m serious you know.”

he raised a brow. “about what?”

“about marrying you. even more so now.”

and just when he was about to pick you up and spin you around and jump up and down, he stilled— face sickishly paling more than it already was.

because satoru was keeping something else from you… a condition between the living and the dead and one he overlooked entirely because he was selfishly desperate for you and just wanted you with him again, like the way he had you when he was alive.

“what toru?”

“huh?” his eyes snapped to yours, and he quickly shook his head. “oh nothing nothing!”

his mind was frantically pushing it to the back, ignoring it and wanting to go through with the one thing he’d practically been dreaming of his entire living and dead life— marriage with you.

this was fine. this was okay.

right?

“white or black.”

you tilted your head. “what?”

“you’ll see… but choose!” he grinned. “white or black?”

a slow giddy smile grew on your face.

“black.”

satoru waved his hand and you stilled, the clothes on your skin changing and morphing into something completely anew, your eyes landing on his black and white button up suit now and head quickly dropping down to yourself— gasping once it registered in your flabbergasted brain.

you were wearing a black wedding gown, beautiful and classy as you picked up and felt the soft silk material between your fingertips, your tule sheer veil intricate as you looked behind you then— it long and stretching for what seemed like miles across the floor with gorgeous embroidery at the base of it.

it was heavenly.

your gaze snapped back to his, and he smiled fondly, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers.

“three times.” he murmured, and you picked up on what he was referring to, tightening your grip on his hand and nodding.

“beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice.”

and the room spun around you, so astronomically fast that you almost doubled over in stifling nausea as the wind whipped through your hair and veil, expecting to land in the attic and finally outside that damn model when in reality, you were in a church cathedral as soon as your surroundings had stopped spinning… and one that looked exactly like the one in winter river.

“are we…” you looked around. “are we still in the model?”

he shook his head. “nope! i was focusing my mind here when you were saying my name… we’re in winter river baby.”

you smiled, the atmosphere around you soft and serene as the dimly lit candles around you quietly flickered, a random lilac colored hue across the cathedral and one you assumed was placed by satoru himself as he took your hands in his, almost in a haste too, but choosing to brush the observation aside.

this was wrong… and satoru knew it.

but he pushed it to the back of his head again.

“we are gathered here today—”

“shit!”

you jumped and whipped your head to the side, breathing out and shoulders relaxing once you saw it was just your church’s pastor that you’d known since birth— a strange far off look in his eye that you deemed to be something that satoru did, for there was no way he was up at the crack of fucking dawn right now to do a wedding.

“sorry!” you laughed. “is he… is he okay?”

“oh yeah he’s fine! he’s actually still sleeping.” he let go of one of your hands and patted the pastors head. “i’m manipulating his head for a little bit. just until you’re my wife.”

his wife.

you nodded, cheeks so warm as you tried to refrain from jumping over how excited you were at the thought of finally fulfilling the vows you had placed on each other when you were young— them now nurturing into something real.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the love of satoru gojo and y/n y/m in holy matrimony.”

he shouldn’t do this to you.

“today, they declare their intention to build a life together, sharing their joys and their challenges, and supporting one another in pursuit of their dreams.”

he can’t— he can’t build a life with you… can he?

he pushed his worries back again and gripped your hands tighter.

“do you, satoru gojo, take y/n y/m to be your lawfully wedded wife? do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, through sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

this is wrong.

but he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

“i do.”

“and do you, y/n y/m, take satoru gojo to be your lawfully wedded husband? do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, through sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

for as long as you both shall live.

satoru can’t live.

“i d—”

“stop.”

you froze.

“what?” you asked worriedly. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m no better than the man i was when i first died.”

the look in his eyes was… odd, and it only further confused you.

“i don’t—”

“i can’t let you marry me baby.”

your heart dropped.

“what?”

“i told you that if you married me it would break my contract and i would be a free man and that’s true…” he began. “but there’s something else that i didn’t tell you... i— i kept it from you.”

oh fuck.

“what are you talking about toru.” your voice was low and heedful, almost like a warning to him, and he wanted to slam his head against the wall for being so fucking reckless again.

“if you—” he breathed in and shook his head, letting go of your hands and letting his fall tight at his sides, balling up. “if you marry me, you’re freeing me…”

he gnawed at his lip.

“but i’m killing you.”

your blood ran cold and drained from your face, words entirely at a loss and useless as your brain tried to process what the fuck he just told you.

kill you?

“marrying me is like exchanging your soul with the dead.” satoru slowly shook his head. “you’ll die sweets… i can’t— i can’t do that to you.”

satoru was desperate to for you, so much so that he was willing to hide such a detrimental part of the marriage clause until the time came, choosing to play freaking stupid and tune it out in the hopes that in the end, he would be brave enough to go through with it just to keep you and not ever have to say goodbye again.

but it was wrong. so incredibly immoral and wrong and he felt like a monster for even trying to do it, for letting it go as far as it did and have you standing there in front of him in your pretty gown and veil— just like how he’d imagined it when his blood was pumping and his heart was beating, and just like how he’d imagined it even now, shriveled up dead veins and all.

this is what fate had chosen for the two of you.

and though it took forever for satoru to accept it… you and him were simply not meant to be.

for you were meant to live, and satoru was meant to die.

“you disgraceful bafoon! you insolent crook!”

the big doors of the cathedral kicked open and juno walked through, adam and barbara maitland running behind her and trying to pull her back, the both of them spouting reasonings and explanations.

“this is her choice juno!—”

“she wants to let her do it!��”

“the kid’s just in love!—”

“button it or i’m sending you back to the house!” juno grumbled at them, turning back around and pointing menacingly at satoru once she reached you both, her brittle old lady perfume wafting in your nostrils.

“juno!” satoru greeted with faux cheerfulness, eyes wide and alarmed. “good to see you hah! you look livelier than the last time i saw y—”

“what the hell do you think you’re doing boy?” she spat, eyes switching to you next. “and you! young lady— this man is a spirit!”

“i—i know—”

“juno they know each other.” barbara spoke up gently. “they grew up together when he was alive.”

“yes they were in a relationship this isn’t him trying to trick her into anything—”

“no but it is.” satoru exhaustedly whined, cutting adam off as he ran his hands through his snowy hair. “she didn’t know about the clause… i just told her now.”

silence.

“you didn’t tell her about the clause?!—”

“are you out of your mind you cockroach?!—”

“you’re doing what you did before!—”

“i know!” satoru exclaimed over the yells of scolding and belittlement. “i know i know that’s why i told her just now… i���m not letting her do it i— i couldn’t.”

he turned to you.

“baby i want you. i need you and that’s why i didn’t say anything like a fucking dingbat because i’m tired of living forever without you... it sucks.”

you felt tears prickle at your eyes.

“but this isn’t fair to you at all. you deserve to live man… i can’t— i won’t drag you down with me.”

“toru—”

“the living and the dead were never meant to coexist.” juno interjected, her gaze looking at satoru sincerely for once that it was a strange sight for him.

she placed a hand on her chest. “i’m sorry that your love was separated by death, truly. i sympathize with you. i can’t think of anything more cruel.”

you both solemnly nodded.

“but the living and the dead were never meant to coexist.” she repeated. “so even though you two move on from this and go back to being what you are, satoru will stay like this and you will not. you will grow.”

juno addressed you directly and you listened with a heavy heart— the use of satoru’s actual given name now from her instead of ‘beetlejuice’ adding a layer of somber seriousness.

“and let’s just say this clause didn’t exist and you get to marry her and she stays alive… satoru will still stay and you will grow. do you both understand what i’m trying to say?”

you quickly wiped the corner of your eyes, satoru peeking over at you sadly.

“i won’t tell you what i think the right choice is young lady.” she continued. “the dead aren’t even supposed to associate with the living like this… but weigh the consequences of either path and see which one you want to walk in.”

she stepped a bit closer, holding eye contact with you.

“but let me make one thing clear— the power of the living is greater than the dead. if you choose to marry him, you will break his contract forever and free him of his violations. but if you do, you will die and be one of us.”

either path is difficult.

to sacrifice his freedom, or to sacrifice your life?

but you knew that a life without satoru was nothing and bleak…. you had lived it for three years.

were you willing to return to that? just to keep your heart beating? and say goodbye to satoru for good?

you didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t have him in it. you didn’t want to live in a world where you remembered satoru for longer than you’d known him, and the thought only made you absolutely sick to your stomach as you envisioned the rest of your life without the person who knew you best.

it was almost easy… you didn’t have to weigh the consequences at all.

your path was satoru.

“we’re getting married.”

“what?!” satoru frantically shook his head. “no sweets no we’re not.”

“yes we are.” you pushed. “this isn’t for you to decide it’s my choice and i choose you—”

“and i’m not letting you.” he countered. “you’re choosing wrong so unbelievably wrong—”

“but i’m not though!” you argued. “literally explain to me right now how me stuck in a world that doesn’t have you in it is better than—”

“y/n you need to live.” he cut you off. “i died, not you it’s not supposed to be you alright? i can’t to let you do this.”

tears slipped from your eyes and you wiped them right away.

“do you not— sniff— do you not want me do you want me to go away what—”

“no…” he stepped forward and cupped your cheeks. “that’s the last thing i want and you know that…”

“then why won’t you marry me?” you hiccuped. “why won’t you let me stay with you?”

“baby— life is so unbelievably precious.” he moved strands of your hair away from your face. “do you have any idea what i would give to have it again? to feel my body actually working for a change instead of it just being nothing?”

you continued to cry, your hands clutching his wrists.

“i don’t want you to take that away from yourself because of me… i want you breathing. i want your little heart pumping and your cheeks warm, i want you to move on.”

“i— hic!— i don’t want to move on from you—”

“you have to sweets.” he quickly wiped his eyes before cupping your cheeks again. “we’re not meant to be baby and i hate so much that we aren’t… and i’m sorry.”

“toru stop it—”

“please live for me okay? for the both of us. and don’t forget me either please don’t forget me—”

“why are you—” you harshly wiped your eyes. “why are you talking like that what are you doing—”

“i don’t think i should be around you anymore baby.”

“huh?!” your eyes narrowed. “are you serious?”

“satoru—”

juno raised a hand, stopping barbara from interjecting.

“it won’t be good for either of us if i stick around...” he sniffled. “i need to stay away from you because if i don’t, i might try to trick you again into giving up your soul and i can’t have that.”

“my soul?” you spat. “take it i don’t want it without you i told you already—”

“please try to understand.” he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. “please.”

“no—”

“i’ll see you soon okay?” satoru let go of your face. “graduate please. have kids and get married and stuff… travel.”

you were supposed to do all of that with him.

“satoru no listen to me!—”

“i love you.”

“stop!—”

satoru’s grief was monumental, but his love for you was greater, choosing to let you go for the sake of your life.

he looked to juno and she sighed through her nose, somehow knowing exactly what he was silently asking for, stepping forward and lifting a hand.

