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beomiracles · 3 days ago

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𝓟𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝓒𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ In Strawberryland, where all the people are happy, and a little fruity; Little Apricot finds herself drawn to the only thing the village seems to resent. — For in a lonesome house by the far end of the valley, where the sun never seems to shine, and the grass never seems to grow, lives a boy who was once as peachy as one could be.

Nowadays, he's grown somewhat of a hermit, and should his sharp glares not be enough, his harsh words certainly will be when he fends off any visitors that may dare come his way. No one knows what happened to the boy. Though one thing was clear; every peach Beomgyu touched quickly turned rotten. ⸝⸝

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 16k ་༘࿐

𝓹airings peach!beomgyu x little apricot!reader (f) 𝔀arnings heavy grumpy x sunshine trope, fairytale themed (kinda goes in threes, at least in the beginning), mean beomgyu, naive/gullible reader, longing/yearning, unprotected sex, creampie, little apricots cum is described as a jam-like texture, cum eating, oral (f. rec), overstimulation, beomgyu is fuzzy (cause peach fuzz), lot of kissing, loads of sexual tension..

#serene adds ✎.. hello!! I'm so so excited for this fic you guys seriously have no idea, imagine my current excitement and then bump it up 100x! I've worked so hard on this fic, but most of it felt so natural when I was writing, everything kinda just flowed? I hope that shines through!! ahh, and I can never shut up so here we are at 16k when my target was 7k but oh well.. oh but I would love to hear your thoughts on this!! merry christmas!! consider this my gift :3

THIS FIC IS A PART OF AN EVENT, GET REDIRECTED TO THE EVENTPOST !

The sun rises early in Strawberryland, its warm rays casting the plump little houses in an orange glow. It’s quiet, for the colorful meadow has yet to wake up. The birds are still sleeping soundly, the deers hidden in the treeline as they huddle close to one another. All that can be heard is the soft rippling of clear water as it runs along a small stream. Everyone is asleep, all except for one. — Little Apricot rises just as the sun, and she does so with excitement.��

Pots and silverware clank together, creating a chaotic atmosphere in your tiny kitchen as you shuffle about. The soft hum of a foreign melody dances across your lips, your hands working diligently as they alter between stirring the jam that was cooking on the stove, and onto unscrewing the lids of the many jars you’d prepared. An outsider would think something big was coming, that this might’ve been a special day indeed.

And it was. For Little Apricot at least.

“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty…” You point to each neatly secured jar, filled to the brim with creamy orange jam. They’re topped with a matching ribbon, tied nicely around the plaid and orange lid. And they’re now all ready to be handed out. — “Forty-nine…” You trail off, gaze lingering by the last jar, “Fifty…”

With pursed lips, your hands hover above it, debating on whether to shove it in the already full basket alongside the rest. In the end you do. And with your bright orange coat pulled over your body, you step outside, letting the warm sun caress the soft skin of your cheeks, causing a smile to spread across your face. Today was a good day.

Your steps are light and cherry as you skip down the cobbled road that takes you through Strawberry village. The happy song of the melody you sang rings out into the air, and you only tune it down to a soft hum as you approach the first door of the day. — With a gentle knock, you wait, swinging back and forth on two legs as you balance the heavy basket in your hands.

The blue door to the little hut swings open and you’re greeted by a mess of hair as bright and blue as the sky itself. Blueberry Kai greets you with a smile, his sapphire like eyes sparkling in the sun as they land on the basket in your hands. “Hi Little Apricot!” He almost sings the words and you refuse a giggle as you coyly avert your gaze.

“Hi Kai, I brought you one of these..” You reach for one of the jam filled jars, handing the boy it as you await his verdict. — Kai’s smile widens as he takes the jar from you, and it seems small in his large hands. “You’re too good to us Apricot”, he says, though doesn’t refuse your kindness but rather thanks you with the promise of bringing a fresh blueberry pie in the following days.

You continue like that, happily skipping down the road that looped around the village. And for each house you stopped by, the grin on your lips only grew, as did the warmth on your face and the love that filled your chest. Gradually your basket emptied and got lighter, and once you’d delivered Lemon Drop Soobin his jar, all that remained was one.

The bright and orange little jar looks lonely as it rocks back and forth by the bottom of your now comically large basket, and with a small frown you glance toward the forest line. “Hmpf”, you huff, shaking your head sharply before turning on your heel and marching toward the dark trees. You had made enough jam for everyone in this village, and you’d make sure to deliver it as well.

..Suppose you had underestimated the dark and menacing nature of the woods just slightly. But it wasn’t like the forest in Strawberryland was always this…scary, it just so happened to be the part where one individual resided. The youngest of the village speculated that his presence is what caused the nature around him to turn dark, that his vile and evil ways killed everything around him. You didn’t believe such nonsense, yet you found yourself gripping the basket tighter in your hands as you carefully trudged forward.

You’ve been walking for a good twenty minutes, following a sparse dirt road as you peer through the thick tree trunks, when a small cottage suddenly floats into vision. Your heart beat immediately picks up, thumping loudly against your ribcage as you with hesitant steps approach. — The small hut looks just like the others of the village. Or at least, it used to.

The white paint on its sides had been dirtied by nature's force, vines climbed the walls and tangled around the windowsills where the peachy paint had chipped. The roof was a round and once warm shade, though now, it looked just as lifeless as the rest of the house. You wondered how anyone could possibly live like this.

A small wooden sign is shoved into the ground, it is just as battered as the rest of the place and reads the words, “Keep Out!” A flicker of uncertainty passes you by, but you ignore it. It was probably just something he had put up to scare any kids that dared come this way despite their mother’s warnings.

As you heave the steps up his front door, you try to remember what he’d looked like. You don’t think you have seen him for quite some time now. For he only ventured into town when he needed something, and judging by the state of his small cottage, it had been a while. Still, you figured that he deserved a jar of jam just as much as anyone else. It wasn’t like he was a criminal or anything of the sort…He was just, well… Him.

The knock you deliver to his door is just as soft and cheerful as the others had been. Though this time you have to remind yourself to smile, it didn’t come naturally when your heart was palpitating at a near alarming rate. — You wait another minute, nearly two, but there’s still no answer. With a small frown you try your luck again.

Another soft knock.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” You call out, the shaky edge to your voice coming off a lot stronger than you’d hoped. But you hadn't come all the way out here for nothing, and you would be damned if you didn’t get this last jar off your hands. A few moments later, you hear it, the soft rustling of something, of someone, moving on the other side.

And much to your delight, the door swings open mere moments later. Though the sight you’re met with does little to ease the agitated beating of your heart. A tangled mess of unkempt dark brown hair, paired with fierce and menacing eyes and a nasty scowl that stretches across his pale lips. — Peach Beomgyu looked ready to beat you bloody.

Your words get caught in your throat, and as much as you try to swallow, not an ounce of saliva will go down. Clearing your throat, you readjust the basket in your hands, wordlessly extending it in front of you. Beomgyu’s gaze falls on the lonesome jar before snapping back up to you. His brows furrow, twisting his face into even more of an accusing look as his eyes narrow on you.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice has got a clean cut edge to it, sharp and impeccably demanding. Suddenly, your usual lines all diminish into nothing, your brain melting into a pile of jam as your mouth goes dry. “I… I brought you some-” — “I can see what it is, do you take me for an idiot?” He snaps, effortlessly cutting you off as he shoves your basket back with a look of sheer distaste.

Your mouth opens and closes, like that of a goldfish mindlessly swimming around in its bowl. “Y-Yes but you see I”, you swallow, “I made it myself.” And though you knew your words to be true, they were hardly convincing as you stumbled over them. Beomgyu’s brows rose on his forehead, but he did not look surprised, merely lightly interested. You counted the win anyway.

With trembling arms you extend him the basket once more, encouraging him to retrieve the jar. But he only looked at it as though it would jump up and bite him in the face. “Well you’ve wasted your time then”, he grunts, averting his gaze as he urges you off his porch. You won’t budge, feet clamming to the old wooden boards as you stubbornly present the jar for him.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hand through his dark hair, and you’re surprised when his fingers don't catch onto the mess of strands, in fact the brown locks looked almost…soft. You shake your head, blinking twice as you pick the jar up, shoving it against his hard chest as you peer over at him with a determined expression, your lips pressed together in a firm line.

“I’m sure you can reconsider”, you probe, much to little avail as Beomgyu’s scowl only grows. You were sure you’d overstepped for good this time. — But he doesn’t shout, nor does he tell you to get the hell away from his house. He chuckles. And though it’s far from an actual laugh, it’s something other than the tired and displeased groans. It makes your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way.

You almost expect him to wipe a half-hearted tear from his eye. To maybe condole you on your gullibleness or your overbearing kindness. Well, and a small part of you hopes he might actually accept the jar. — He does none of those things, instead he takes a small, almost unnoticeable step back. And before you know it, the door is slammed shut in your face, leaving you alone in the dark and menacing forest once more.

With a petulant huff, you glance toward the window by the door, just in time to see him drawing the peach colored curtains in front of the glass, blocking him from your view. “Bastard”, you mutter as you step off the porch, kneeling down in front of it to place the jar down, “I’ll just put you right here…”

As you trudge down the dirt path leading from his cottage and back to the village, you can feel his lingering gaze on you, peeking through the light and peachy curtains. You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished despite his refusal, for you did not take his cruel words personally. — At the end of the day an angry person will always be the angriest with himself.

⸝⸝

It quickly becomes somewhat of a habit for you to make fifty jars instead of forty-nine. At first you had told yourself that the number was just much more satisfactory in itself, and that it was easier to make five full batches rather than four and then some. But you could only lie to yourself for so long. And when you find yourself on Beomgyu’s doorstep a third time in the span of two weeks, you know that the extra jar is more than just a number.

He doesn’t answer you when you call for him, but you know he’s there, listening, even though he doesn't want to, because he can’t help himself. And each time, you place the little jar on his porch. The orange jam is a stark contrast to the dull forest all around, and is easily spotted. — You keep returning, not because you fancied being ignored outside his shut door, or because you enjoyed the muddy walk to his little house. But because whenever you returned, the jar from last time would be gone.

And when you for a fifth time find yourself on his porch, swaying back and forth as you hum along to a quiet melody, you’re surprised when the door actually opens. He’s frowning, lips tugged into what you presumed to be a permanent scowl. You wondered if he ever smiled. — Beomgyu gives you a quick one over, his gaze undoubtedly lingering by the jar in your basket.

He clears his throat, “What the hell are you still doing here?” His question catches you off guard and you blink as your attention returns to the present moment. “Huh?” Is all you can muster, the response coming out as a question of your own. — Beomgyu scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he’d just asked you the most obvious thing. “You’ve been out here for twenty minutes, what the fuck do you want?”