“satoru please i wanna stay with you!—”

juno sharply moved her hand to the side and you were pulled to a blinding white abyss, dream like and fuzzy as you felt all muscles in your body relax, your mind completely blank and free of the heartbreak and loss and sorrow for a little, floating through a cloud of soft serenity as it brought you in and tried to clear the pain in your heart.

you weren’t aware of where you were or what juno had done, but your thoughts were distant and muffled as you let it engulf you entirely in its welcoming arms, you sleepy and drowsy until the blinding white abyss slowly shrunk down to a pure black, quiet void, the nerves in your body twitching little by little until you were finally consciously aware of your limbs and mind, but you too tired still to open your eyes.

you cruelly dreamed of satoru still. of him alive.

and you weren’t sure how long you had been in this weird pit of tranquility, or how long you were asleep for until you were jerked awake and ripped from it entirely.

“hey— y/n?”

you shot awake, sitting up and whipping your head around.

you were back in your dorm.

“are you okay? why are you sleeping on the floor?”

you looked up, your roommate standing there with a weirded out expression.

“and what are you wearing?”

your gaze shifted downward, and the minute you saw your black wedding dress and veil folded neatly next to you, memories of what had happened hours prior came achingly flooding in as you scrambled to stand up on your feet, scaring your roommate and leaving her to grumble in her head about how she wished the system didn’t put her to room with the campus ghost girl.

“sorry! i have to go thank you though for waking me u—”

your voice trailed off down the hall, you running through and ignoring the weirded out looks from other students as you sprinted out of the building and down the street, engulfing the skirt of your gown up in your arms so you wouldn’t accidentally trip over it and eat shit on the ground, the goal of getting back to the maitland’s house the only thing on your mind as you ran.

your lungs burned by the time you got to the bottom of the hill, and you thanked anyone that was willing to listen for allowing winter river to exist as the smallest town you had ever known, sparing you from running a full fledged marathon just to get to the house as you heaved and tried to catch your breath, a little sweaty and hot as you began the hike up the hill.

you hoped he was there.. in the attic.

you hoped to god that he was.

reaching the top, you continued to trudge across the dirt driveway and up the porch steps, your foot lifting and just about to make contact with the old wooden platform until and invisible force grabbed your ankle and pulled you back, literally dragging you away from the house and down the hill over the grass as you screamed and thrashed for it to let you go.

satoru.

and you tried again, hiking up the hill with your bundled up wedding skirt in your arms, reaching the top faster than last time and choosing to run up the porch steps instead to see if you could outrun his ghostly abilities.

except you couldn’t, because the invisible force caught you by the ankle again just as your fingers grazed the doorknob, yanking you away and down the hill until it left you screaming and huffing in frustration at the bottom.

you continued to do that for the rest of the fucking day, and everyday for that matter, for an entire week straight.

walking up the hill, reaching the top, getting reeled back, running up the hill and getting sent back down again, sprinting for it only to get dragged away once more as the repeated cycle you had set for yourself happened over and over, until by your last attempt you couldn’t even walk up the hill anymore, satoru having put a huge invisible wall around the house that was impossible to get through.

you were angry. angry and bitter that he was doing this.

was it so bad to just want to spend the rest of your undying life with him? is that not what he wanted this entire time? why was he so adamant on damning you to live a life of suffering and— and loneliness? a life without him?

you didn’t know what to do. your psychic abilities were only for sensing the dead and being able to see them— nothing to do with calling forth spirits or summoning them at any given place and time, so there was no way for you to call satoru no matter how much you wanted to or tried.

and you cried. you cried and you sobbed just like how you did when he first died, except somehow worse knowing that there was a chance to be together with him forever and him not wanting it… not wanting you.

but you waited anyways, hoping that he would come around and change his mind, that he would bring down that stupid invisible wall and let you inside the house and back to him, counting down the days and hours and minutes until it became clearer to you that satoru wasn’t going to change his mind.

and by the third week, you had almost entirely given up.

you felt nothing. absolutely nothing as you slugged through your classes or your day to day errands, not giving a shit about anything that you had to do in this world for you had always loved the other world more— the world of spirits and the netherworld and the great beyond, the world that had satoru in it, as you appreciated and admired that one more ever since you were a kid with your parents… more than the one you were currently in— as this one was filled with ignorance and criticism.

you felt helpless… and maybe satoru was right.

if he was willing to give up an opportunity to keep you forever, then maybe that’s just the way it goes… maybe you should just accept it, and you choosing to think of the latter instead of begging and kneeling at nothing for satoru to come back and get you and marry you— was helping the bitterness in your heart grow and get you by, it at least stopping you from crying in the middle of your lectures or the grocery store and weirding people out anyways.

maybe you should accept the fact that you and him were not meant to be.

after an entire month, you had given up.

and satoru’s grave was the closest you knew you’d get to him, permanently divided by dirt and soil and grass… six feet under and totally out of your reach, his tombstone engraved and pretty and one you couldn’t believe you had forgotten about as it sat here alone for years right under your nose— you visiting it now for the millionth time as you placed your book bag down and sat criss crossed on the grass, mindlessly tugging and breaking off pieces of it as you sat there.

you sighed deeply and hugged your knees up to your chest, the day surprisingly a sunny one as chirping birds flittered past you through the wind, tiny little white butterflies occasionally stopping by to sit on your arm or satoru’s tombstone as you sat there in thought… not really sure what to think, but comforted by the fact that the engravings on his stone reminded you that he was once very much alive and real.

there was an odd wavering in your heart, and you had a feeling that this was going to be the last time you were visiting his grave, for you figured it was time to finally do what he wanted you to do— move on and forget him.

“don’t move on.”

you stiffened.

that voice… was your mind hallucinating now? jesus chri—

“don’t move on from me please… and— and don’t forget me. i take it all back.”

you heard footsteps draw nearer across the grass and you turned your head, eyes widening and unbelieving as you saw satoru standing there with a pleading anxious expression, him still dressed in his black and white suit that he had on for the wedding.

was it actually him?

“how are you…” you trailed off, your mind having difficulty processing how he was there. “how are you outside the house? i thought the contract—”

“juno gave me a hall pass…” he explained softly. “it expires at the end of the day.”

you hummed, itching to jump up and wrap your arms around him and cling to him, but stopping yourself from doing so as you still didn’t know why he was here, and you were quite frankly still bitter and hurt from him sending you away.

you slightly turned your body. “why are you here?”

“because i can’t stay away from you.”

your heart skipped a beat as he crouched down to your level, your eyes greedily running across every feature of his face and committing it to memory, as you now had him directly in front of you again instead of having to rely on recollections of him to try and mend your aching heart.

and satoru was doing the same.

“i started to sense you distancing from me and… and i had this feeling that you were starting to listen and move on and forget me and it made me fucking ill. which is crazy because i’m dead… but i was literally ill sweets.”

you let a tiny soft smile play at your lips.

“i can’t take it.” he spoke again, shaking his head. “i can’t take the thought of you forgetting me. not now, not ever, and i don’t know why i was stupid enough to try and convince myself that i could watch you do something like that even if its the right thing.”

“you sent me away.”

“i did baby…” he reached over and gently caressed your cheek. “and i regret that so fucking much. i’m sorry.”

“toru i need you to understand that you can’t make choices like that for me.”

“i know.” he mumbled and dropped his hand, eyes casting down. “i’m stupid.”

“but i also need you to understand, that i have no interest in living in a world that doesn’t have you in it… it’s not worth it now that you’re gone.”

you tilted your head to try and catch his gaze, continuing once his blue eyes flickered back to yours.

“i would die for you, and i would die without you. i look for you in everything that i do and you expecting me to just forget you is cruel.”

“no i don’t want you to forget me anym—”

“what’s life to you?” you asked him suddenly. “what does it feel to you? and mean?”

he stared at you with pinched brows, his face endearing but sad all at the same time.

“warm.” he murmured. “beautiful and… pure. it’s peaceful and it means you.”

your heart fluttered and you smiled, and satoru fell in love with you all over again— something you conquered when he was alive, and something you conquered again in death.

“that’s what life is toru.” you cupped his cheek. “to me it’s not— this.”

you gestured around you. “it’s not my body or my heart, it’s not the sun and it’s not breathing. it’s you. i feel life through you and i always have… because life doesn’t literally mean where i am now and neither does it mean the netherworld baby… it means you and me.”

satoru didn’t even realize he was crying until you wiped his cheeks, your words serving an entirely new perspective to him about the living and the dead and he felt peace.

because yes satoru was dead… but he was still living. living because he had you as the embodiment of it, and living because his soul still permitted him to see you again and be with you, to look at you with his own undead eyes and feel warmth like he did before.

but not literal warmth from your body or pumping blood or a beating heart.

but warmth from your soul. from who you are.

that’s what life was to him… and what life was to you.

satoru wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you to his chest, one hand on the back of your head as he cradled you and cried, finally now no longer mourning his past life like he’d been doing for the past three years, and no longer wishing for it back either or thinking that physically living in this world was the better option for you just because it meant you were breathing.

where he was, was just fine. and wherever you chose to go would be fine too.

but you chose to go with him, something that had been set since the moment you met under the magnolia tree back in middle school— living or dead, paris or italy, your choice would always and forever be him.

satoru proposed to you right then and there at his gravesite, flying to one knee as soon as you both stood back up and him manifesting the biggest diamond rock you had ever seen in your life, laughing and crying together as he slipped it over your ring finger, for your marriage meant the binding of the living and the dead, and the binding of you and him— a new beginning.

but this time your wedding wasn’t at the cathedral, but under the pretty magnolia tree where you had met, now accompanied by the maitlands as barbara cried, and juno as she herself officiated the wedding, you thinking— hoping that she grew a soft spot for satoru, and that behind her stern resting face, she was glad satoru was finally a free man and granted a second chance.

giving your soul up was nothing to you, and it didn’t hurt at all either… you feeling lighter in exchange actually… happy, with satoru standing in front of you and with a massive fucking grin on his face, shiny and bright as he practically jumped in his spot in excitement over you finally being his wife and that he got to keep you— and right this time… no lies or tricks or hidden secrets, but genuine authentic sacrifice instead, for it was the purest form of love.

because this is what fate had decided for the two of you.

it had decided that satoru gojo was meant to die… but it had also decided to bring you back to him as well— to the house of the maitlands, to the attic he was banished to, and back together again in each others cold arms where you belonged, defying the laws of the living and the dead and proving that life doesn’t end even after your hearts stopped beating.

fate had decided that you were both meant to be. that was always a fact.

and fate had decided that you and satoru gojo were meant to live, with unbeating hearts and icy cold skin, but souls still warm for each other nonetheless.

because through sickness and in health… death could not do you both apart.

you and satoru.

together for eternity.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @stilettoheelz @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever @yoonights @skendos @babylambdietcoke @yunstarz @dinomdubs @kalulakunundrum @s777athv @sugoroo @wastednightsonyou @miri222 @jayawaya @dazailover4ever @courtneedsleep @kcch-ns @halovianembrace @tsukuhoe @kayamor @lupicalbestwolf @therealkurapikakurta @amarahi123 @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[chuliann]

Last Song: listening to this one right now : モザイクカケラ - コードギアス反逆のルルーシュ mozaic kakera code geass[復活のルルーシュ記念]

Favorite color(s): Orange is the one I love the most and red is the one I find the most beautiful. I enjoy every shade.

Last book: Hwasan Return (comic) book 3 and Pandora Hearts book 2.

Last movie: ... It's been a while, but it was Knives Out. I'm more interested in animation movie though, one of the last ones I watched was The Boy and The Heron. Would recommend both.

Last show: ...I don't remember. But I would like to start watching Natsume Yuujinchou Shichi, now that it's finally possible!! :D

Sweet/spicy/savory: fruity. jk, savory.

Relationship status: I have friends (on internet), I am looking for friends (irl)

Last thing I Googled: not sure how to check it, but the last fanfic I have read is Tang Bo's diaries: Book 7 and I think this fact is much more interesting!!

Current obsession: Hwasan's Return, UTMV (especially Im_Sorry_Buudy's stories), Pandora Hearts, and some OT3 in other fandoms

Looking forward to: getting to read Spilled Ink again, and reading Hwasan's Return (novel). getting more of my favorite books in paper. for Hwasan's Return book (novel) to be translated in English so I can try to get them (can't read korean :'D thank you fantranslator♥), I want to try to eat dango at least once. And know the end of One Piece.

Thank you so much for tagging me! Anyone that want to, feel free to join the chain!

ten people i'd like to get to know better

tagged by: @megkuna thanks <333

last song: the phantom of the opera

favorite color: muted green

last book: uhhhhhh oh man i really need to start reading books

last movie: phantom of the opera which i watched with a friend

last tv show: the original star trek which i also watched with a friend

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet, i love sugar too much

relationship status: single and not looking, i'd rather just have more friends

last thing i googled: "how to know if skincare routine is too harsh" my pimples hurt in a Different way now :(

current obsession: probably still mob psycho 100 but it's not what it used to be. yay depression

looking forward to: when my family finally moves into the new house

tagging: @scarecloud69 @disorganised-thoughtss @daneonrainbow @lawful-goof @officialkarinuzumaki @leo-probably @vychodocech @umkayonninay @mocha-blossom @spageddy29 no pressure though <3

[beloveds-embrace]

so i have a habit of calling be love/babe/darling as a term of enderament (even in friendships) and was wondering how the dukedom guys would react to being called love or darling by the reader for the first time? I grt it probably wasnt as socially acceptable back then but the thought still plaques my mind

Historical accuracy who? We don’t know her shhh

Original post

But they’d love it! At first, you had tried really hard to stop yourself and semi-succeeded by only calling your maids like that. Your parents always hated that habit of yours, a leftover from your nanny’s own habit. They had warned you again and again and again to not let your tongue run, to keep your words polite and demure, only fallen women working in brothels would speak so freely.

And you did keep it under control for a good while; with your interactions few with John, you could remind yourself not to let your tongue loose and call him honey right off the bat when he simply calls you by your name. It’s harder with Kyle, you almost slip and call him darling, same with Johnny. With Simon it’s easier because on the times he visits, you leave him to his meetings with John and don’t bother them. (Or what you thought were business meetings at that time lol)

But once they start getting closer to you, it’s inevitable that the nicknames start slipping out.

“Kyle, darling-“ you are rushing today, and the words slip out before you realize. You just spare a thought to wonder why he’s frozen solid like that. “Where is my hairpin? I was so sure we left it on my vanity?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you say to Johnny when he brings you a platter of fresh deserts while working, not lifting your head from the papers in front of you other than to flash him a quick, grateful smile. You don’t notice how long it takes before Johnny stutters out a ‘welcome, m’lady’ and leaves you be.

“Simon, honey?” You ask on another occasion, voice too worried to notice what you’d called him. No maids around, and no one would question you calling you husband’s ‘close friend’ by his name in your home. “Is your leg okay? You are leaning on it too much, shall I call the doctor?” His silence is typical to you, but too busy fussing over his leg, you don’t see his face. Until you look up, eyes widening at his averted eyes and red-tipped ears. “Are you sick, Simon? You should be resting instead, you know?”

And at last… “John, love,” you sigh softly, controlling the tremble of your limbs. You look away from the newspaper, though you believe it should just be called a glorified gossip magazing, and close your eyes. Duke Price’s Duchess remains barren of a child! Is a divorce in their future? “It’s alright, it is what it is-“ you try to calm him.

Up until now, from the moment you’d both read the headline, John had been fuming. He wasn’t loud in his anger, but it was clear in his ticking jaw and clenched fists. So you expect him to continue in his anger.

“…I will deal with it.” John promises, voice low but no longer a rolling thunder. He sits down calmer now, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. He’s simply gazing at you, and his hands clench in the air before he sets them down on the table. “They won’t be slandering you any longer, wife. I promise you.”

You wish you could pinpoint what soothed him, but alas. Though you know he will try his best and maybe this news agency won’t make anymore comments like this about you, others will still continue to do so.

“It’s alright.” You repeat, but the words ring hollow and the smile on your face is empty. You push your plate away. “Now, if my husband permits it, I don’t believe I can stomach much more.”

“You never need my permission for such things,” he tells you; a sentiment he’d told you from the very first day. His face softens. “Go rest. Today, I will take care of everything that needs to be done.”

Darling, sweetheart, honey, love… they wonder if you know how much those words repeat in their minds.

[mononijikayu]

say so — nanami kento.

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again.  Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him. “Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Fingering, P to V Sex, Passionate Sex, Pet Names (My Love, Baby), Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, Teasing, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband, Nanami Kento is FATHER™️;

WORDS: 9.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: nanami won my poll again!!! hurray!!! here's tmi about this - thiis was half way finished when i came back to write it, but then i got sick again and i started writing this more differently than my direction. i got frustrated so i stopped for a while then i forgot about it and then i wanted to finish it.

oh, also kento and you speak danish at home, because you both feel like a secret language between you and him. gojo is also retired — thats going to be in us and them!!! thank you so much for waiting!!! thank you for reading too!!! i love you all !!! see you in the gojo fic (second place) <3

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i love you so | say so

next: little wonders

HE THOUGHT THAT HE WOULD ALWAYS BE NONCHALANT. Nanami Kento never thought he’d be the type to get jealous. After all, he prided himself on being calm and composed, grounded in logic.

But lately, things have changed. You had changed—or rather, something about you had. At least that’s what he noticed now that you’ve come back to Tokyo, so he could become a mentor to the kids with Gojo’s retirement. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Nanami Kento had finally left the endless grind of Jujutsu society, traded the blood and curses for a quiet life in Malaysia, far from the threat of battle.

But when he got that call, it felt like the past had come clawing back, unwilling to let him go. Itadori Yuji’s name on Gojo’s lips stirred something within him—something old, duty-bound, and unwilling to see an innocent youth, especially one with Yuji’s heart, left adrift.

Gojo Satoru's concern was about more than just Yuji, though. Nanami listened as the retired special grade sorcerer, sitting on a cruise across the globe, rattled off frustrations with the new leadership at Jujutsu High and Jujutsu society as a whole. All of it having formed with what he had known from his contacts back at hom.

At the center of it was Usami. That man, the strongest of all first class sorcerers, Usami, who never defied the higher-ups, who prioritized orders and tradition over compassion, whose unfeeling approach Gojo had seen all too often among those aligned with the elders.

Nanami Kento knew the type. They were the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid throughout his career, the type who saw Jujutsu sorcerers as tools more than as people, especially the students.

Now, with Gojo’s absence, Usami had stepped into a more central role at Jujutsu High, and Gojo wasn’t comfortable with it. Why would he? He’s still supporting the remaining conservative factions in Jujutsu High.

There was no other way to feel about it other than this, but concern. The return of a conservative faction, under Gakuganji, would stifle Gojo’s gambles these past few years. Gambles Kento had agreed with, even if not wholeheartedly. 

“I don’t want him making decisions for my students, you know? I’m sure you agree about that with me too.” Gojo said bluntly, his tone carrying the usual lazy confidence but undercut by a genuine concern. “They’ve been through enough. They deserve someone who understands them.” 

Kento could hear Gojo's frustration; it was an unusual tone in the voice of someone who otherwise seemed to brush off his troubles. And in that sentiment, Nanami found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t sit well with him, either. But what could he do? He is retired now, isn't he? There was no need for this chatter.

Gojo, as though reading his hesitation, chuckled knowingly over the line. “Look, I’m technically retired too, Nanami. I know your feelings about this.” he said with that familiar cheek in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t meddle. Keeps me busy as I get old, you know? Gojo clan head is empty without any drama.” 

There was a pause, and Kento didn’t know what to say. Gojo Satoru, even in their younger years, used his status to continue to advocate for his interests. And Kento didn’t like it as much, he was someone who liked rules, after all.

Even if he agreed with them, he thinks about the context of propriety. But he knows the soul of Gojo’s argument. He agrees with that. Gojo’s voice softened on the other line.

“Don’t you ever want to keep busy too? I mean, especially when your wife’s at her job? You’re both still in the thick of it, in your own ways. Being a house husband doesn’t always satisfy the itch. Before you rebuttal, you know I’m not lying. ”

Nanami sighed. Gojo’s words struck a nerve. He’s not wrong. Genmei–san also works still, helping out at temples when she has the time. Most of the time, if they weren’t on holiday, it would be Gojo waiting at home and taking care of their children. For a moment, Nanami sat down to think about it properly. 

You were deeply invested in your work as a novelist. You adore it, you truly do. But often, it’s hard for you to deal with. You were just as much an independent person in your own right and that was your own mission, your own purpose.

He admired you for that, but there were times when he found himself wondering about his place. He adores taking care of you, he adores being by your side all the time. He adores being your house–husband. 

But he often questions, besides that, away from the frontline, away from Jujutsu, what was his purpose now? Was he truly content to let the world of sorcery continue without him, even if it meant leaving those like Yuji to struggle without guidance? Or the kids? What can he do for them? What can he do now?

“Fine, Gojo.” Nanami finally muttered. “I’ll look into it. Just… don’t get used to this.” He could practically hear Gojo’s grin over the line, a smug sort of satisfaction that Nanami knew all too well.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gojo replied smoothly in response. “But I’ll admit, it’s good to have you back, even if just for a little while.”

And so, he tried to muster the courage to tell you about what he had agreed to. Dinner was a warm, familiar ritual together. And by the beachside in Kuantan, everything about it was a wonder to behold.

The sounds of clinking plates and gentle conversation filled the room, and the two of you settled into the ease of being home together, savoring the evening without the rush of tomorrow hanging over you. 

You were halfway through telling him about something small that had happened during your day at the market when he cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his usual, deliberate movements. His fingers, wrapped around his glass, seemed to tighten slightly. You looked at him a little bit confused. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, my love.” he began, meeting your gaze with a calm determination. "I’ve decided… to return to Tokyo." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he continued. "Jujutsu High needs someone to look after the first years. With Gojo retired, things are… in flux."