Twenty minutes? Had it really been that long.. You would admit that you usually lingered for a minute or two before placing the little jar and returning back home. It wasn’t like you were waiting for him, well… You might have been. Suppose that today your mind had travelled a little too far, even for your own liking. But to think that you’d spent a whole twenty minutes in front of his door, lost in thoughts..

“I… Well I..” You bite the inside of your cheek, your brows creasing into a confused frown. You open your mouth to speak, but what comes out is not a coherent response, rather… “Your hair is brown.”

Beomgyu looks taken aback for once, his own frown deepening tenfold as he regards you with confusion. “So?” He retorts, folding his arms across his chest. — You don’t think it had ever occurred to you, but the unkempt and wild mess atop his head was a dark shade of brown, nearly black. It suited him, sure, it made his already sharp features and dark eyes stand out even more. But you couldn’t help but wonder why…

All of the people in Strawberryland had cheerful and bright colors. You thought of Blueberry Kai’s bright blue hair, Lemon Drop Soobin’s warm yellow and Yeonjun Sorbet’s striking red. Yet Peach Beomgyu had…brown hair? It didn’t make any sense. — Beomgyu looks almost insulted as he waits for you to respond, impatiently tapping his foot against the threshold.

“Isn’t your hair supposed to be…peach colored?” You say, pointing a curious finger to the mess on his head. Beomgyu frowns, reaching a hand up to run through the dark locks as he waves you off, huffing in dismay. “What’s it to you?” He tsk’s, his attention flickering down to the jam in your basket once more, and only when his gaze meets yours do you register the silent question behind his eyes.

“O-Oh, right I brought you more jam!” You force a small smile, the least you could do was be polite. You were determined to make friends with him, one way or the other. And as you hand him the glass container, Beomgyu takes it. It’s a huge first step, and you feel your heart swelling at the action. He twists the jar between his fingers, studying it like it might explode on him any second now.

At last, he gives a small hum of approval. — “It’s good, right?” Your question comes out too cherry, already celebrating your small victory. Beomgyu quickly shoots that bird down with a sneer. “I’m being polite, there’s a difference.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his eyes taking over your hopeful frame once more. “Though I’m sure you couldn’t tell the difference even if you wanted to.”

The door slams shut on your nose.

Suddenly, the forest is cold again, the heat falls from your face, the fire coursing within you being drowned out by a bucket of cold water. Well, there goes that. You wait by his door for another five minutes, but the small cottage is silent. The curtains are drawn, shutting you out, just like he did everybody else.

With heavy steps you climb off the porch, cringing at how the old and withered boards creaked under your weight. Your sigh echoes against the tall trees that loom above you, and you slowly make your way down the muddy path. You had noticed on your second visit that flowers didn’t seem to grow here, any sign of vegetation seemingly drowned out by the nearly unbearing anger and resentment that lingered in these woods.

Had Beomgyu really caused all of that?

You think back to your brief encounter with him, with Beomgyu. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind seemed to get caught on his brown hair, you couldn’t quite shake it off. You only knew one other brown-haired individual here, and that was Gingerbread Taehyun. But Beomgyu and Taehyun were far from alike, and you shake your head once more.

Something was wrong, very clearly so. For the way Beomgyu had disregarded the matter, shoving it aside like it pained him to be reminded of… You longed to know what could have caused it. And you find yourself imagining a different Beomgyu, a Beomgyu that smiled. With light and peachy hair, a pink blush coating his soft cheeks, warming his pale face up. You imagine a Beomgyu with dimples that dented into his skin hard from laughter.

You imagine a happy Beomgyu.

The fantasy makes your steps return to their usual light skip, and by the time you re-enter the lively village, you feel happy again.

⸝⸝

With your basket filled once more, you head down the cobbled road, taking you around Strawberry town. Today you were in a particularly good mood. You don’t know if it had to do with meeting Blueberry Kai out by his berry bushes, or if it had to do with the little rabbit you saw in your garden this morning. But you were determined to make this day a perfect one.

In fact, you were in such a joyous mood that the dark clouds crowding the village did not bother you as you went knocking on each and every door. For each smile you received, for each jar you handed out, the love beating within your heart only seemed to grow. — When you turn off the large road, and venture onto the muddy path taking you deep within the forest, you’re filled to the brim with love. And if there was one person in Strawberry village that needed it, it was Peach Beomgyu.

You think you’re about halfway there when the first droplet lands on the tip of your nose. The cold water makes you frown as it slides down your face, catching on your bottom lip. Sticking your tongue out to taste it, the sweet flavor fills your mouth. After that another one follows, then another one, and another one. It’s not long before rainfall is pouring down over you, clinging to the leaves and splashing against the forest floor in dramatic effect.

Blinking the droplets from your eyes, you scurry forward, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you hurry. Mud clams to your orange shoes, dirtying them in disgraceful shades of brown. But you carry on, relief flooding your chest as the familiar little house floats into vision. You do not stop to consider who’s door you were actually knocking on when you slam your fist against the weathered wood.

Today, you have no time to wait outside for another five minutes, you have no time to bicker with the grumpy man over his doorstep and you certainly don’t want to turn on your heel and endure the unpleasant walk home. There was little that could diskindle your spirits, but rain and mud were definitely two of them.

Much to your immense relief and surprise, the door glides open a mere minute later, revealing a confused looking Beomgyu. The smile stretching across your lips only seems to make his scowl grow. Yet you persist, giving him your widest and most pleading eyes as you silently beg for him to let you inside. — Beomgyu’s harsh gaze flickers from your wet coat, clinging to your body and the adamant look on your face before shifting to the heavy rain that battered against his porch.

With a displeased groan he steps to the side, allowing you to skip inside the small cottage. Your excitement as you enter his home is followed up by a small squeal, your gaze darting around as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. — Beomgyu’s house was unlike anything you had ever imagined, not to say that you had spent a deliberate amount of time trying to figure out how he lived, you had merely been…Curious, so to say.

From the peachy curtains to the matching sets of creamy pink pillows that adorned his small sofa, everything seemed to follow a peachy theme. The fireplace sparking in the middle of the room draws your attention and you quickly find yourself huddling in front of it as you rub your cold hands together.

Your quiet ‘woah’ as you pull your orange coat from your wet body rings out into the silent house. The kitchen by the corner looks to have been used recently, a small pot of something placed on the stove. Amazed by the fact that Peach Beomgyu lived like any other resident in Strawberry village, your jaw hangs open as you remain frozen in place.

Somewhere behind you, Beomgyu emerges from the hallway. He stops a good distance from you, leaning against one of the crowded bookshelves pushed up alongside the wall, his arms folded across his chest. You send him a bright smile, “Thank you”, you say, not knowing how else to show your gratitude for his hospitality.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, a small scoff passing his lips as he averts his gaze, his dark eyes lingering on something you couldn’t quite catch. A brief silence follows, it’s almost awkward.. You’re not exactly sure what to say, what he would appreciate hearing, if anything even suited those pesky ears of his.

So you hum, quietly rocking back and forth on your feet as you glance at the decorations above the fireplace. They were nothing fancy, and most of the tiny figurines looked old, perhaps he’d inherited them. Come to think of it, you don’t remember ever hearing anything about a family member of his. The thought sadeness you for reasons you cannot understand. It wasn’t like Beomgyu was opposed to the solitary life he lived, he’d chosen it for himself, hadn’t he?

Yet you can’t help but purse your lips at the thought of living like this, no matter how cozy his quaint little cottage was, it still lacked the warmth of love. — “It is a lovely home you’ve got”, you say, trying your best to show interest in the way he’d decorated the space. But Beomgyu doesn’t seem to buy into the mundane compliment. He merely shrugs, letting out a small grunt as his dark eyes flicker back to you.

“Why were you out in the rain?” It’s the first time he’s ever asked you an actual question, the first time he’d even seemed moderately interested in anything that regarded you. Your smile only widens, and you can see the way his face twists in distaste at your ever so cheerful attitude. “Well why do you think? I was delivering jam!” The exclamation immediately makes you jump as you come to your senses and you reach for the basket you had discarded on the floor.

The small jar is wet and you wipe it against the sleeve of your shirt before skipping over to him in order to hand him it. Beomgyu’s arms remain stubbornly crossed as his gaze flits between the orange jam and your hopeful grin. With a small groan he relents and plucks it from your waiting hand, shoving it onto the shelf next to him as he averts his attention elsewhere.

You wondered if your presence made him uncomfortable. Judging by the way he stood, the greater portion of his body turned as far away from you as possible, and his jaw clenched, you would guess it did. Then again, was there anyone Peach Beomgyu liked? You did not take his grumpy demeanor or his shortcut responses personally. Still, there was an unmistakable opportunity at hand, and you would be a fool not to take it.

“Mind if I take a seat?” You ask, but you’re already approaching the small couch. Beomgyu’s lip twitches, but he gives a small nod, his arms returning to their crossed position over his chest. His sofa is oddly comfortable, allowing you to sink into the cushion as you lean back slightly. The warmth of the fire caresses your cold face, slowly melting the layer of metaphorical ice that had built around you. No amount of fire would be able to melt the harsh ice block surrounding Beomgyu, you thought with a small grin.

He remains unmoving and unspeaking, quietly watching you from his spot by the corner of the room. You did not insult him on his lack of manners, he had actually allowed you inside his home even as you showed up unannounced, perhaps that was more than enough. — Your attention falls on your muddy shoes and a pang of guilt flares through you. “Oh, sorry, I should’ve taken these off!”

Beomgyu opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted as you kick the pointy orange heels off your feet, scurrying toward the door as you place them right in front of it. “Sorry, I’ll clean it up, don't worry!” You say as you dart for his kitchen. Quickly disoriented, you tug open drawers and pull cabinet doors in search of anything to clean the stain you had left on his floors. “Where do you keep your towels?” You ask, so caught up in trying to resolve the mess you’d unintentionally caused that you didn’t even notice him creeping up behind you.

“Here”, he says as he hands you a peach colored rag. You freeze, for his voice came from just above your ear, his chest nearly pressed against your back. The scent of fresh peaches made you nearly drowsy as you blink before gingerly accepting the cloth from him, trying your hardest to ignore the way your fingers brushed against one another, the tingle that the soft fuzz coating his skin left. “I… Thanks”, you coyly mumble, desperately wishing he wouldn’t catch on to the stammer of your voice as you round him in the small kitchen, quickly slipping away from his intoxicating presence.

What was that.. You think to yourself, brows knitted together in a confused frown as you find yourself on the floor, scrubbing the muddy stains away. The sounds of his approaching footsteps make your eyes widen, and you refuse to turn your head in his direction. — “It’s really not necessary”, he mutters, the usual grumpiness to his voice replaced with something akin to guilt. But you firmly shake your head, scrubbing even harder at the old wood. “It’s fine, no problem! I caused it!” You chirp, ignoring his small huff as you continue to clean.

When you’re done you gingerly rise to your feet, clutching the now dirty rag between your fingers as you bite the inside of your cheek. Beomgyu reaches for it again, but you quickly pull back, you don’t think you could bear feeling his skin against yours a second time. “I’ll put it away!” You quickly say, plastering on the biggest of grins you could muster, “Where do you want it?”