You blinked, feeling a jolt of surprise, but before you could fully react, he was already explaining, his tone quickening just a touch, as if he’d anticipated your questions. It was rare for your husband to be this way, to ramble about and have his bright brown eyes shake as he looked at you with a shaken uncertainty. But you know when he becomes this way, it’s because of things he cares about.

“It’s not active service, don’t worry about that, my love.” he assured, almost hurriedly, his hand drifting toward yours in an unspoken promise. “I’m not heading back into the field. It’s only to mentor the kids, give them someone they can rely on. They deserve that, especially now.”

You saw his resolve deepen as he spoke of them, the younger students who’d become like family over the years. His voice softened, and you could tell this wasn’t just about filling Gojo’s shoes. 

"I can’t abandon Yuji, he’s already without someone. I can’t really do much more damage by leaving him without someone." he said with quiet conviction, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you understood. 

“Kento—”

"I know how much he’s been through, and… I don’t want him facing it alone. Nobara, too—she’s so headstrong. She’ll need someone she can turn to, someone to help her channel all that fire. And Gojo’s bound to ask for updates on Fushiguro all the time. You know how he is with him. With them. I just….I just don’t want them to feel so alone about this at all. Usami is gaining some foothold and the conservatives are just….its complicated.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened, watching the familiar strength in his face, the quiet protector in him springing back to life. Passion was beautiful in your husband. Seeing even more alive with such caring passion makes you happy.

His gaze held yours, steady and honest, a reassurance that his heart was set on this, that he wasn’t leaving you behind but rather doing what he felt was right, the only thing that made sense.

You let the warmth you felt for him reflect in your smile, reaching for his hand as it rested between you. “Of course, Kento.” you replied softly, squeezing his fingers with encouragement. “They couldn’t have anyone better.”

A soft exhale escaped him, the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back. Relief and gratitude flickered across his face, the subtle shift of a man who didn’t often ask for things but knew he’d been understood completely. There was no need for grand gestures or lengthy explanations between the two of you; your silent agreement spoke volumes.

The conversation turned to lighter things, back to the warmth of dinner. But every so often, you caught his expression softening, a look of contentment and resolve, knowing he was about to embark on something meaningful, not just for him, but for those who needed him.

But of course, that also came with cons.

The move to Tokyo was a calm one.

But it was also a disastrous one, in his mind.

You were both too busy to spend time together.

The shift was subtle at first. Kento began to spend more and more hours at Jujutsu High, guiding the first years, sharing his experience, and quietly observing their progress. He’d come home later than usual, sometimes with papers under his arm and a faint weariness in his expression that he tried to mask with a smile. 

Meanwhile, you were pouring yourself into your new book, the words and ideas flowing freely under the careful guidance of your new editor. It was an exciting time, both for your work and for him. There was a renaissance in your paths to life blossoming in your efforts. But there was a toll, a quiet distance neither of you fully acknowledged.

One evening, you noticed the weight in his gaze as he joined you at the table. He seemed quieter, his usual calm presence tinged with something else; something like sadness. You set down your work, reaching across to hold his hand, catching the faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“Things have been so busy lately, my love.” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reluctant to admit it aloud. “I miss being able to spend more time with you.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I miss it too, Kento.” you replied, meeting his gaze with reassurance. “But you know how this is… the busy season. Soon, I’ll be back to post-writing mode, and we’ll have more time to do things together. This won’t last forever.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. “You’re right. It’s just… different.” There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it was short-lived.

As the weeks went on, your new editor’s involvement became more intense, often stretching into late-night calls or spontaneous meetings that kept you occupied well beyond the hours you’d once spent with Kento.

He’d catch you on the phone, your voice animated in a way that was hard to miss, even as he stood in the doorway waiting for a chance to say goodnight. It was hard to deal with, day by day.

But he said nothing, keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind the same mask of calm he’d worn so well for years. But you could sense it, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer.

It was as if he was hoping you’d glance up, catch his eye, and read the unspoken questions there. In the quiet moments, he’d watch you, a silent longing in his gaze, feeling the bittersweet ache of being close but somehow… not close enough.

It was an unspoken tension, a soft thread pulled too tight between the two of you. And though he never voiced it, you began to sense how much he missed you—not just physically, but in all the little moments you once shared, now slipping through his fingers.

After all, you guys were all you truly had in all these times. He would always crave everything about you. About loving you, about being close to you. Just you. He missed you.

Nanam Kento was sure that he hadi tried to be patient. He reminded himself, over and over, that this was temporary, just a busy period that would eventually pass. He knew how much this book meant to you and understood how important it was to have an editor who could match your energy and vision. 

But despite all his quiet resolve, he couldn’t ignore the pang of envy that crept in every time he saw you light up, laughing or discussing something animatedly over the phone.

The way you and your editor connected; it was undeniable. The easy flow between you two, the synergy that seemed to bridge ideas without any need for words, stirred something unsettled in him.

He would come home from a long day at Jujutsu high, weary but hopeful to catch up with you. Instead, he’d often find you mid-call, your voice carrying hints of excitement he hadn’t heard in a while. You’d wave him a quick greeting, mouthing that you’d be off soon, but “soon” stretched, and his footsteps grew slower on his way to your side.

It wasn’t that he doubted you or the love between you two. He trusted you deeply. But the way you seemed to come alive with this editor… it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He knew you and this person worked well together, that they understood your work and helped bring out your best ideas. 

He understood it logically, but logic did little to quell the feeling of being left on the sidelines. After all, it was a feeling he recognized too well—the familiar ache of watching from a distance, of caring deeply and yet holding his tongue.

Some nights, he’d sit across from you at dinner, glancing up occasionally, only to see you distracted, your mind clearly still on your work. Or you’d mention a new idea your editor had suggested, a change you hadn’t considered but were now eager to explore.

And though he nodded, offering his encouragement, he couldn’t shake the thought: When was the last time I could make her smile like that?

As the weeks went by, he felt it more keenly, this quiet envy of the time you spent together. It wasn’t that he begrudged you for the partnership, but he couldn’t help wishing that he could have more of that side of you for himself; the side that was vibrant and full of life, that spark of curiosity and joy he’d always adored.

Nanami Kento wasn’t one to give voice to his insecurities easily, and he knew how silly he might sound, envious over something so innocent. He was a secured man, in all the ways he knew he was. He knew that too well. Yet as much as he told himself it was foolish, the feeling lingered.

So he held back, watching you in those moments with a quiet ache, determined to keep his envy hidden. He’d stay later at the school, throw himself into lesson planning, sometimes even offer to cover additional duties, as though it might distract him. But each time he came home, seeing you lost in conversation or laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for now, a part of you belonged to someone else.

He told himself it was just work. You had deadlines; he understood that. But there was something else. Whenever your phone pinged with a message, you’d check it quickly, smile to yourself, then type out a reply, sometimes with a small laugh or a shake of your head. And every time, he’d feel a sharp pang of something foreign to him: jealousy.

Kento tried to reason with himself. You were his wife, and he trusted you implicitly. You had built a life together, one based on love, understanding, and mutual respect. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest whenever he saw you so absorbed in those messages or whenever he saw that spark of excitement in your eyes when you talked about the feedback your editor gave you.

He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. When he saw you typing away late into the evening, smiling at the screen, a quiet worry settled in the back of his mind. What was this editor like? Why did their input seem to matter so much to you? And why did Kento, who usually approached everything in life with composure, find himself so deeply unsettled?

Tonight, though, he’d had enough. He stood in the doorway to your office, watching you as you leaned over your laptop, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fully immersed in your work.

You looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, but that same nagging feeling of jealousy coiled tighter in his chest. And before he could stop himself, something in him just snapped.

“So, my love.” he said, his voice calm yet edged with tension. “Another late night, huh?”

“Yeah, it would seem so!” You retort, noticing him. “You’ve just come home?”

“Just a while ago.” He says to you, watching you turn your head back to your computer. You were typing even faster. He was sure you were trying to finish it, now that he was home.

You looked up once again, a soft smile lighting up your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You came in as sly as a little cat!” You stretched, setting aside your laptop and glancing at him warmly. “I was just going over some notes. The editor had a few thoughts on the latest chapter.”

”Did he have any suggestions for this part?" he asked, casually trying to keep his tone even as he nodded toward your screen.

You looked up, clearly surprised. "Who, my editor?"

"Yeah, my love." he said, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he leaned against the doorframe. "It just seems like he's been really… involved in your work lately."

You tilted your head, noticing the unusual tension in his voice, the way his words held a heaviness that wasn’t like him. “Well, that’s what they’re paid to do, you know?” you replied gently, hoping to keep things light, maybe coax a smile out of him. 

But his expression didn’t shift. You could tell almost immediately. Instead, his eyes held a quiet, guarded intensity that stopped you in your tracks. Realizing this was more than a casual remark, you closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.

“Kento… Is something wrong?” you asked, voice soft, searching his face for a sign of what was going on inside him.

He crossed his arms, hesitating. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to brush it off, to go back to his usual collected demeanor, but he stopped. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that caught you off guard. 

“I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s probably nothing.” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But… I don’t like seeing you so wrapped up in this person’s feedback. You’ve been smiling at your phone more than you do at me lately, and I’m… not exactly used to feeling like this.”

The vulnerability in his words, the admission from someone usually so calm and composed, made your heart soften instantly. You reached out, covering his hand with yours, feeling the tension there, the way his fingers reflexively squeezed back. 

“Kento, baby.” you said, voice warm. “You don’t have to feel that way. No editor or anyone else could ever mean as much to me as you do. None of them are you. There’s only one of you, you know?”

He relaxed just a little, his shoulders easing as he let your words sink in. But he didn’t let go of that guarded look, the one that still held a hint of uncertainty. “Then why does it feel like I’m… competing for your attention?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it, with a vulnerability that you knew he rarely revealed, struck you deeply.

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I didn’t realize how it looked.” you admitted, your thumb brushing lightly along his hand. “It’s just… I got excited about the project, and the new feedback’s been inspiring. But…I’m so sorry for not noticing or making you feel that way, baby.” 

You reached out, tracing a gentle hand down his arm, feeling the tension start to melt away as you looked into his eyes. “None of that compares to what I have with you. I hope you know that.  You’re the one I come home to, Kento. You’re the one who matters most. I love you. Only you.”

He seemed to exhale, his expression softening. You could see the quiet relief in his eyes, the way the tension finally started to lift, and it made you want to close whatever lingering distance was left between you. And then, his voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence.

“Tell me, my love.” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “Tell me that you want me. Just… say it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, that rare openness he was offering, made your heart ache in the best way. You don’t think you had ever felt like this before Kento. But every day since then, your heart has created more motions you could never understand. And you know, you just knew – it was because you loved him more than anything in life. 

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again. 

Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and before either of you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. The warmth you had come to hold onto in this life. 