Beomgyu’s expression is unreadable as he studies you for a moment. It looks almost as if he’s about to say something, but he stops himself, shaking his head once as he points down the hall. Quickly nodding, you follow in that direction, the sounds of your feet padding against the floor ringing in your ears.

Finally away from his intense gaze, you exhale a sigh of relief as you turn to relocate yourself. The dark hallway had led you to what you presumed to be a small washroom, racks of clothes crowded the vast majority of the space, and you found a small sink as well. You place the dirty cloth in the hamper before turning to head back. But before you can even get as much as another step in, a door to your left catches your attention. It’s slightly ajar, letting on to the bed inside.

Quickly glancing down the hall once more, you dare a small peek inside. Beomgyu’s bedroom did not match the rest of the house. It lacked all the peachy colors, instead it was crowded from head to toe in… books. Sure the bookshelves in the living room had caught your attention earlier, but just as the old figurines, you’d figured that it was something he’d inherited. Now you can’t help but wonder if Beomgyu actually enjoyed literature. While the prospect did indeed seem odd, it wasn’t entirely out of place either. There was only so much entertainment out here..

But before you get the chance to investigate further, the sounds of floorboards creaking pulls you from your brief trance. Sharply turning on your heel, you make your way back into the living room where Beomgyu was waiting for you. — The rain was still pouring down outside, and you had little clue of just how long you were going to be stuck here.

As your gaze falls on Beomgyu, you feel your breath getting caught in your throat. You don’t know what it was, but something had changed. Something that made you so impeccably drawn to him in a way you could not fathom. You tried to reason with yourself, you tried to shift the blame onto the weather, onto the clumsy mistake of waltzing inside his home without as much as a second thought.

But as your eyes linger by his dark ones, the narrowed gaze he still held, you find that it’s none of those things. Suddenly you know why you keep returning to this small hut, why you bother with the twenty minute walk back and forth, why you face rejection on his doorstep each time. — You felt empathy for him, perhaps even pity. You pitied Beomgyu, the lonely boy who lived all alone out in the forest, with no one to come visit.

And perhaps that was naive of you. To even think that he cared about something as trivial as a bit of company. Yet you couldn’t find it in you to take his mean and cruel demeanor to heart. Because no matter how harsh the bark was, he never seemed to bite. He had let you inside his home, in spite of your persistent nagging on his porch for the past weeks. He hadn’t minded when you dirtied his floors, and even now, he didn’t seem to want you to leave.

So were you really that naive to think that what you were doing was right? That what you were doing was appreciated by him, even if he didn’t show it. You want to think so.

“Do you want me to make you tea?” You chirp, breaking the thick silence that had filled the small living room. Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow at you, but merely shrugs. You weren’t even sure if he had the ingredients to make tea, you had just assumed… It was something everyone had, no?

Ignoring his nonchalant response, you walk past him and into the small little kitchen once more. It wasn’t at all like your big one at home, but then again, you doubted that he spent his days making fifty jars worth of apricot jam. — He doesn’t follow you, and part of you is relieved. His absence allows you to work casually as you still tried to figure out what about him had made you so nervous all of a sudden.

You take your time as you bring out a pot, setting it down on the stove as you fill it with water from the tap. Once it’s slowly boiling, you rummage around to find yourselves a pair of cups to drink from. Pulling drawers upon drawers open, you cough as the smell of dust invades your senses, some of these looked to have been kept shut for years.

As a last resort, you tug the cabinet door above the fridge open. And your eyes immediately widen as they fall on the empty jars stacked inside. All of them are cleaned out, the glass reflecting in the dim light of the kitchen. Your gaze lingers by the orange lids, and the silk ribbons you’d tied around them still intact. A small smile tugs at your lips, your heart warming at the sight. He even kept the jars.

Quickly slamming the cabinet shut when he approaches, you turn to him with a flushed expression. “Where are your cups?” You squeak, the surprise in your tone evident, not having expected him to reappear so soon. — Beomgyu leans against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest as he nods toward the one drawer you had yet to open. Mentally slapping yourself, you turn to it with a tight smile as you pull it open.

As you prepare the herbs for the tea and check on the water, you try to make plain conversation. You ask him about the weather, about what he does during the days or if he has any upcoming plans. You find that he’s a very concise individual, and you’re never able to pull more than a short sentence from him as he begrudgingly responds to your persistent interrogation.

Still, he stays in the kitchen until you finish pouring the cups. Whether that was because he didn’t trust you around his house or because he wanted to be there, remained unknown to you.

The tea is boiling hot against your tongue, yet you insistently bring it to your lips, taking small and hesitant sips as you desperately avoid his gaze. For someone so short of words, he seemed to have no problem staring at you. You told yourself that it might have to do with his lack of social interaction. But his unyielding gaze slowly chipped away at your resolve, making you all the more anxious as you glanced out the window, wishing for the rain to let up soon.

It still felt so surreal, standing in Peach Beomgyu’s kitchen, drinking tea from his cups, as if this was just another Thursday afternoon. But his prolonged silence made the growing tension between you feel anything but mundane and ordinary. Did he really not have anything to say? You had tried every approach imaginable, there was nothing that would get him to utter more than a small hum.

As your eyes peer out the window, and over what you imagined to once have been a garden, a new question surfaces. — Your attention flickers back to him, still by the door frame, he’s gripping the cup in one hand, barely having sipped his tea, he seems far too preoccupied with watching you.

“Don’t you grow any peaches?” You ask, letting your head fall to the side as you take your turn in studying him. Beomgyu’s unreadable expression morphs into a small frown, and he ponders your question for a moment. When a whole minute passes, you think he might not reply at all, it wouldn’t be completely unexpected, for he had little manners as it was. But then he suddenly shifts his weight over to his other leg, readjusting his hold on the cup.

“No.”

He states firmly, finally bringing the peachy mug to his lips as he takes a sip of his tea. It’s your turn to frown, your gaze dropping to the brown mixture swirling in your own cup as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Why not?” — Everyone in Strawberryland tended to their fruits, so why didn’t he?

Beomgyu shrugs, appearing more than disinterested in the conversation taking place. “I don’t like them”, he says, the nonchalance in his tone taking you aback as your eyes snap to him. Don’t like them? But he was Peach Beomgyu, was he not supposed to love peaches? You want to ask him what he means by that, what made him so resentful of the one thing he represented. But the closed off look on his face made you waver. You did not want to blindly push and prod at buttons which you had no clue of.

You remain silent, awkwardly sipping your tea as you avoid his burning gaze.

And as your cups emptied out, the rain stopped.

⸝⸝

Peach Beomgyu did not like visitors. In fact, he detested them. Much so that he had gone to the quite extreme length of putting up warning signs in front of his house. And while the signs did their job at keeping nosey little kids out, they seemed futile on that persistent ball of joy that would skip past them as she neared his cottage.

Beomgyu could not understand what made Little Apricot come back over and over again. He could not understand what kept you in such a jolly mood and he could certainly not fathom the reasoning behind the little jars of jam you would leave behind. — It irked him in a way that was beyond explainable. And every three or four days, he would be pulled from whatever book he was reading by two curt knocks to his door.

Internally groaning he would shake his head, ignoring the fierce ray of sunshine on the other side. But you just wouldn’t leave. The sounds of you humming along to a light melody would slip through the cracks of his shut door, it would creep inside his house and dance across him, taunting him with its sickly sweetness. Beomgyu would swat it away, pressing his nose further into his book as he desperately tried to ignore any signs of your presence.

You would always leave after a few minutes, taking your light and cherry song with you as you did. And Beomgyu would always sigh out in relief, ignoring the small tug at his chest when the silence enveloped him once more. — He would get up, carefully pull the curtains to the side as he watched your bright orange coat disappear into the thick forest of trees.

Then he would open his door, stopping in his tracks as his gaze flickered down to the little jar you’d left behind. When it first occurred he’d slammed the door shut. Ignoring the jar for a good twenty minutes before ripping the door open again with a frustrated huff, finding the jam still there, its bright orange color stinging his eyes.

For some reason, Beomgyu had picked it up, he’d turned it in his hands and opened the lid. The creamy jam smelled just like you, the soft and sweet aroma of apricot prickling his nose in a most unfamiliar way. And he’d taken the jar inside, stubbornly ignoring it for a whole day before he finally caved. — It tasted just as delicious as it smelled, as delicious as you smelled.

Beomgyu finished the jar in half a day, and when it was all empty, he found himself staring at the clean glass with a confused frown. It was just jam. He scoffed as he shoved the empty jar into a cabinet, blatantly ignoring the fact that he had yet to throw it away, telling himself that he might find use for it in the future.

When you returned mere days later, he ignored you, yet he found another jar, just like the first on his porch. It would go on like that, and for some reason, Beomgyu found himself listening after that sickeningly cheerful melody you always sang. And everytime you knocked on his door, his fingers would itch to reach out and open it, for reasons he could not understand, and did not want to.

But on your seventh return, you did not give your usual curt knocks, you did not hum along to any melody at all. At first, Beomgyu didn't even believe it to be you. But as he opened the door, and found Little Apricot on his porch, drenched from head to toe, he found himself unable to move. Not even when you pleaded with him so nicely did it register what you were asking.

And suddenly you were inside his home, the place he treasured so dearly and had sealed off to the rest of the world. Yet you had managed to worm your way inside, and the feeling that bloomed within his chest was like no other. — You were everywhere, the same sickeningly sweet scent of your apricot jam now filled his entire home. It clung to the walls, soaked in the carpets and dusted off on the furniture. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t block it out, and you occupied his mind and body fully. It confused him.

You quickly made yourself at home, and Beomgyu noted that you were just as dutiful about any other task as you were your jam. Rushing about even though you barely found your way, tugging cabinet doors and pulling drawers open as you made the two of you tea. — He doesn’t know why he lets your eager hands wander over his belongings, why he drinks the tea you make him or why he even bothers to answer any of your invasive and prying questions.

He feels nearly dizzy in your presence, it’s a strange and uncanny feeling, a feeling he hasn’t felt in years, if ever. And Beomgyu doesn't know if he should fear the warm and fuzzy feeling that spreads within his chest as he looks at you, or if he should give in to it completely. Though if he did, he feared that you wouldn’t ever look at him the same.

Oh but Beomgyu likes the way you look at him. With big and hopeful eyes. You don’t seem to understand just how messed up he is, or perhaps you do, and in that case you had to be stupid to ignore it. Naive. That was probably the right word. Gullible, sweet, and far too kind for your own good. Did you not know not to trust everything you see? He shakes his head at the thought.

Still, there’s an odd feeling of comfort in the way you embrace him, with your kind words and quiet care as you deliver him jam. He doesn’t want to let go of that feeling just yet, though if he ever tries to pursue it, he thinks you might crumple in front of him. — It has him torn. And as he lies in bed that night, the smell of apricots linger around him, pressing in on him with a demanding force.