You sank into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. There was a familiar comfort there, a quiet strength in his embrace, that had always felt like home.

For a few moments, you both stayed that way, close and quiet, as if the world outside had faded and left only the two of you. He lifted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead/

Kento murmured into your hair, his voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take a break from work. I’ll do it too. We’ll spend time together. Just us. No one else.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Of course, my baby. I can postpone everything else. If it’s you, everything else can wait. My husband being happy is more important to me!” you whispered.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, and he held you a little tighter, his own smile finally breaking through, his usual calm confidence restored. For Kento, there was no greater feeling than knowing you were his and that you were here, sharing this quiet, peaceful moment with him.

As he held you close, he felt a deep contentment, one he rarely allowed himself to savor. The jealousy that had once gripped him faded entirely, replaced by a quiet certainty. Of course there should be. Why wouldn't there be?

The certainty that your love, your life together, was the one thing in the world he could rely on. That he was sure. You love him, after all. And as he closed his eyes, resting his chin atop your head, he silently thanked the universe for you, for this love that was more real, more enduring, than any fleeting worry or passing jealousy.

This, he thought to himself, was where he belonged. 

Right here, in this moment, in your arms.

Nowhere else can compare to this.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AND HAVE A PICNIC. The night before you had agreed that it would be nice to enjoy the Tokyo sun, and have a picnic at the park. You talked about a cat cafe nearby too. He talked about how the yakisoba dish was introduced at his favorite restaurant. There were new spots popping out in Tokyo for you both to check out.

That’s what you agreed on. Today was supposed to be simple, a peaceful day just to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment you woke up and felt his gaze linger a bit longer.

Slowly, smoothly, you could feel his hand finding the curve of your waist, you knew that quiet was about to turn into something much more intense. You knew your husband too well. When he’s hungry — he remains hungry.

He pulled you close, his grip both gentle and possessive as his eyes darkened. “Mine, only mine.” he murmured, the word almost a growl, his fingers tracing your skin like he wanted to memorize every part of you. 

The world around you melted away as he took his time, every kiss and touch filled with a need that made your heart race. You let him, giving himself over as he murmured softly against your skin, “My pretty wife… just for me.”

You could feel him stretching you out so perfectly with his fingers, causing you to moan loudly. Your husband was good, too good at everything he does. But when it comes to you, he was beyond excellent. Your eyes felt hazy as he looked at you with that predatory stare. You held him even closer, your moan getting louder. 

Your head turns awry with the high as you continue to ride his fingers as he kisses your neck, you're stuck against the wall occupied by him. No one, not even your previous lovers, those green boy boyfriends were able to make you feel this good.

No one could make you feel this way. Only him. Only your husband, your Kento. And every single time, he knew it. Even with his jealousy, he knew it. You were always going to fold when it’s him. Only him. 

“K–Kento.” you moan out, your voice breathless as you rock against his fingers, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. “You’re… you’re… oh—”

His eyes darken with desire, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. “That’s it, my love.” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth.

He peppered soft kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fire inside you that burned brighter with every passing second. His fingers pushed deeper, faster, and you felt so incredibly full, the exquisite stretch making your head spin.

“Come. Come for me.” he urged, his words wrapping around you like a spell, both a command and an invitation. The way he held you against the wall, the heat radiating from his body, only heightened the electric connection between you.

Every kiss he placed on your skin felt like a promise, an affirmation of the bond you shared. No one else had ever made you feel this way; so cherished and desired. With him, you were always ready to surrender completely, to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that built within you. Nothing else can compare with what you feel for your husband. Nothing. 

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. He was so good at remembering where to touch you next. After being together for this long, Kento knew your body even better than you. He knows how to make you cry, how to make you moan. He knows everything.

“Kento.” you gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and longing, and as his fingers curled just right, that coil finally snapped. Your body shuddered, a wave of bliss crashing over you, leaving you breathless as you surrendered to the moment, lost in the magic of him.

You looked up at him, and his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that sent a rush of warmth through you. Without a word, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that reignited the fire within. 

His movements were slow at first, but as he pushed his fingers one by one, even deeper, your moans escaped you uncontrollably, pulling him closer as you urged him on, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of him.

Somehow, you had been able to accommodate every tight, muscular finger in his hand. And you knew it felt good. He knew it felt good. Because he knew just what to do. No one else would. Only Kento would.

He responded with a low, pleased growl, the sound reverberating through his chest as his free hand tightened around your hip, holding you possessively against him.

There was an undeniable power in the way he claimed you, every inch of his touch a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt cherished and owned, completely his in this intimate moment.

Each thrust of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. Your body responded eagerly, arching into him as you surrendered fully to the sensations, every moan escaping your lips urging him on.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only you, him, and the electric energy that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a rhythm that felt both primal and tender.

As the intensity of the moment deepened, you could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible connection that anchored you both in a world of your own. His lips traveled down to your neck, trailing kisses that ignited your skin, leaving behind a trail of fire. You could feel the way he held you, his grip firm yet gentle, and it made you crave more, the need building inside you like a rising tide.

“Just like that, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through you, adding to the layers of pleasure that enveloped you.

He continued to move his fingers with a deliberate slowness, coaxing every last ounce of ecstasy from your body. Each time he pushed deeper, you gasped, the sensations pulling you closer to the edge once again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could merge your bodies into one. Drool started to form from your lips as he thrusted even deeper, pleasure repetitive in your lips to his ears. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed making a mess of you way too much. 

“K–kento. Oh my….g—oddddd…..” you breathed, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. You needed him, all of him, and you wanted to feel that connection intensify. He looked into your eyes, and in that moment, you saw the depth of his love mirrored in his gaze, a promise that went beyond the physical.

He quickened his pace slightly, and you felt every pulse of his fingers inside you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You could sense the hunger in him, a deep-seated need to feel you unravel beneath him.

“You’re perfect, aren't you?” he said, the words reverberating through you as you lost yourself in the moment. His possessiveness only heightened your arousal, each stroke of his fingers an affirmation that you belonged to him, and he to you.

With every thrust, every kiss, you felt the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of passion. Your bodies moved together as if they were made to fit, every touch syncing perfectly. You surrendered completely, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pulling you under and lifting you higher.

“Come for me again, my love.” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with desire. You could feel the pressure building once more, and with a desperate need, you clung to him, riding the waves of sensation that coursed through you. 

The world outside faded entirely as you focused on the way he made you feel—alive, cherished, and utterly consumed by the moment. And as you finally tipped over the edge into bliss, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, lost in your shared passion.

As the world outside faded into a distant hum, you and Kento found yourselves enveloped in an intimate cocoon, where it was just the two of you. His gaze held yours, deep and searching, as if he were reading the unspoken words that danced between you. The air was thick with anticipation, and your heart raced in sync with the pulse of the moment.

With a gentle touch, he caressed your cheek, his fingers trailing down to your neck, igniting sparks of warmth beneath his fingertips. The softness of his touch contrasted with the burning desire that simmered between you, creating a perfect tension that left you breathless. You leaned into him, craving the connection that felt both familiar and exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with warmth, laced with a hint of playful teasing that made your stomach flutter. You nodded, feeling a rush of trust and excitement wash over you. You knew he would take care of you, just as he always did.

As he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. When he entered you, it was as if time stood still. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made you gasp softly. You could feel every inch of him, filling you completely, as he took his time, letting you adjust to the fullness.

Kento's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you felt utterly cherished. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were savoring the connection between your bodies and the bond you shared. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, and you could feel the sincerity in his words.

Those simple words sent a wave of warmth through you, making you feel both desired and loved. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer, as if you could merge your souls together.

He held you firmly, as though afraid to let go, fingers pressing into your skin with a hunger that left no doubt of his intentions. His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with an intensity that was both grounding and electric, each touch sparking a heat that made you shiver.

The way he held you was raw and consuming, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling of you beneath his hands, every curve, every softness. He knew everything like the back of his hand/

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin, each kiss he placed making you arch closer, melting into the strength of his hold. The roughness of his grip, his possessive energy, pulled you deeper.

It was like he was marking you as his, his touch heavy with a passion that left you breathless. He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give, everything he wanted to take.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, his warmth surrounding you, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. Every inch of you felt alive under his touch, every nerve alight with a need that only he could satisfy.

His hands continued to explore, leaving trails of warmth, his touch demanding yet tender, as if reassuring you that he was there, and you were his.

The heat between you intensified, his hands roaming slowly, leaving a trail of tingling warmth wherever they went. You trembled, feeling the power behind every touch, every possessive whisper.

You could feel him drinking in the sight of you, holding you close as if he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t rushed; it was filled with a focused, possessive affection that only made you crave him more.

Time blurred as his movements became a mix of gentleness and intensity. His hands slid lower, holding you firmly, possessively, as he whispered your name.

His words washed over you, filled with longing and satisfaction as he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” Each soft murmur made your breath catch, his voice rough with devotion.

Your husband had always had a way of grounding you, pulling you back to him in the moments you needed it most. He held you with a quiet strength, his touches both comforting and electric, each caress more deliberate than the last.

When the busy schedules and late nights began to take their toll, you’d find yourself in his arms, feeling the tension melt away as he made you his world.

He was possessive in the gentlest way, his lips tracing along your skin, his voice murmuring low, tender words that anchored you to the present.

"Mine, mine." he'd say, over and over, his voice a husky whisper as he pressed deeper, slow and unhurried, savoring each moment. "My beautiful wife, my one and only."

You let yourself unravel under his touch, feeling each surge of pleasure as he pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours in heated kisses, his hands firm as they held you against him. The world outside faded, and there was only him—each movement, each shudder of pleasure woven with his love and need for you.

And as your body trembled, giving in to the pleasure he offered, he’d whisper words that sent warmth spiraling through you: His only. His good girl. His good little wife.

With every pulse and every breath, he made you his, claiming you in the way only he could, and you felt yourself give in, letting him take what he needed, knowing that he was yours just as deeply.

In these moments, he was entirely yours, just as you were his, both of you wrapped up in a world where only the two of you existed. And as he held you close, that familiar need he had for you was clear in his eyes, you could feel the depth of his love; the way he wanted you, needed you—all pouring out with each possessive word and touch.

Every thrust was slow and measured, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose, as if Kento were painting a masterpiece with your bodies.

He took his time, carefully crafting a rhythm that drew you both closer to the edge of ecstasy, like the steady buildup of a powerful wave ready to crash upon the shore. Each moment felt like an eternity, stretched and molded by his touch, igniting every nerve ending with heat and longing.

Kento relished in the way you responded to him, the way your body quivered beneath him, your breaths coming in soft gasps that filled the space between you.

He liked making you wait, savoring the way your eyes widened in need and your body writhed, pleading for more. The way you mewled over and over again, lost in the depths of desire, was music to his ears, a siren call that drove him further into the depths of his own hunger for you.

“Please, Kento. More. More—” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, the need pooling in the pit of your stomach. Each word was a plea, a yearning that echoed in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“P–please….pleaseeeee…..”