He groans as he turns over, burying his face in the pillows. But all he can see is you, your bright orange coat, and he can smell you, you’re everywhere, plaguing his body and mind. He twists uncomfortably, stubbornly ignoring the heat pooling in his stomach, refusing to let his hands wander as he tries to block out any thought of you.

Beomgyu wishes that you won’t come by his house again. He knows he won’t be able to stop himself if you do.

⸝⸝

The soft knock to your door makes you tear yourself from the empty jars you were currently wiping down, discarding them on the countertop as you make your way over to the entrance. Your steps are light and cherry as you skip over, fingers twisting the lock, an excited grin already plastered across your face. — “Blueberry Kai!” You squeal when you’re met with the sight of the blue haired boy, his tall frame looming over you as he gives a shy nod.

“Hi Little Apricot!” He says, his face flushing in an adorable shade of blue. Your gaze drifts to his hands, clutching a blue box tightly. “I uh..” He sends you a coy smile as he extends the box, “Got you this.. As a thank you, for you know.. All you do.”

It’s with wide eyes that you happily accept the gift, feeling its weight in your hands as you gently pluck the lid. Your attention falls on the freshly baked blueberry pie and the sweet aroma immediately fills your nostrils. With a wide grin, you glance up at him, “You’re the best Kai!”

The two of you settle out in your garden, amidst the many apricot trees you had planted, all blooming with ripe and orange fruits. Hungrily wolfing down the pie Kai had brought, you barely make time for conversation as you focus on savoring the flavors on your tongue. And when you for the fifth time exclaim, “It’s delicious!”, Kai can’t help but chuckle.

Once the wave of desire has cooled off, and your stomach starts to feel full, you lean back in your chair as you regard him with a questioning expression. It looked like something was bothering him, for his usual lopsided smile was nowhere to be found, and his brows furrowed across his forehead. — “Is something up?” You ask him as you wipe your lips on the corner of a napkin, gently placing it down as you twist in your seat.

Kai’s head snaps in your direction, and he gives a sheepish look, as if you’d caught his drift of mind. “Yeah I just..” He trails off, as if unsure of how to word himself properly. You wait, your legs swinging back and forth as your bare feet drag through the wild grass, the feeling tickling your sensitive skin.

“Have you been seeing Peach Beomgyu?”

The question was not one you’d expected, and you feel your face heat up as you turn your gaze back to the blue haired boy. “I deliver him jams, just like everyone else!” You say, plastering on an even wider grin as you try and brush past the topic. But Kai doesn’t let it go, his brows creasing even further as he leans forward. “Why? I mean, it’s not like he’s done anything for you.. And I’m not saying I don’t think it’s kind of you”, he takes a breath, slowly letting it go. “But what if he’s just using you, Apricot?”

Your frown makes him immediately continue as he says; “I mean, he’s not exactly friendly.. I’m just afraid you’ll end up getting taken advantage of, your kindness is something many of us take for granted…” — His words made you think, your chin jutted out as your mind traveled back to the visits you’d paid Beomgyu. You recall the many times he’d slammed the door in your face, and the times in which he hadn’t opened it at all. Suppose Kai might have a point…

But you also remember that rainy day not too long ago. You remember the way his gaze lingered by you, the way your heart fluttered at his mere presence. It couldn’t possibly be what Kai was implying, could it? If he was really taking advantage of your kindness, why did your heart beat so quickly at the thought of his name?

“I think he deserves the jam just as much as anyone else in Strawberryland”, you state, nodding to yourself as you sink back in the chair, arms spread on the armrests. Kai bites the inside of his cheek remaining quiet, though the look on his face told you that he wished to intervene further.

“I talk to him”, you shrug, acting as if the matter was nothing short of common for you. — “He is actually quite an interesting person, if you give him a chance.” You send Kai a small smile, but the blue haired boy doesn’t seem to buy it as he runs a hand through his short hair. “I don’t know Apricot… There’s a reason he lives out there..” — “Like what?” You cut him off, leaning forward in an instant with an almost challenging look on your face.

Kai opens his mouth to speak, then he stops himself. You watch as he battles with himself for a moment before finally sighing. “Well he’s…Different.” — “Different how?” You knew you were pushing him now, and that he soon would be caving, but you didn’t care. For a small part of you, a part you had tried to ignore for long, felt the need to defend Beomgyu, even if you hardly knew him, it felt like your responsibility. Because if you didn’t, then who would?

“You don’t know?” Kai suddenly asks and your face falls for a moment. Didn’t know what? Kai shifts in his seat as he glances around your flourishing garden, as if checking for witnesses, and when he speaks again, it's in a hushed whisper. “You know… About the peaches..”, he murmurs, swallowing as he holds your gaze.

“The peaches?” You repeat, a little too loud for his liking as he winces. “Yes”, he mutters between sealed lips. “He can’t… I mean, he says he doesn’t like them, but the truth is he can’t even grow them.” Kai leans back up as soon as he’s uttered the words, hurriedly checking his surroundings once more before shrinking back against the backrest of his chair.

Your face contorts into a confused grimace, “Can’t grow peaches?” That’s ridiculous, everyone in Strawberryland grows their own fruits, what could possibly make him so different? Kai slowly nods as he fiddles with the spoon discarded on his empty plate. “I mean, I’m sure he doesn’t want to either, but even if he did, he physically can’t”, he shrugs before continuing, “That’s why he moved out there, so that the rest wouldn’t have to know how much of a failure he was…” He says the last words with a hint of sympathy, and you couldn’t help the way your chest churned at the thought.

“You’re saying I should stay away from him?” It’s not a question but a statement, you didn’t need an answer because Kai had already made himself clear. Yet he gives a firm nod, letting the silverware drop back onto the plate. “Yes”, he says, “I’m worried that whatever curse lingers around him might transfer onto you…Besides, who knows what he’s capable of..”

It hurt, hearing him speak so negatively of Beomgyu. Suppose you had grown a small attachment to the grumpy peach, so what? Delivering him some jam every now and then certainly didn’t harm anyone. You failed to see Kai’s reasoning, failed to see the worry laced within his words. Still, you did something most uncharacteristic, you lied.

“I won’t go see him.”

⸝⸝

Your basket isn’t as heavy as usual when you skip down the cobbled road. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that you had only brought three jars of jam today, and they were all meant for one person. — Throwing a final glance over your shoulder, you venture off the main road, emerging into the thick treeline as you begin the journey to Peach Beomgyu’s house.

Not only had you brought jam, but you’d put in the effort of baking muffins as well. They had come out slightly burnt, their edges a refined and dark black but you didn’t mind, they tasted just as sweet and you were sure they would go well with the jam. — To thank him, that was the goal of today, you told yourself. To thank him for his hospitality as he let you stay last time, and enough jars of jam to last him well over two weeks.

As you near the now familiar house, you can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. It flutters in the pits of your stomach, swirling around as your heart beats steadily within your chest. Had you not been so focused on the task at hand, perhaps you would’ve noticed the way the trees seemed to sway, the leaves rustling despite the lack of wind and the eerie silence that fell over the woods on this particular day.

But you don’t, and soon enough, you’re making the steps up his creaking porch. Your soft knock somehow seems to ring out like thunder in the thick and quiet air. — Glancing around, you prepare for the inevitable wait as you sway back and forth on your feet. But to your surprise, it is mere moments later that the door is ripped open, revealing a disheveled Beomgyu on the other side.

Immediately you notice the subtle flush across his normally pale and cold cheeks. His dark hair stands in all directions, and you frown as your gaze flickers over his dark eyes, his pupils widened to an extent that nearly concerns you. Was he sick? Had you come at a bad time? Your attention falls on the way his chest heaves with each jagged breath he takes, and it trails along his arm, finally landing on the way his fingers bore into the wood of the doorframe to steady himself, knuckles turning white at the sheer force he used.

“Beomgyu, is everything okay?” You ask, blinking the shock away as you readjust the grip on your basket. He doesn’t say anything, and you were just about to suggest coming back another time when he suddenly lurches forward. — You barely have time to realize what’s happening, but the feel of his vice-like grip around your wrist makes you wince as he yanks you inside.

The door slams shut behind you and the smell of peaches suddenly infiltrates your every sense. You don’t think you have ever smelled anything like it before. It was strong, sweet, almost sickly so. It felt far from the citrusy tang apricots carried and you frown as you glance around the area. His living room looks the same, kitchen too, where was the smell coming from? — A chill runs down your spine as you pick up on the sound of a lock clicking behind you. Beomgyu’s harsh exhale is hot against the back of your neck, and it makes the hairs there stand tall as you freeze in place.

When he places an equally warm hand on your shoulder do you realize that the smell is coming from him. He’s practically radiating it. And along with the thick layer of heat that coats him, it pulsates off of him with steady rhythm, slapping you across the face as you squint up at him. Just what was going on.. “Beomgyu..?” He doesn’t answer, and you fervently search his gaze, only to find that he’s looking at something completely different.

You cover your mouth with a trembling hand, a confused and alarmed frown painting the rest of your face. He must have caught something, a virus of some sort, something that made his body flare up like this, something that made him smell so…So truly divine. You shake your head, screwing your eyes shut as you take a step back.

He still hasn’t said anything, not a single word from the moment he ripped his door open. And when he takes a step forward, you find yourself immediately faltering backward. He chases you, with deliberate and long strides, and you don’t stop until your back hits one of his overcrowded shelves, the books and figurines on it rattling as you do. You turn your head in surprise, only to feel his hot fingers on your chin as he steers you back his way.

Beomgyu pries your hand from your lips, his breath audibly hitching in his throat when his eyes fall on your open mouth once more. He looks ready to swallow each shaky exhale you emit, and before you can protest does he slam his lips against yours. — Your eyes shoot open, your hands flying to his shoulders in an attempt to push him back. But Beomgyu was strong, scarily so, and he easily shoves you up against the shelf.

The small noise of surprise gets drowned out by his harsh groan, his hands gripping at your waist as he shoves you against the stacked books. — “B-Beomgyu wait- This isn’t…” You manage to gasp when he parts for air. His face is flushed in a light pink, and the mess of dark brown hair lays in uneven sections across his hungry eyes as he pants. It didn’t make any sense, none of this did.

Your basket had fallen to the floor due to all the commotion and one of the jars had rolled onto the hard wood. Beomgyu didn’t even seem to register the chaos he was creating as he pressed his lips back on yours. He kisses you with a need best described as insatiable, leaving room for nothing but his demanding ways as his tongue shoves past your parted lips, slipping into your mouth with urgency.

The shock slowly begins to wear off and you realize what’s actually going on. Peach Beomgyu was kissing you, well, he was damn near eating you. It didn’t… You didn’t… Your thoughts seemed to cut short, any sense of semblance slipping through the cracks of your fingers as you helplessly chased them. — You should push him off, you should yell at him and ask what in the world had gotten into him.

Because Peach Beomgyu didn’t make friends, and hell, he certainly didn’t kiss people. This was completely unwarranted and you deserved more than an explanation for his near outrageous actions.

For some reason, you find yourself pulling him even closer.

It barely registered at first. Your fingers moved on their own as they clutched the shirt he was wearing, tugging him against you with a force just as strong as his. You couldn’t explain it, the need to be close, the need to give in to every single thought that yelled for you to back away. — Kai’s words linger in your scrambled mind when Beomgyu’s hands go to the back of your thighs, hoisting you into his arms, forcing a proximity that was dangerously close.

Perhaps you should’ve listened to him when he’d told you to stay away. When he’d warned you about Beomgyu. Something was not right with him, you knew that, every fiber of your being told you that this was a bad idea. Yet your mind couldn’t seem to overpower the fire that spread inside your heart, clutching it tightly in its grip, pulling you towards Beomgyu.

You have always followed your heart. You followed it when you delivered jam, because it fluttered when the others appreciatively accepted their jar. You followed it because it beats extra hard when someone smiles your way. You followed it because it made you happy. Even now, you followed it, you followed it through the thick and dark trees, through the wilted flowers and the eerie silence that led all the way to his house.

You followed your heart all the way to Beomgyu, until you finally found yourself in his arms.

A noise of surprise rips from the back of your throat as he walks you over to the couch, setting you down amongst the peachy pillows. He stares down at you for a moment, his tongue swiping across your plump lips, and you find yourself mesmerized by him. In the dim light of the fireplace, he didn't look at all like his cold and mean self. Beomgyu looked warm, flourishing and alive.

The strong scent of peaches radiated off of him in waves, making your eyes flutter as you got a whiff of him. — Your mouth opens, you want to say something, you want to confirm that this moment is real, that this is just not a figment of your imagination and that you are actually here, that he’s actually here and that he’s… Him.

“You smell good.” His voice is gruff, and you can barely make out his dark eyes as he leans down, for his brown hair covers the majority of his flushed face. — You squeal when his lips drag across the juncture of your neck, when his hot tongue presses against your skin. “Like apricots..” He murmurs, as his nose nudging against your collarbone, “But better.”

He inhales sharply, the groan he emits going straight to your core and you feel a strange wave of desire build in your stomach. It felt weird, though not unpleasant, and certainly not unwelcome. — Still, you shriek when his fingers reach for your orange coat, insistently tugging it from your body. Beomgyu doesn’t even seem to register your bashful exclamation as you try to cover yourself, instead he tugs at your blouse, flicking the first few buttons open as his eyes rake across your warm skin.

“Fuck”, he grunts and you would be ashamed to admit that the small slip of his tongue made you throb. — “Do you like this?” He asks, his hungry eyes suddenly latching onto yours. Your face was practically on fire as you nodded, and Beomgyu’s smirk grew wide. “I can tell”, he then adds, making you jump as his hand slides up your inner thigh, stopping all the way under your plaid skirt, his fingers inches from the lining of your panties, “You reek of it.”

“I…” You did not know if that was a compliment or not. But you meekly tried to close your legs, only for Beomgyu to pry them apart again as he pushed your skirt up over your hips. — His breath is warm, much warmer than the fire sparking next to you. It makes your skin flare up as it caresses you.

“Please”, he murmurs, the words barely audible as his head drops down between your thighs. “I need to taste you, just once.” — You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but the strange flutter rising in your stomach had become almost impossible to ignore and out of sheer desperation you nod, breathing out a small, “yes.”

Beomgyu doesn’t need to hear it twice. Two of his long fingers slip around the hem of your panties, tugging the garment down your legs, though giving up halfway when his impatience got the better of him. The sound of cotton ripping fills your ears, making you dizzy as he exhales against your bare cunt, nearly panting against it upon eyeing the orange cream that your arousal had built up.

Your eyes fly open when he first licks a stripe along your core, a surprised moan leaving your lips as you peer down at him. Fingers digging into the plush and peachy couch, you swallow, your gaze training on his brown hair as it buries between your legs, longing to reach out and touch him. — The first, almost hesitant taste he’d gotten only seemed to make him spiral even further and you choke on a small gasp as the bridge of his nose presses against your clit, his tongue dwelling deep inside your cunt as his hands grab at your waist, sliding down your thighs.

His eyes flutter in ecstasy, the creamy taste of apricots overwhelming his taste buds as the acidic sensation floods him. He quickly realizes that he needs more, and a lot of it. “W-Wait, wait, Beomgyu–” The tingling feeling bubbling within you felt like it was about to implode on you, it made your thighs tremble and your head spin as you fought to stay somewhat composed.

But it’s like he’s on a different planet, nothing you said mattered when you were so perfectly spread before him, your warm and inviting cunt just waiting for him to completely devour. Your soft whines and silent pleas made his head spin, and he knew he needed more, as much as possible.

Your head tips back when his fingers suddenly slide between your soaked folds, digging into your quivering cunt as he curls them. — “B-Beomgyu..” His name leaves your lips a mere whimper, though you’re not sure what you’re even asking of him. You want to say something, to convey the heat inside of you, the feelings swirling within your chest and the fierce beating of your heart. But the words get caught in your throat, your eyes screwing shut as pleasurable vibrations course through you.

Beomgyu moans at the taste of your release on his tongue, greedily lapping up every single droplet of creamy apricot as he tugs you closer. He doesn’t seem to worry about breathing, and his chest heaves dramatically against the couch cushion, his hips stuttering as he shudders. — The feeling of his tongue against your clit suddenly goes from overwhelming to overbearing, and your thighs clamped around his head as your hands push him back.

“N-No more!” You gasp, your face flushed in all shades orange as you blink fervently. Beomgyu groans when he separates from your cunt, a displeased look flashing across his desire-filled expression. The lower half of his face is coated in a thick layer of something dangerously close to the apricot jam he’d been feasting on for weeks. He blatantly ignores your gawking stare as he wipes the mess from his cheeks, stuffing his fingers into his mouth, his eyes already searching for more as he attempts to spread your legs once more.

You whine, rubbing your thighs together in embarressment, resisting a shiver as his hand runs across your knee and down your calf. “One more”, he says, and though his voice is masked by a layer of determination, you can still decipher the silent plea as his dark eyes search yours. — Biting the inside of your cheek, you shyly avoid his gaze as you let it wander across his body.

With a slightly shaky hand you point to the shirt he’s wearing. “T-Take it off..” You murmur, the small sentence nearly inaudible. The uncharacteristic smirk he’d been wearing since your arrival quickly finds its way back to his lips and Beomgyu complies as he tugs the garment over his head, discarding it on the floor as he turns back to you with a look of expectancy.

Admittedly so, you had been craving a closer look at him since the day you’d first found yourself on his porch. Something about him pulled you in. Perhaps it was the subtle pink flush of his face, one that had intensified right now, making him almost glow. Or it was the soft fuzz that crawled across his skin, it feels ticklish under the tips of your fingers as you trail them along his naked chest. Peach fuzz, you think to yourself with a small smile. — Beomgyu shudders, but bites back another comment as he watches you with dark eyes.

Your attention flickers to his hair, dark and unkempt. His hair left a lot of questions, some which you had spent more time pondering than you’d like to admit. Your hands card through the surprisingly soft locks, giving them a gentle tug and Beomgyu groans, his head immediately falling forward as he wraps an arm around your waist.

He pulls you onto his lap in seconds, making you straddle his hips, ignoring the way you wince as your sensitive cunt makes contact with the rough fabric of his pants. — Your gaze drops to the not so subtle bulge straining against the fabric, your hands tentatively palming him through the material, carefully gauging his reaction.

The strands of his dark hair tickle your neck as he leans forward to press languid kisses along your shoulder. His teeth drag across your skin, and for a moment you thought he might actually try and take a bite out of you. It was like he was trying to merge with you, to envelop you fully, like that was the only way to extinguish the fire burning within.

He helps you with the zipper, swiftly tugging his hard cock from the confinements of his pants, giving it a few deliberate strokes as he directs kisses to your blazing skin. — You can’t help but eye the way his fingers wrap around his shaft, noting the way he presses his thumb against his slit, shuddering against you as he does. Eager to do the same, you reach out. Beomgyu freezes when your hand joins in on top of his, but makes no move to brush you off.

Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of light and pink precum dribbling from his flushed tip, it perfectly matched the flush of his face. Beomgyu chokes on a strained moan when your fingers swipe across his slit, gathering the sticky and sweet substance on your hand as you bring it to the lips. — He tastes sweet, like peaches, ripe and perfectly harvested. You sigh at the euphoric taste, your eyes fluttering as your tongue darts out to lick at the remnants that had spilled down your chin.

Beomgyu’s throbbing cock twitches at the sight and he doesn’t hesitate as yanks you forward. “Don’t do that”, he breathes, “Please. Don’t do that.” It sounds as if he’s using all his willpower to hold back. You didn’t want him to. You wanted to see him just as he was, every last bit of him, you wanted to see it all, to familiarize yourself with everything that was him.

“You taste good”, you say, the compliment coming out a little breathless when he presses the tip of his cock against your overstimulated cunt. “Yeah?” He asks, pushing past the tight rim of muscle as he eases his way inside, bringing you back onto his thighs. “You do too.” — His words barely register in your mind, for it’s far too clogged up on the feeling of him, throbbing and alive, inside of you.

His hands are on your waist again, pulling you forward as he sets you in motion. You gasp at the way he brushes up against every bundle of nerves, soft eyelashes hitting your cheeks as your eyes flutter. — With trembling fingers you reach for his face, you wanted to kiss him again, you wanted it more than anything. In this very moment you felt greedy, selfish almost, your body moving on its own accord as you sought out pleasure.

You had always considered yourself a selfless person, always giving and giving, never expecting anything in return. It felt strange, you had never desired anything the way you desired Beomgyu right now. The feeling scared you. Was this what Kai had warned you about? Should you have listened. — Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you could ever stop now. It was too much, he was everywhere, all at once. Yet there never seemed to be enough.

Your lips crash against his with urgency, somehow the kiss turns out sweet. It’s soft, gentle, caring. Beomgyu hums into your mouth, the taste of peaches and apricots mixing with one another. It tastes sweet, refreshing, and exciting. — Your combined moans echo out into the small cottage, the fire burning alongside your already blazing bodies, intensifying the raw and intimate moment.

Suddenly you know what you’d been longing for all this time, what had been missing in your otherwise mundane but joyful life. Delivering jams wasn’t enough, the warm smiles only eased the loneliness in your heart to an extent. No, this, this was what you needed. Another warm body against yours, someone to devote yourself entirely to, someone who acted without expecting anything in return. You would like to think of Beomgyu that way, even though you know you probably shouldn’t.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect- I..” Beomgyu cuts himself off as he pulls back from the heated kiss. Sweat slides down his forehead and you lean in to press a small peck between his furrowed brows. His jaw slacks as he lets ragged breaths pass his parted lips, his hips jerking up to meet yours. — Large hands slide down the sides of your trembling thighs, running over the curve of your ass as he squeezes the soft flesh there.