A teasing smile played on his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your neck. He bit gently into your flesh, a sweet sting that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to moan, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. 

“Enjoy it, my love. Enjoy the slow burn.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, wrapping around you like a silken ribbon. “Let’s have fun, hm?”

His words were a command and a caress, urging you to embrace the intensity of the moment. The way he spoke your name, the way he held you, felt like a tether pulling you deeper into the shared experience. You were both caught in a delicate dance, a balance of power and surrender, where every pause and every gentle caress built anticipation.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined, lost in the growing tension between your bodies. Kento was in control, but you loved it. You loved the way he took his time, how each thrust felt like an exploration, a journey into the very essence of what it meant to be together.

He would withdraw slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, before plunging back into you with a slow, deliberate push that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from the core of your being.

Each pulse of his body against yours was a reminder of his possession, of the bond you shared that was both beautiful and intoxicating. The slow burn he created enveloped you, igniting your senses and drawing you closer to the precipice of your desires. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent wave that throbbed and twisted, desperate for release.

“Just like that, my love.” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Let it build. Let it consume you.”

You let his words command you, letting them wash over you as you melted into the sensations. Every tear that fell was a blessing of pleasure and the pain mingling together, a sweet agony that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

You could feel your heart racing, your breaths quickening, as you approached that sweet, familiar edge, caught between the bliss of the moment and the urgency of your need.

With every deep stroke, you felt a delicious tension building within you, a tightness that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each time he filled you completely, it ignited a spark of pleasure that resonated deep in your core, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Your husband was a great lover. Perhaps the best there ever was. 

You surrendered to him fully, giving yourself over to the sensations that enveloped you. The outside world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, made every moment feel precious. 

You can only focus on him. Only him. He was what mattered. The way his eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and desire.

You could write as many beautiful works as you could ever want. But perhaps the most beautiful creation in your life was him. Loving Nanami Kento was your most beautiful creation.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel. It was a combination of love and raw passion, an electric current that flowed between you, binding you together in a way that felt profoundly intimate.

Every caress of his hands, every whispered word, heightened your awareness of him, igniting your senses and making you acutely aware of the depth of your connection.

You could feel his warmth enveloping you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe yet desired. The way he moved, the way he took his time to explore every inch of you, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection and longing.

With each thrust, you could feel your bodies communicating in a language all your own, a silent exchange that deepened the bond between you.

As you both lost yourselves in each other, the outside world faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a universe of your own making.

The air around you thickened with anticipation, and every touch felt electric, as if the very essence of your connection pulsed between you. As if you truly belonged together.

You could sense the tension coiling tighter, each movement a languid dance that drew you deeper into an exquisite rhythm, a beautiful synergy that melded your souls together and ignited a fire within you that felt utterly intoxicating.

“Kento, I’m coming. I’m so close.” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as desire swirled through your veins.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, his lips soft yet insistent, igniting a cascade of shivers that traveled down your spine. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” he urged, his voice low and rich with promise, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

That was when he shifted, his movements quickening, a sudden urgency that sent your heart racing. The delicious friction intensified, and with each thrust, the world outside vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in a haze of passion. 

Every kiss, every whisper, every pulse of his body against yours propelled you closer to that blissful edge, where pleasure and surrender intertwined, drawing you both into a beautiful climax that promised to sweep you away entirely.

As Kento quickened his pace, the urgency of his movements sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a peak that felt both thrilling and inevitable.

The air around you crackled with electricity, every sensation heightened as he pressed deeper, claiming you in a way that made your heart race and your body ache for more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, each thrust driving you further into a euphoric haze.

“My love, I’m so close.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m….I’m gonna come.”

You could see the raw need in his gaze, the way he was completely lost in the moment, just as you were. It was intoxicating to know that you had this effect on him, that you could pull him into this blissful space where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

“I want you, baby.” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency as you felt that familiar coil tightening within you. “I need you.”

“D’ you want me inside, hm? Where do you want me?”

You moan, thinking about how hot it was. How hotter it would be to have him inside of you. “I-inside me. Please. Please. Make me full.”

“Y’d like that? You want me to make you full of me, my love?”

“Yes, yes, o–oh, yes—”

With a low growl, Kento shifted his focus, pushing into you with a deep, purposeful thrust that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. The world outside was a distant memory, all that existed was the heat building between you, a fire that consumed you both whole.

His movements were rhythmic yet fervent, each push coaxing you closer to the edge, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. It felt so good. It felt way too good and you wanted it to last forever.

“Let go, my love.” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers coursing through your body. “I’m right there with you.”

And then, with a final, deep thrust, you felt him come inside you, warmth flooding you as he released with a low groan, his body pulsing against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—a rush of heat that spread through you, mingling with your own climax as pleasure washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling benea

th him.

You held on closer to him, taking in a new dawn’s breath.

You were so in love with this man, more than you know. 

And he was the same — he couldn’t get enough of loving you.

“You know, if I had known jealousy would make you like this…” you finally say, your voice still laced with breathlessness as you regain your composure.

The warmth of the moment lingers around you like a soft blanket, and you can feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Kento’s kisses trail along your glistening skin, each gentle press of his lips a sweet reminder of the connection you’ve just shared.

His lips are soft against you, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and the scent of your mingled skin fills the air with a heady sweetness that is all-consuming.

“I would get you jealous often, baby.” you tease, a playful smile curving your lips as you look down at him.

Kento pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mixture of amusement and mock seriousness. “Is that so?” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a delightful shiver through you. 

The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of possessiveness and affection that makes your heart flutter.You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound echoing around you in the intimate space you’ve created together.

“Absolutely. You should see how cute you get when you’re all riled up, baby.” you say, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Fiesty and all.”

His lips curve into a smirk, and he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to stay jealous for long, my love.” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “But if it means I get to have you like this…” 

His voice trails off, and he plants a series of soft kisses down your neck, each one sending delightful tingles racing across your skin. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to relish the sensations he stirs within you. 

“You’re incorrigible sometimes, Kento.” you whisper, feeling the weight of his affection enveloping you. The playful banter only adds to the intimacy, making it all the more special, as if you were sharing a secret joke that only the two of you understood.

“Only for you, my love.” he replies, his voice sincere as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “But really, seeing you light up like that—it’s worth it. Just know I’ll always come back to claim what’s mine.”

epilogue 

As the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room, you and Kento found yourselves nestled comfortably together. You hadn’t left the bed much since this morning.

And your husband was incredibly happy about that. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Everything about the room smelt like sex and sweat, that was to be expected. Your husband’s insatiable when he gets into it. 

But the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the air filled with the kind of warmth that comes from deep affection. Everything about the aftermath was the passion of lovers who will always be in love.

And you couldn't help but admit that you felt blessed with that. This passion between you and Kento, it will never die. For bitter, for worse, for good and better — you will always have this. You will always be together like this.

After a playful exchange repeating over and over again, you both took breaks in between. For a while, you both watched some television. Kento seems to enjoy Love Island, so he wants to watch the whole series with you now. A little while later, the two of you talked a little bit about the little things you’ve seen and done lately.

Soon enough, you were sure you were hungry. Kento immediately kissed you and went to the kitchen, coming back with some bowls of favorite snacks and some refreshing drinks, on ice.

But of course, he urged you to drink the water most. With all the screaming he’s made you do, he’s a little bit more worried about your voice, 

You both conversed about silly things now, laughing at how Yuji seems to be as silly as ever before. About how Gakuganji seems to continue to be annoyed by Gojo Satoru’s phone calls.

But then he talked about Gojo Satoru expecting another child on the way, albeit accidental. In that moment, you realized it was that moment. So, you took a moment to shift the conversation to that.

“You know, baby…..” you began, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know you’re still busy, I’ve been thinking maybe….just maybe…”

“You know surprises aren’t needed.” He laughs, lowering his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small smile, leaning against his chest. “Don’t you think it’s time we consider having kids soon. I’m really happy to make that happen soon.”

Kento turned to you, his brow raising in playful skepticism, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? You’re ready to dive into the chaos of parenting, my love? You know it’s a lot of work, right?” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, filling the space between you.

You couldn’t help but grin back, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “Of course! But I think it would be so worth it. Just imagine our little ones running around, making messes and keeping us on our toes.”

He smiles at you fondly. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.” You grinned at him. “I can also see you being the doting dad, teaching them all about fighting and how to protect themselves. Or you know, just making some bread from home! I do miss authentic rye bread from an expert in Danish baked goods. Imagine how our kids will feel when they eat it too!”

He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed in the room and made you feel light with joy. “You think so? I suppose you’re right, my love. I can already picture myself getting wrapped around their little fingers. They’d have me wrapped around their hearts in no time.” 

The sincerity in his tone made your heart swell with happiness.

Everything about your husband makes you feel happy everyday.

If life were to teach what happiness looks like, it would be him.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “And they’d have your strength and my charm. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be?”

Kento’s expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You know, I’ve always wanted that. A family with you. You make everything better.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, igniting a sense of hope and love within you.

“So, you’re on board with the idea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely, my love.” he replied, that playful smirk returning to his face. “But first, I think we need to indulge in another round of this.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and captured your lips in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, losing yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer.

It was intoxicating, filled with a mix of passion and love that made your heart race. Everything about Kento was just a pool you wanna drown in. Everything about him was worth drowning in. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other, a perfect blend of laughter, warmth, and desire.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth, Kento looked at you with that glint of mischief in his eyes that you adored.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details later, my love.” he said, grinning widely. “But for now, I think we have some important work to do to ensure that happens.”

With that, he pulled you back into another passionate kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you savored the moment. You felt the electric connection between you, the promise of a beautiful future hanging in the air, ripe with possibilities.

As you both continued to kiss, the playful banter resumed, filled with sweet nothings and playful teasing about the “practice” needed for the future family you envisioned. After all, practice makes perfect.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Blurred Lines

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: You and Jenna, best friends and actresses, are cast as lovers for the first time, tasked with bringing a romantic chemistry to the screen. But as scenes unfold, the lines between acting and reality begin to blur.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: This was actually the first Jenna story I wrote!

————

What are you thinking so hard about? Jenna asks plopping down in the director's chair next to you.

After being best friends for years, you and Jenna have finally gotten the opportunity to work alongside each other on your latest film Lovestruck, a romance film where you two are playing the lead couple.

You. You wanted to say, but you were 8 years too deep in the friendzone to truly say what was on your mind. "Just the next scene," you smile at her tiredly.

Her eyes light up, "I've been looking forward to this scene for so long!  God just look at that view Y/n!  I'm so jealous of Lalya," she sighs, referencing the character she's playing in the film. "Just who wouldn't love to be confessed to here," your co-star finishes looking over at you with sparkles in her eyes.

When your manager gave you the script for this project, you could only laugh at how much the story paralleled your situation with Jenna.  You were playing Quinn, a girl who has been in love with her friend for years, but couldn't do anything about it.  Eventually the mixed signals and watching the one she loves be with others got too much, and Quinn angrily confesses by the lakefront during a sunset; the view Jenna was fawning over just a minute ago.