“D-Don’t know how much longer…I’m..” You stumble over your words, foreheads pressed against one another as small wordless sounds of pleasure rips from your throat. Beomgyu hums, his fingers creeping up your spine, dark gaze trained to your tits, catching the way your perky nipples strained against the cotton of your blouse. — “Fucking perfect.” He grunts, repeating himself over and over, enjoying the way it sounded on his tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing it in gentle motions. The action makes your teeth latch onto your bottom lip as tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. With a small cry you feel your orgasm course through you, your cunt desperately clenching around his cock, pulling a string of curses from Beomgyu as his head tips back, exposing his flushed neck and bobbing adam's apple.

The peach cream is warm as it sputters from his twitching cock, spreading throughout your belly when he finishes inside of you. It’s unexplainable, the closeness, the intertwinement, you feel almost bound to him in that moment. — His body feels electrifying against yours, the soft fuzz tickling you when he pulls you to his heaving chest.

It feels idyllic, being so close to him. He doesn’t feel at all like the Beomgyu you had acquainted yourself with. This feels raw, it feels real. The weeks you’d spent carefully peeling the layers back had led you here, a place in which you never would’ve even considered finding yourself in. — And when you peer up at him, you find it hard to ever look away. He looks dazed, half a smirk plastered onto his face as his arms tighten around you.

You did not know if this had been a mistake or not, you did not know if you would come to regret this the following day. But right now it felt just right, just perfect. — You wish to stay like this, if just a moment longer.

⸝⸝

You found that Beomgyu liked to sleep in.

As usual, you had woken along with the sun, rising as the first rays cast upon you. Stretching out with a small yawn, you freeze when your feet hit something hard. Cracking a groggy eye open, you find your toes stubbed against the armrest of a peachy couch. Shaking your head as you blink the sleep away, you glance around. — You were in Beomgyu’s living room.

Your gaze falls on the fire, it had since long died out, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Then onto the discarded basket, tipped over on the floor a few paces away. And then to your bright and orange coat, thrown on the cream colored carpet. — At last, you settle on him. Beomgyu lays sprawled out on the sofa, taking up the vast majority of it as he forces you into a compromised position somewhere between its backrest and him.

With a small grunt you ease yourself into a sitting slouch, steadying yourself with a hand on his naked chest. The pink flush had gone down, and he no longer looked as if he were on fire. In fact, he looked almost peaceful like this. Blissfully asleep as he takes slow and steady breaths through his slightly parted lips. His eyes move behind closed eyelids, lashes fluttering, as his nose scrunches.

You reach out before you can even stop yourself, fingers carefully carding through his dark hair. Memories of your previous night together flash before you, replaying themselves in crisp clear quality. You remember his warm hands on you, his fuzzy skin against yours, his lips, the way he tasted, the way he made you feel. — Your body tingles all over at the mere thought.

Mindlessly your hands wander, not stopping until they reach a peculiar little mark on his ribcage. At first glance, it looked nothing out of the ordinary, and you would have probably brushed it off as a birthmark, had it not been for the way Beomgyu flinched when you pressed against it. — He groans, rolling over on his side, now facing you as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him as his face nuzzles against your stomach.

“Too early..” He complains, his voice muffled and laced with sleep as his hands clumsily grab at your hips. Pursing your lips, you reach for the mark once more, pressing the tips of your fingers against it. Beomgyu groans as he attempts to swat your hand away, persistently ignoring your advances until you finally speak up. — “What’s that?”

“Hm?” He raises his head, blinking against the bright sun before his attention shifts to where you’re pointing at. A small scoff passes his lips, his expression morphing into one of recognition and distaste, like you’d just reminded him of something he’d been trying to forget. — “It’s nothing”, he grunts, heaving himself into a sitting position as he stretches. Your eyes trail his figure with far less shame than you would’ve liked to admit. But as they do, you encounter several marks of the same kind.

“Beomgyu, there’s one here too”, you point to the reddish hue on his forearm. How had you not noticed these yesterday? Then again… Your cheeks flush as you recall the events of last night, quickly shaking your head as you try to rid yourself of such thoughts. — Beomgyu huffs, waving a dismissing hand your way as he tries to brush the topic off. “Don’t they hurt?” You quire, pushing the conversation further.

Beomgyu sighs, running a sleepy hand through his disheveled and dark hair. “Yeah, sure”, he mutters but doesn’t seem too bothered by the admission. — “Had them for as long as I can remember”, he then adds with a small shrug, “something about peaches bruising easily.”

You don’t question him on the topic again, he didn’t seem keen on talking about it. And you respected that. Yet you couldn’t help but get lost in thought as your mind pictured the dark spots. Were Kai’s words true? Had Beomgyu himself began rotting?

⸝⸝

You visit Beomgyu the next day, and the day after that, and even the one to come. He doesn't question your sudden appearances. And you no longer have to wait outside his shut front door, for he opens it right away, even if he lets you inside with nothing but a short nod or a small grunt.

The two of you don’t do much. You drink tea, sometimes you eat biscuits with the jam you brought. Other times he allows you to scour his crowded bookshelves, you use him as your own library, picking a book and returning with it a few days later. — Beomgyu will often sit on the couch, you by the warm fireplace as you ramble on about the book, sharing your thoughts excitedly. Often it felt as if you were conversing with yourself, but you knew that he was listening. You could tell by the way his lip twitched, or the way he rolled his thumbs over one another.

Neither of you bring up that night, the night where you had.. It’s buried, buried beneath the small talk. Buried beneath the tea and the biscuits, beneath the silence of just enjoying each other’s presence. — Beomgyu never tells you to leave, but you do so anyway. And though your heart yearned to spend another night in his house, you were not so sure that it was a good idea. You had yet to tell anyone about it, not even Blueberry Kai knew. The secret burdened you, in a way.

Beomgyu never mentioned the bruises again, so you didn’t either. Sometimes you would catch a glimpse of them, when his shirt slid up as he reached for a book on the top shelf, or when he rolled his sleeves up to do the dishes. If he ever caught you staring, he’d make sure to cover himself again. The sight pained you, and you wished there was something you could do. Anything.

When you weren’t at his house, you spent your days researching, as silly as it might sound. In the short span of a week, you had learned everything there was to know about peaches. From their soft and fuzzy outsides to their pink and creamy insides. You read about growing peaches, about harvesting peaches, you read about which seasons they thrive in and which they don’t. — Safe to say you confidently called yourself an expert.

Yet there was one peach you couldn’t quite seem to figure out.

Beomgyu was nothing like the peaches in the books, with the exception of the soft fuzz that coated him and the pink flush of his cheeks whenever he got flustered. And as the night drags on, your tired eyes follow along the written liens on the page before you in a lazy manner. With your head propped on your hand, you stifle yet another yawn as you blink the sleep away.

No, this wouldn’t do. All answers were not in books, and certainly not answers about Beomgyu. With the quick shake of your head, you slam said book shut, and with newfound determination you rise to your feet. — If you couldn’t ask him about it, then you would simply have to work with what you’ve got; and that was a whole bunch of newfound knowledge on peaches.

⸝⸝

The next morning you leave home before the birds wake. With nothing but a short blink of sleep but energy to feed an army, you march down the cobbled road. You don’t have to look for the small pathway that leads off the main street anymore, your feet take you there on your own, allowing your thoughts to wander as you dwell into the thick forest.

Beomgyu’s familiar house makes your chest swell, and your pace quickens as you approach. — The knocks you deliver to his door are sharp, demanding and slightly impatient. With the small click of your tongue, you glance around the silent woods, tapping your foot restlessly against the old porch. A minute or so later, the door glides open, and you’re met with a freshly woken peach.

“Do you know what time it is?” Beomgyu retorts, though his voice lacks its usual bite, he’d stopped using that with you. “It’s almost seven”, you chirp as you brush past him and into his homely living room, having already made yourself more than comfortable within his house. Beomgyu’s protesting groan becomes a faint background noise as you settle the heavy basket you were carrying onto his dining table.

It’s just now that he seems to notice it, his eyes scouring the items stacked inside, neatly concealed with a plaid blanket. — “What’s the meaning of this?” He mutters as he nears you, his chest brushing against your back as he reaches past you to peel the blanket off. You freeze, swallowing a small gulp as you blink a couple of times. Beomgyu had started doing that.. Being so close, you mean. It was as if the matter of personal space didn’t occur in his mind. Not that you minded, however it reminded you of your night together, and that was something you did mind.

“Peaches..!” You chime, trying your hardest not to let on to your flustered state. Beomgyu, on the other hand, goes silent behind you. His warm breaths are slow and steady against the back of your neck as his fingers fiddle with the handle of the basket. “What for?” He asks, his voice gruff and unreadable.

Hesitantly, you reach for one of the smaller bags, holding it up as you show him the tiny seeds inside. “They’re not peaches yet..” You murmur, and you’re thankful that he can’t see your face as it twists in embarrassment. — “I thought we could plant them together”, the proposal comes out a mere whisper, the words getting caught in your throat as you avoid glancing behind you to get his reaction.

Another eerie silence follows.

It drags on for nearly a whole minute before Beomgyu finally shifts behind you. “No.” He firmly states, the abrupt refusal washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. This time you can’t hold yourself back from twisting on the spot, coming face to face with him. — “Why not?” You press, your brows furrowing as you grip the small bag of seeds.

Beomgyu leans forward, restricting the already confined space between the two of you. The back of your thighs press against the dining table, and you find yourself leaning backward when his nose nudges against your own. — “Because I don’t like peaches.” His expression is painted with distaste, as if the word itself spread a bitter taste on his tongue. However, you refused to back down, and with a small huff you shook your head; shoving him back as you grab the basket and head for the smaller door that leads out into his garden.

The fresh morning air is soothing against your burning skin, still tingling where his warm breath had caressed. You take in a deep breath, savoring the cool air as it slips down into your lungs. As you do, you survey the garden. While it wasn’t in horrible condition, it looked like it had been left unattended for the greater part of its existence. Yet you march forward, finding a nice open patch of grass as you sink to your knees.

You rummage through the basket in search of the small shovels you’d brought. Then comes the process of tearing up the ground beneath you. It’s a tedious process, but one that you find to quite enjoy. A familiar sensation of calm and peace washes over you as you work just like you would in your own garden; shoveling the soil into a pile next to you.

The sun is warm against your back as you work, yet its rays don't quite seem to reach the lonesome cottage, for the dark forest surrounding you shuts it out. — Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you find yourself completely engrossed in the task at hand. Much so that the sound of the door being opened and closed passes you by unnoticed.