You could only wish that the aftermath of any potential confession of yours could resemble the one in this film. Layla ends up reciprocating Quinn's feelings and it's a happy ending.

Unfortunately the universe isn't as perfect as an angsty teen romance, and is rather a sick minded individual who gets a kick out of meddling with people's lives. For years you and Jenna have auditioned for the same projects to play friends, enemies, even sister's but why is it that the one project both of you manage to land is this one?

"Y/n/n!"

Startled, you look over at the girl who's been trying to get your attention for all this time while you zoned out. "Y-yeah sorry. You're right. It would be a dream to be confessed to here."

She hums and stands up before placing a hand on your shoulder looking intently into your eyes, "I'll see you on set after the break, hope you bring your A game Y/l/n," she winks with a smile before walking off.

Jenna walks over to Andrew another actor working the film and immediately starts laughing and touching his arm in conversation.  You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but you also couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene that always happened to unfold in front of you.

It hurts you beyond belief watching your best friend interact flirtatiously with other people. Having to hear about rumoured boyfriends and especially having her not deny them. The mixed signals you got from the girl wasn't any help either, like what was that hand on the shoulder just now? The wink?!

You walk away trying your very best to calm yourself down before your big scene. Jenna frowned as she watched you walk away and towards your personal trailer.

————

The director calls everyone to set and has prepared to shoot the big confession scene. The crew helps you and Jenna find your places and fixes up any imperfections in your clothing. As you stand before your co-star you're hit with a strong wave of emotions. The 20 minutes you spent in the trailer wasn't much help, and now as you watch Jenna who is looking at you curiously, you make a realization.

You may never confess to Jenna. How could you? This friendship was the greatest you've ever had and you were aware of the fact that friendships like this one, don't come easy. It would be insanely stupid of you to confess your love and single-handedly lose a gem like Jenna completely. The more you thought about it, the interactions between Andrew, the rumours with Percy, and countless other boys, the more helpless you felt. There was no way she could feel the same.

"You okay?" the gentle voice you've come to love speaks.

You're silent.  She looks at you with her big doe eyes that you've come to love, but at this very moment you hate so much.  The concern in her eyes is pushing you off the edge.  You hated it.  You hated how her caring nature has only gotten you falling tenfolds harder. Why does she have to be good to me, why does she torture me like this you ask yourself.

"Y/n/n."

You look away, refusing to look into her eyes, scared of the emotions you'll find in them, scared of finding out how much more you could fall in love with her in this moment, so you settle on the view of the sunset.

The director begins a 10 second countdown to cue in the start of the scene and you're still looking at the sunset pondering. This may be the only time that you'll ever speak the words of a confession to Jenna. Yes, to her it'll be you performing the script, Quinn speaking these words, but she doesn't have to know that you will mean all the words you speak with every fibre of your being.

A light smile plays on your lips as you think about the performance you're about to give and how it should get you nominated for all the acting awards in existence. The lines of Quinn and Y/n have blurred, and you are playing no character other then yourself.

You won't be acting.

"Action!"

The scene begins and you start marching away from Jenna like the script told you to.

"Wait- Stop!" Jenna says frantically grabbing on to your arm.You roll your eyes, shrugging her off and continue walking.

"Why do you insist on hurting me?" She shouts, following the script.  You stop walking and pause.One beat. Two beat. Just like the script instructed. You turn around, glaring at her with more intensity than the script demands, "Me? Hurt you? That's rich coming from you."

Jenna hesitates, caught off guard by the seriousness in your voice, but quickly recovers, staying in character.

"Yes you asshole! I invite you to the lake house, and all you do is ignore me!"  Groaning into your hands, you speak your next line.  "Layla. You're joking right?"

"No Q, I'm not.  Do you even care about me?  It's my fucking birthday, and you're acting like I'm not even here, sulking in one of your moods and embarrassing me in front of my friends!"

"Then what am I?"

"What?"

You laugh, running your hands through your hair, struggling to keep your emotions in check.

"If those are your little fucking friends, then what am I to you?"

Jenna acted taken aback like she was supposed to, "My friend? My best friend? I don't know that's not the point! Wh-"

You cut her off, "But it is the point!"

You break the script.

You blink hard, letting the tears that were building up before the scene fall down your face.

Jenna had a look in her eyes that you've never seen before it was confusion and something else you couldn't pinpoint. Being the amazing actress that she is, she improvs her next line, so the scene can get back on track.

"Here you go again not wanting to address the real issue," she rolls her eyes.

You decide to stick to the script with tears streaming down your face. "I can't keep doing this anymore Layla," the words carrying the weight of years of hidden feelings. "Watching you with them, pretending I'm fine when I'm not. I can't just be your friend anymore."

Jenna's eyes widen, her character momentarily forgotten as she registers the raw emotion in your voice. "Quinn... what are you saying?"

You take a deep breath, letting it all out, the pain, the frustration, the love. You're about to do it and you hope that just for a second your performance will blur the lines for Jenna. "I'm saying that I'm in love with you, and I have been for a long time. And it kills me every time I see you with someone else, knowing I can't be the one to make you smile like that."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for her response, both in character and out of it. The director's voice seems far away as he doesn't call cut, letting the scene play out naturally. For a moment you start to think that Jenna has forgotten her line, she's supposed to say, "For how long?"

But she goes off script.

She takes a step forward so she's only a foot away from you and takes your trembling hands (that you didn't even realize were shaking) in her own, an attempt to calm you down.

Jenna, as Layla, steps closer, her own tears glistening in the fading light. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Quinn? Why did you let me go on thinking we were just friends?"

Your voice cracks as you respond, "Because I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of ruining what we have. But I can't keep pretending anymore."

Jenna reaches up, gently cupping your face with her hands, her touch warm and soft. "You idiot," she whispers, her voice trembling. "How could you not know? How could you think for even a second that I didn't feel the same way?"

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, and for a moment you forget that you're on set, that this is all supposed to be a performance. It feels too real, too raw.

"T-then what about everything I see? All those guys?" You say staying true to the script, but you couldn't hold your tongue and add, "The rumours? The interactions I always see?"

Jenna clearly seems taken aback by your addition to the script, and opens her mouth and closes it, at a loss for words.

You can't help yourself and continue, "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch you with other guys? To see you flirt with everyone else and feel like I'm just...invisible?"

Jenna's heart races as she realizes the depth of your feelings, the lines between the script and reality blurring completely.

Jenna continues, the rest of the scene now being pure improv. With tears in her eyes, "I wasn't trying to hurt you...Q. I wanted you to notice me. To see me the way I see you.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. Jenna's voice is trembling, her gaze locked on yours, and for the first time you realize she's not just playing a role. She's confessing, right here, in front of everyone.

"I've been in love with you for so long," you get out through tears, "But all I've ever seen is you with them... like I don't even exist."

The shorter girl steps closer, dropping the last remnants of her character. Her hands reach up to cup your face, her touch gentle and filled with unspoken emotion.

"I didn't know how to tell you, Quinn. I was scared, so I tried to make you jealous, provoke you into action, hoping you'd finally do something. I-I was hoping you'd see how much I care. How much I...love you.

Your breath catches, your heart pounds in your ears, and you break character completely not caring anymore, in a trembling voice you ask, "You really feel the same way?"

Jenna nods, tears spilling over as she smiles, a mixture of relief and vulnerability in her expression.

"Yes, Q. I've always felt this way. I was just too scared to admit it... but not anymore."

You blink, struggling to process what's happening. This wasn't in the script—none of this was. But it's real, and it's happening now.

You smile through the tears, "Then let's stop pretending, Jenna. No more games... I'm yours if you'll have me.

Jenna lets out a small, tearful laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. The cameras are still rolling despite your name drop, but none of that matters anymore. She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes shining with a love that's no longer hidden.

"I've always been yours. Always."

In that moment, you lean in, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that's filled with all the years of longing and love you've both kept hidden. When you finally pull away, you're both breathless, tears of happiness mingling with the raw emotion of the scene.

The director calls "Cut," but neither of you moves, still lost in each other's eyes. For a moment, the set is silent, the crew unsure if they've just witnessed the best acting of your careers or something far more real. But you both know the truth—and it's better than any script that could have been written.

[hvnyrt]

Get What You Ask For

JASON TODD X FEM READER

SUMMARY: You and Jason go for a joy ride on his bike, to which you get bold and he put you in your place

WARNINGS: Fem! Reader, Jason being mean, punishment, choking, fem!oral receiving, p in v sex, spanking, tied up, fingering, overstimulation, 18+, minors DO NOT INTERACT.

WC: 3.1K

You and Jason didn't go out much. Neither of you liked to be in the limelight, didn't like the camera flashes when you were with Jason.  Jason kept you close to him always. He made sure you felt loved when the two of you were together. He would cook for you, hold you, read to you, and sometimes even sing to you. But that was Jason.

Tonight was different, you were with Red Hood. Of course it was Jason underneath the helmet, but God, that helmet did things to the both of you. You had your arms wrapped around his chest, holding him tightly as the motorbike he steered sped through the city. This was his idea of a date, picking you up late from work after he was done patrolling, enjoying the breeze and lights of the city. The two of you had been riding for about twenty minutes, Jason wants to just enjoy your arms around him, ride his bike through his city, with his girl wrapped around him. You had different plans though.

You had been itching for some relief all day now. Rocking back and forth in your chair when you were in meetings, trying to get something. You finally had your lover in your arms, and you knew exactly what he could give you, and you knew exactly how to get it. 

You had your arms wrapped tightly around his chest, holding tightly as to make sure you didn't fall off. You slowly ran your hands down his chest, making sure to apply pressure as you did so. You leaned harder into him, pushing your chest into his back. You ran your hands down, running down to his rough pants, his thighs spread gloriously as he pressed on the gas pedal. You finally reached his thighs, running your hands inwards, closer to his zipper.

“Doll” He started, a low growl in his voice. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll wait.” You could tell by the tone of his voice, his lip was twitched, his teeth baring.

“What?” You replied sweetly, a small smile on your face. You pressed your hands further, applied pressure onto his length, feeling his size through his pants. “I'm not doing anything.”

Jason quickly grabbed your wrists, pulling them back up to his chest as he pinned them there, wrapping your arms around him again. He turned over just slightly, giving you a look over his shoulder. Even through the helmet, you could feel his glare. “Keep ‘em there.” He stated firmly, the rumble in his chest reverberating onto you.

You hummed, ignoring his words, and running your hands right back down to where they were. You began to palm him through his jeans, feeling his growing erection growing stronger. You let out a low whine, leaning further into him. “I've been craving you all day,” You said with a gloomy sigh, a pleading look underneath your helmet. 

“Then you’ll wait.” Jason said again, a firm conviction in his voice. He once again brought your wrists back to his chest, not letting them go this time. He pressed his foot on the pedal harder, the bike eliciting a low whistle as it boosted. You yelped as you leaned further into Jason, the wind of the Gotham night air blowing over the two of you.