Beomgyu’s steps are heavy as he slowly approaches your hunched over form. You feel his presence before you see it. The way his gaze tears holes through the back of your neck, dark and piercing eyes locked on your every move. He stops a pace away, maintaining a safe distance, as if the seed itself were to jump up and swallow him whole.

It’s quiet, neither of you saying anything as you let the tense air speak for itself. You can feel him watching you as you shovel more dirt, having made a decent depth to the hole. Briefly, you consider the fact that this might’ve been a mistake, that you had overstepped once and for all, and that this time, he wasn’t just going to brush it off as insistence. — When you reach for the bag of seeds, he suddenly speaks up:

“Why are you doing this?”

You hadn't expected him to ask that. Quite frankly you had expected him to drag you away. To shut his door in your face and tell you to never come back. His question makes you waver, fingers hovering above the opening section of the little bag as you freeze mid-action. Why were you doing this? To say pity felt derogatory, for you didn’t think Beomgyu longed for pity, if anything he repelled it. So what was it?

“Friendship”, you finally say, your hands resuming their work as you shake a few seeds out onto your open palm. “It’s what friends do”, you add as you turn to peer up at him. It was hard to make out his expression, the sun behind him momentarily blinding you. But his scoff is loud and clear, and you catch the way his fingers twitch as he resists the urge to clench them into fists.

He mutters something under his breath, the words inaudible to your ears. Then he crouches down next to you, the action taking you by surprise. A small, almost unnoticeable smirk is tugged across his lips, it's a strange look on him, one you don’t think you’d ever seen. — “Friendship?” He echoes as he glances toward the bag in your hand. You nod, rolling the seeds on the flat of your palm, “Are we not friends?”

Beomgyu pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze trained on something beyond your line of sight as he peers out and ahead. “I don’t know..”, he murmurs, his eyes briefly dropping to his own hands, splayed out in front of him. — “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend.” The admission is followed by the soft flush of his neck and cheeks, the light pink radiating on his skin.

His words make your chest tighten, the corners of your lips falling as your face drops. Never had a friend? You’d always assumed that Peach Beomgyu liked it better that way. Perhaps not, perhaps he was just as lonely as he looked right now. — Placing the bag of seeds down, you reach over, clasping his hand in yours. The small seeds linger within your intertwined palms, enveloped in the warmth simmering between you.

Beomgyu’s brow twitches, his dark eyes lifting as they lock with yours, a silent question lingering within them. — “I can be your first friend”, you smile, even though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. He looks slightly taken aback, like he hadn’t expected for those to be the words to come out of your mouth. His lips part, only for him to close them soon again, silently nodding.

Your heart was practically ablaze.

Only when his hand squeezes around yours do you seem to remember yourself as you shake your head. “Right”, you say as you point to the little hole you had dug, “Let’s plant these!” — Beomgyu seems hesitant at first, his eyes flickering between your intertwined fingers and the soil patch. Still, he reluctantly gives in as he lets you guide your joint hands toward the hole.

You make sure to gently pat the little seeds in, taking a moment to lean back and admire them before motioning for Beomgyu to cover them with dirt. He complies, gingerly scooping some into his palms as he covers the hole back up. Together you flatten it out, your hands bumping into one another as you do. It’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers flare up in pink whenever they touch yours, and you smile at the discovery.

When you’re finally done, you lean back up, placing your hands on your knees as you regard the small patch with pursed lips. “Now we wait”, you huff, realizing that even with the help of Beomgyu it would take a good couple of months before these were even close to being done. To wait and for so long for something was awfully boring.

With a reclined sigh, you begin collecting the tools you’d used, shoving them back into the basket. Beomgyu had gone awfully quiet next to you, quiet even for him. You pay it no mind, far too busy with re-organizing yourself. It’s not until his warm fingers suddenly grasp your chin, his touch feathery light yet scorching hot, that you react.

Your wide eyes barely manage to meet his upon turning your head before his lips press against yours. The sudden kiss takes you by surprise and you blink a couple of times before allowing your shocked eyes to fall shut. — It didn’t feel like it had that night, this was slow, timid almost, and Beomgyu was far more hesitant this time around as his hand went to your waist. It was cute, you thought.

And when he finally pulls back, there’s a warm pink covering the entirety of his face as he clears his throat into his closed fist. “Do..” He begins, quickly trailing off as he avoids your gaze. “I mean, is that something friends do?” — You frown, mouth opening and closing as you think of an answer.

“I don’t…I don’t think so. I think it’s something that more-than-friends do…”, you shyly admit, watching as the color that had just begun fading off of his face resurfaced once more. — Beomgyu grunts, shaking his head once, as if banishing the embarrassment from his mind, his dark hair falling in uneven sections in front of his eyes. “Then..”, he puts on a more stoic expression but you catch the nervous fidget of his fingers as they play with a strand of grass, “Then I want to be ‘more-than-friends’ with you.” — “If…If that’s okay?” He quickly adds, his face falling for a brief moment.

You can only nod, a grin stretching across your lips so wide that the corners of your mouth hurt. “I would like that very much.” — Beomgyu exhales a heavy sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping slightly as he peers at you through dark strands of hair. You awkwardly clear your throat, feeling your own face heat up at the request you were about to make:

“Can you…do that again? The kiss I mean..”

He chuckles, and you think it was the first time you ever heard him even remotely laugh. — “Without a doubt.”

⸝⸝

Things became different with Beomgyu after that. But it was a good different. It was different because he had started coming to you. — It had shocked you at first, when he’d knocked on your door, and you had opened it, expecting anyone but him. Even more so when he’d willingly accompanied you into town. Though he didn’t say much, he still followed along as you browsed the different stands, humming a quiet yes to whatever you found interesting.

People cast glances your way, but he didn’t seem to care for them. And neither did you, for the warm feeling of your hand in his washed away any other thoughts. — He even met Blueberry Kai once, though their first meeting was stiff and beyond tense, you couldn’t help the way your chest swelled at the accomplishment.

Beomgyu was polite, at least when he wanted to be. He stopped to hold the door for others, picked up a lost purse and returned it to its owner, and he carried your basket when it became too heavy. After a while he started accompanying you when you went out to deliver jams, and the faces of others as they opened the door soon grew from shock to recognition as Beomgyu slowly made his way back into society.

Still, you preferred to spend quiet and lazy days at his house. Away from everyone else, just the two of you, basked in a different kind of tranquility. Sharing soft kisses on the couch, long mornings in bed, reading out in the garden, and having tea in the kitchen. — It was a simple life, a life that had been right under your nose all along.

And the peaches soon bloomed, much to everyone’s surprise. The first ripe fruits, hanging off the tree, pink and plump. Beomgyu watches as you reach for one, plucking it from its branch as you turn it in your hands. — “Perfect, no?” You say as you let your fingers glide over the familiar fuzz covering the fruit.

Beomgyu hums as he, too, reaches for one. The shirt he wore rides up his stomach, exposing his flushed skin to you. But there were no bruises this time, they had faded months ago. And none of you questioned it, though you were certain you knew why. — Beomgyu brings the peach to his nose, inhaling its sweet scent as his eyes flutter. A small smile splayed across his face, that was also something different.

Your gaze lingers on his frame just a moment longer, fixated on the dark hair on top of his head. Only… It wasn’t dark, not anymore. — You reach up to card your hand through his soft locks, fingers catching one a strand by the very top. You run it between your thumb and index finger, its peachy color glowing under the sun.

To think that a little bit of love was all someone like him needed to bloom.

It was a funny thought indeed.

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willtheweaver · 10 months ago

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Some locations and structures to include in your forest

Abandoned shrine

Alchemist’s lab

Ancient ruins

Army encampment

Battlefield memorial

Boathouse

Bridge, log

Bridge, stone arch

Bridge, suspension

Bridge, wooden beam

Causeway

Cablin

Cable car station

Cairns- grave markers

Cairns- trail marker

Cave system

Caved-in tunnel

Cemetery

Clearing

Campsite

Castle (robber baron or otherwise)

Collapsed building

Dam

Dirt track

Ditch, defensive

Ditch, henge monument

Dock

Dragon’s lair

Elven settlement

Fairy ring

Farm

Ferry landing

Ford

Fort, earthen

Fort, stone

Fort, wooden

Game trail

Ghost town

Guardhouse

Haunted ruins

Hermit’s hut

Hollow hill

Hunting lodge

Hunter’s hide

Inn

Logging camp

Manor house

Mine

Monastery

Outlaw’s hideout

Overgrown ruins

Potholes

Paved road

Portal

Quarry

Railroad

Rail station

Raised platform

Roadside grave

Sacred grove

Sawmill

Sky burial platform

Signpost

Stone circle

Summoning ring

Switchback

Temple

Tollbooth

Treehouse

Troll cave

Tunnel entrance

Turnpike

Village

Waterwheel

Watchtower, stone

Watchtower, wooden

Witches’ cottage

Wizard’s tower

Zip line

#writing #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing prompts #worldbuilding #writer #writers #writing community #writer on tumblr #writeblr

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writersdrug · 4 months ago

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Training for Two

Chapter 6: Pup Cup

Masterlist

Summary: Simon unexpectedly runs into you... and your friends... and Tyler.

Warnings: dissociation, jealousy

It was finally Saturday - a Saturday where you had cleared your schedule, and so had Leslie and Nina. AND Tyler. Which was maybe once every two months. So, you had made plans to get brunch with the girls, the three of you deciding to dress up a bit and get mimosas. Tyler had promised to swing by around one to take you around the city, then to spend a cozy day at his apartment.

Right now, it was girl time. The three of you had your mimosa pitcher and a shared basket of fries, delving into each other's personal drama.

"And then Marcie asked me to pick up this Saturday - today, mind you - because she forgot the two interns were finished this Thursday. Of course, I told her no, in the most professional way I could - and she had the audacity to say I needed to pick up more slack. Me!!"

Nina scoffed. Your jaw dropped open. "You've been there the longest!"

Leslie nodded. "Longer than her, too! God, I could've let her have it, right then and there-" she sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Of course, I didn't. But I made sure she knew I would not be coming in on my day off, that I had planned for weeks."

You snapped your fingers in applause, making Leslie chuckle. "Bravo to you - we love seeing women fighting women in the workplace."

"Oh, stuff it." She laughed, swatting your hands away. "Feels like an episode of 'The Office,' if you ask me. Just too bloody insane to be real."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of your mimosa. Your eyes wandered down to your purse, hanging from the side of your chair, your phone tucked away within. I wonder what Simon's up to... what does he do on his days off?

"Speaking of women in the workplace..." Leslie turns to Nina, who was scowling at her phone. "Who's got you so irate on a Saturday?"

"Idiots, that's who." She grumbled, furiously punching away at the keyboard on her screen. "It's as if the minute I take a personal vacation, everyone and their grandmother suddenly need a wedding planner." She sighed and tucked her phone back into her purse. "I'm sorry..."

You and Leslie shook your head, reassuring her that it was alright. God forbid she starts falling into the "I work so hard and get nothing in return" schpeel - which would be believable and understandable, if it wasn't for the fact that she played that card every time the three of you were together.