After about five, long, tantalizing minutes, Jason pulled the bike into a low-lit area. He parked the bike, jumping off. Before you could even think about moving, Jason grabbed you upper arm, yanking you off the bike. You stumbled off, tripping over your feet behind him. He made sure to pause for you to catch yourself, even though he was being rough, he still cared about you.

He dragged you through the fire escape of his apartment, pushing you through the door once you arrived. You huffed as he dragged you to your shared bedroom. Pushing you down onto the bed once you arrived.

You groaned as he pushed you down, using your hands to push yourself up and move your now tangled hair out of your face. You sat up on your elbows, eyeing Jason as he paced around the bed, watching you like a predator stalking its prey. You stared at him back with the same conviction, your cheeks flushed as you felt the energy in the room shift to a lustful one. You felt your inner core throb with need as Jason eyed you, slowly taking off his helmet.

“You know.” He started slowly, his hair wild from being trapped in his helmet, “I expect you to listen when you're told to do something.” He taunted, dipping onto the bed with his knee, as he stalked closer to you.

You instinctively crawled back, holding yourself with your arms as you started back into hips deep green eyes, a look of lust and fear sprawled on your face. “ I just thought-” 

Jason cut you off with one large hand covering your neck. He applied pressure, choking you as he pushed you against the headboard. “‘You just thought what? That you were in control?” Jason mocked, tilting his head as he watched you struggle to breathe. He let go just a bit, allowing air to come through, yet still applying pressure.

You swallowed, catching your breath as you looked up at him. “I just needed you,” You whined.

Jason let out a low chuckle, letting go of your neck as he placed both hands around your head, blocking you in. He bent down, beginning to place sloppy wet kisses along your neck. You let out a low whine, as he sucked on your most sensitive spots, leaving bite marks and purple bruises. You brought your hands up, going to run them through his mess of black hair, before he caught both of your hands in one. “You lost the privilege to touch me a long time ago, doll.”

You whined loudly at that, pouting. All day all you had been wanting was to touch him, to feel him, and now he took that from you. “But I need you, Jay,” You plead.

Jason laughs, sitting up on his knees as he began to unbuckle his belt, as he was still fully dressed in his patrol gear. “Should've thought about that before you started touching all over me huh?’’ He taunted, taking his belt fully off. He grabbed your wrists again, to which you fought. You wriggled and whined against him, before he growled, and placed a hard slap on the side of your thigh, a warning. You immediately went limp, whines still leaving your lips. Jason laughed once again at your response, as he began to tie your wrists together and above your head with his belt.

“There’s my good girl,” Jason smiled as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, kissing down to your neck and to your chest. Jsson grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, yanking the sweatshirt you were wearing off in a swipe. You gasped at the cold air against you before Jason began to quickly kiss all over your chest teasing you over your bra.

You arched up, pressing your hips into his as you craved more, needed more. “Jay, please”

“Use your words. What do you want?” He replied in an instant, his tough demeanor not faltering whatsoever.

You whined as you turned your head, watching as Jason kissed along your chest, his green eyes still staring into yours. “I, I need you to make me feel good. Need you fuck me,” You begged, you voice trembling with a whimper.

Jason just smiled against you, as he took your bra off with a click of your clasp. “Well you should've just said so baby,” He said before bringing one of your nipples into his mouth, the other being abused with his calloused hand.

You moaned loudly as your body responded to him. You could feel your heat building up, your panties sticking to you, your jeans suddenly getting way too hot. You wriggled underneath him, punching your jailed wrists into the mattress, as you wanted nothing more than to touch him. Jason then switched breasts, his mouth now attending the opposite one, his now free hand running down your body, as he unbuttoned your jeans, jamming his hand into your panties. He let out a low moan as he touched your folds, his face contorting into one of pleasure. “Fuck you’re soaked, gonna drown in you baby,” He muttered, leaving you now reddened nipple as he began to kiss your stomach.

You moaned and cried underneath him, your body moving and begging for him. “All for you, please Jay, it's all for you,” You whined, throwing your head back and you arched your back.

Jaosn hummed, placing a kiss right below your belly button. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, the moonlight coming right through your window and shining into his eyes. “How kind of you,” He mocked, before yanking your jeans down, your panties with them. You gasped as the cold air hit you once more, as Jason disgustingly inhaled your scent, setting his head right on  your inner thigh, teasing you as the feel of his hot breath on your core drove you insane. Jason hummed, before placing a kiss right on your clit, a moan escaping you in response. “You're right,” He started, looking up at you one last time, “This is all for me.” He confirmed, before he dove right into your pussy, eating you from the inside out. You yelled in glory as he ate you like his final meal. Arching and thrashing underneath him, Jason slopped all over you, disgusting noises filling the room, as he used his nose to brush against your clit as he attacked your hole with his tongue. You clenched around nothing. Pulsing as he now sucked on your clit, staring daggers into your eyes as he ate you whole. 

You whined and groaned, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside of you, but God, you were already close, his mouth doing dangerous things to you. Your whines and pants came out in shorter and faster strides, alerting Jason of your peak coming soon. He continued to eat you as he spoke against you, “Damn, you were needy.” Jason mocked, before you let out a scream, as you gushed all over his face, falling back into the bed as you panted, and screamed Jason's name.

Jason made sure to lap up all your juices, making sure not to leave a drop to be soaked up by the sheets. He loved the way you tasted, and he was greedy for it all, yet there was one person he would share with. He sat back upright again, sitting on his knees, his now full erection begging to break free from his jeans. He watched as you came down from your high, rubbing your sides to comfort you. Once you were back, staring in his eyes, he spoke, “You wanna taste yourself? It's five stars, baby," he joked.

You smiled up at him, nodding. “Mhm, gotta make sure it's good,” You giggled back.

Jason chuckled, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. He claimed your mouth as his, taking control of your tongue and exploring its environment. He slowly reached up, before letting your wrists free, throwing the belt on the floor. With your hand now free, you rushed them to his hairs, pulling on his and rubbing his head as he kissed you. You let your hands roam over his neck, pushing off his leather jacket, now left in just his body armor and jeans. His clothed state juxtaposed with your fully naked one. You brought your hands back to his front, clawing at his zipper once more. He broke the kiss, eyeing you. “Behave.” He simply stated firmly, “You'll get what you want.” He said, going back to kiss you as he brought your hands up to wrap around his neck. He brought one hand down, beginning to prep you for his entrance. He pushed through your folds, sticking two large, rough fingers inside of you as he began to thrust them inside of you. You wrapped your hands around his neck, whining and pulling him closer as he began to finger you. He placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing it as he fingered you, talking you through it the whole time.

“This what you wanted? Wanted me to make you feel good like this? Haven't even given you my cock yet and you're already getting close to cumming again on my fingers, I can feel it. You wanna cum on my fingers, wanna prove to me how badly you need my cock?”

You groaned and clawed at the back of Jason’s neck pulling him closer as you began to move your hips against his fingers. You nodded rapidly, panting as your second climax began to hit you again. “Fuck, fuck yes Jay I wanna cum all over you, want you to feel how badly I need you, you make me feel so good,” You blabbered, choking on your words as you rode his fingers through your second orgasm.

Jason watched as you hit your climax again, his fingers slowing but never stopping as he pushed you through your second orgasm. Once you were through it, Jason stared at you, pulling his fingers out, as he licked him clean, making sure to clean them up. 

Your mouth fell agape at the sudden removal of his fingers, but you moaned as you watched him lick his fingers, like it's the last thing he’ll ever try.

Jason stared at you, pulling off his body armor, and yanking his jeans off after. You never got sick of his body, and you love every part of his, You loved to kiss his scars, make him feel loved, and loved to worship the body he worked oh so hard for. You watched as he pumped his cock a few times, his tip red and swollen from being trapped for so long. You went to sit up reaching for his cock, before Jason pushed you back down, clicking his tongue at you. 

“No, you're just gonna lay there and take what I give you. You keep your hands to yourself and do not touch below my abs. If you had been good earlier, you'd get what you want, you did this to yourself.” He scolded, still pumping his cock, his body stuttering slightly as precum dripped from his tip.

You whined but listened, leaning back and keeping your legs spread, pouting as you looked at him, begging with your eyes.

Jason smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss, as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Good girl,” He praised, before sinking into you. As many times as the two of you fucked, neither of you would ever get used tot he initial sting. His girthy cock splitting and stretching you open, your fluffy walls hugging him each time he entered, it was a physical bliss for the both of you. The two of you both let your deep moans, harmonizing with each other,  You shuffled underneath him, getting adjusted, as he slowly began to pump. He bottomed out and filled you up each time, watching your face contort as you took him.

“F-Faster Jay,” You stuttered out, gripping his shoulders as you bit your lip.

Jason didn’t need to be told twice, he quickly grabbed your hips, and began to rock you against him, controlling the way your body moved as he filled you. He began to speed up, wet sounds and slaps filling the space of the room. You whined, clawing at his back. “More, more, fuck more please,” You spat, drooling over your words. Jason picked you up, turning you around. He shoved your face into the mattress, holding the back of your neck as your ass was arched in the air. With no warning, he slammed into you from behind, hitting you G-Spot as he fucked you in doggy. Jason slaps your ass a few times, pinching it and watching it get red from his hits. You drooled and groaned all over the mattress, nails clawing at the sheets below you. Jason bent behind you, getting closer to you ear, as he other hand came around to abuse your slit once more. 

“This what you need? Need me to fuck you like your mine, make you cum over and over again, till you remember I’m the one in control?” Jason whispered in your ear between grunts and moans. His pace never faltered, and his hand continued to roll over your swollen bud.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, as all you can do is nod and moan and babble, as Jason splits you open with his cock. You nod relentlessly, letting him use and mark you. You claw at the sheets, trying to sit up as Jason keeps you pinned to the mattress, yet you feel another orgasm approaching you. “Gonna, gonna cum again- fuck, fuck I’m cumming!” You scream under him, clenching around him. Jason continues to pump, his hand leaving your clit, as he picks you up again, positioning with him on his back, you now straddling him.

You nod and drool as Jason holds your arms down at your sides, him doing all the work as he pumps from under you, using his hips and arms to bounce you up and down. You looked down at his cock bouncing in and out of you, it was glistening with your slick but he still hadn’t cum yet.

You whine, rolling your head as you're covered in sweat, spit, and your cum. You’re over-stimulated, clenching around him, and still feeling like your orgasming. “Jay, fuck it’s just so much.” You whined

Jason stopped, leaving you just sitting on his cock, dick-drunk in a haze. He laughed, grabbing your face so you looked at him. “Oh, if you think that's all you're getting, you've got a long night ahead of you baby..I’m not done yet.” He taunted, before starting his assault on your pussy once again.

Jason thinks that people who reblog/like the fics they enjoy deserve a good time too ;)

also comment if you want a p.2 with fluff and aftercare!