"Did you hear she started dog-sitting?" Leslie said, nodding in your direction.

That snapped Nina out of her own head. "You did? What does that have to do with your design work?"

You huffed. "Well, it doesn't - but, and I told you this, Leslie" - she laughed at your glare - "that I was just looking for a house-sitting gig, like what I did before I left that stupid company. Just until I got a few clients to myself, and could start my own business."

"Busy bee..." Leslie commented, and Nina nodded in agreement.

"Not nearly as you two - remember how hard it was for me and Tyler to have a weekend together? Now I'm the one waiting for him. He's even started coming with me when I take Riley for walks - just to spend more time together."

"How sweet..." Leslie cooed.

"Riley?" Nina asked.

"The dog." You answered. "She's a wonderful dog, really. Used to be military, before her... injury..."

You trailed off, staring at something between Leslie's and Nina's heads. They stared at you in confusion for a moment, until you beamed widely and started waving your hand. They turned to stare at whomever had caught your attention.

Simon wasn't one for "get-togethers," as he heard them called. He was perfectly fine spending his leave at home, only leaving to walk Riley or get his groceries and smokes. He'd occasionally text the team and see what they were up to, but other than that - he had no problem living like a hermit.

Soap was the one to suggest the idea of the team getting lunch together, since they were all nearby for work. Of course, Gaz was never one to turn down a group outing; once he was in, Price had decided they all might as well go. ("Should be a team off the field too, right?")

So that's how Simon had been forced to come out of his cave. And no, it might not seem like he was forced... but it would be rude of him not to go, so therefore, societal standards were forcing him. That, and Soap would bitch about him being a "bawbag" for weeks if he didn't tag along.

He decided to bring Riley with him, since it had been a few weeks since she had seen everyone. She looked around as she panted, walking besides Simon through the mildly-crowded sidewalk. It was a decent Saturday afternoon, with a mix of cloud and sun hanging in the sky. Simon wore his usual jeans and a sweatshirt, along with a black surgical mask.

He needed a head start for the day. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with his team outside of work... but people were exhausting, especially when he was forced into proximity with them. He needed a few hours to himself, in public, just to wake up his social battery. The best way to achieve that? Tea, Riley, and people-watching.

So that's how he found himself, next in line at the coffee counter of a restaraunt he’d been to a few times before. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he held Riley's leash; her head was on a swivel, sniffing the aromas that wafted through the air, and the occasional hand of each person who passed her. Simon was thankful people were wary of his presence - it kept everyone from trying to lean down and pet Riley without his permission.

The customer in front of him moved away from the counter, and Simon stepped forward. The girl behind the cash register smiled at him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"Jus' a tea. Medium, no sugar, no cream."

"Would you like the passionfruit tea or the mint berry mixer? Or our jasmine goddess?"

"... d'you have black tea?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, I'll get your black tea."

Simon huffed as he put his cash on the counter. Don' get why tha's funny...

He watched as she moved - rather sluggishly, he thought. Despite that her makeup did a fantastic job of hiding how tired she must have been, he could see it in her eyes and actions. The way she stood there, shoulders slightly slumped as she watched the hot water pour into Simon's cup, her arms resting heavily against the counter. He looked behind him briefly, noticing how long the line was for the cafe. Not to mention she had dine-in orders to fulfill, too... and she's alone at the coffee bar. He turned back, watching as she fought to make sure the lid was properly secured on his cup. It made him a bit nervous, how she supported nearly all of her weight onto the top. What if it crumples? What if she gets burnt? Is there a burn kit behind the shelf? Probably not-

Riley whined, snapping Simon’s attention away from the barista and down towards her. She licked her lips and stared up at him curiously.

She always knows.

He sighed, patting her flank. "Thanks, girl."

The barista returned with his tea, as well as a small cup of whipped cream with a dog biscuit poking out of it. “For your friend.” She said with a too-tight smile.

Simon stared blankly at the whipped cream cup. "I didn't order tha’.” He said bluntly.

“It’s on the house! Pup cups are free.” She said, nudging the two items towards Simon. “Don’t worry, there’s no added sugars in the whipped cream, and the treat is allergen-free.”

Why does everyone assume dogs have allergies? Simon thought to himself. He glanced at Riley for a brief moment – she looked back at him, certainly not expecting a treat, not yet. She’d hounded him enough for those goddamn biscuits all morning, the ones you’d been spoiling her with, and he had no choice but to follow the routine and gave her one. This created a cycle that sent him to the doggie-daycare once a week to pick up more, since the old woman who made them only sold them there. Without even intending to, most likely, you were taking more from his wallet than he had hired you for. Not that he minded… it was all for Riley, however, he was almost certain he’d buy a fucking parrot if you were the one convincing him.

Riley let out a garbled sound, making Simon realize he was still staring at her. And holding up the line. Shit, socializing was more taxing than he thought…

“Thanks…” he mumbled, grabbing his drink and the cup of whipped cream. He carefully directed himself and Riley through the crowd and over to the condiment shelf, setting both items down and adjusting his grip on Riley’s leash. He still had a few hours to kill; it’s a bit cramped in here, he thought as he grabbed a handful of napkins, eyeing the throng of coffee addicts and beatniks in the cafe, there’s always the bench by the fountain on Muller and 4th street, that might-

The sight of your familiar, perfect, sparkling eyes sucked the air and the thoughts from his body in a matter of a single second. That bright personality speared him like a harpoon as you waved from across the café, beckoning him over with a waggle of your fingers. His mind was trying to catch up after being knocked off of its feet, and he finally inhaled.

You looked equally surprised to see him - but he wasn't paying attention to that. He noticed your eyeliner and lipstick, how it made your features even brighter than they typically were. You'd worn your hair down, which was the first time he'd seen it like this since he hired you. Your nails were painted a soft pink, which accentuated the mimosa glass like an orange sunset across a blush sky... and your dress. Of course, it was bright and floral, just like your personality. But it was soft, too. The way it fitted so nicely around you - not too tight, perfectly settled around your shoulders and hips, making you look delicate. Simon was sure if he was to reach out and touch your arm, it would feel like he'd touched the skin of an angel.

He was too stunned to wave back, still frozen in the one spot by the counter as people flowed around him like river water around a stone. It wasn't until Riley had noticed you too and began whining that Simon finally gathered his bearings and nodded his head at you, stuffing the napkins in his pocket.

Two other heads swiveled around from your table and eyed him curiously, and for a moment, he groaned internally; you were with friends. Not horrible, but... not ideal. He didn't care to talk to anyone other than you at the moment – really, ever. Still, you were here, and that trumped all other factors. His anxieties moved to the sidelines when you were on the other end of the path. He clicked his tongue at Riley and grabbed his tea, carefully weaving through patrons and tables to get to you.

"Simon!" You chirped when he approached; you stood up and on your toes, reaching your arms to give him a side hug. He awkwardly stood there, attempting to hug you back by letting his arm curve around your upper back, careful not to spill his tea. Before he could stop himself, he took a deep, quiet breath in, nearly sighing at the smell of your perfume.

So floral and... sweet. Like the bookstore/plant nursery hybrid that he passes when he walks through town on his way for groceries.

You pulled away, and he straightened up. He was suddenly aware of the other two women staring at him.

"So sorry!" You said, turning to your friends. "Simon- this is Leslie, and Nina."

"’Ello." He said quietly, uninterested, and they each responded with their own "hi's". Leslie looked at him with a scrutinous stare, and he could feel her trying to peel him apart layer by layer. She looked like a corporate junkie, with her tight bun and high heels. Nina... she was... odd. She looked at him with her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes half-lidded... it made him uncomfortable. Both with the way she shamelessly ogled, and with how her eyes seemed to be a few unfortunate centimeters too far apart.

"And this is Riley!" You said, bending down and ruffling the dog’s fur. "How ya been, girl?"

She blinked at you as you pet her, sniffing the air between your face and hers. Her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted, nearly smiling up at you if she could have.

"Ya gone and spoiled her." Simon commented, feeling something warm at the sight of you and Riley. "She wants me to tuck 'er in every day, now. And she's got me runnin' to the dog daycare every week for those bloody biscuits."

Leslie pursed her lips, thinking Simon was being rather rude. You laughed, sitting back down in your seat. "She wasn't spoiled enough, in my opinion. Did she drag you to Poeheko Park yet?"

"She did. Thought I's about to be mugged."

You laughed again. Simon wished he could bottle the sound and keep it in his pocket, so he could pull it out and listen to it over and over whenever he wanted.

"I don't think anyone could mug you, Simon." You said, absentmindedly stroking Riley's fur as she sat next to you.

So you thought he was strong? Invincible? Oh, that did something to him.

"What do you do, Simon?" Leslie asked, sipping her mimosa. "For work?"

Definitely corporate... he thought, from the way her question sounded slightly interrogatory.

"Military." He said bluntly.

Nina's lips curled into a smile; he chose to ignore it.

"Her too?" Leslie pointed at Riley, who sniffed her extended hand.

"She was..." Simon looked down at her, a bit pleased that Riley huffed in distaste at the 'stranger'. "Retired. And a rotten princess now, thanks to you." He turned back to you, his expression lighting up the tiniest bit.

You could sense something - what it was exactly, you couldn't put your finger on it. Simon seemed... tense. Uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't like being thrown into social settings with people he didn't know. You understood it.

"Well-" you said, trying to ignore the way Nina stared at him. "I don't want to interrupt your morning."

"You weren't." He said, still looking at you.

You sent him a glance, and laughed nervously. He continued watching you - God bless anyone who was ever in a staring contest with this man - as Riley sat next to him obediently. Fuck, she was staring at you too...

Leslie looked back and forth between the two of you for a moment, with you blushing furiously, and Simon watching you like you were prey - fortunately, she found an opportunity to come for your rescue.

"Oh, Tyler's here, luv." She said, tilting her head towards the space behind you.

You turned in your seat and smiled, just as a man came up and whisked you out of your chair. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, and he smiled as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Thought you were coming by around one?" You said, pulling back to look at his face.

"I was able to pick up the kit from work earlier than I expected, so I thought I'd come by now." He briefly waved at Leslie and Nina, tucking you into his side. "Sorry girls - lookin' lovely, by the way - but I'm stealin' her a bit early today."

Nina waved her hand dismissively. "We had something planned for tomorrow too; go right ahead." Leslie nodded in agreement.

Tyler smiled. "Perfect. Glad it's not too much of a- woah..."

He turned to look – to really take in the sight of the hulking, brooding man beside you, and he was very visibly taken aback. Simon's soft stare had turned into a cold, unforgiving glare. His eyes were hardened with - something. Maybe anger, maybe authority. He stood rigid and tall, with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, as he bore holes into Tyler's frame.

Simon took him in: soft, brown hair, a slight tan, rough hands, yet soft features. Slight wrinkles around the eyes from smiling too much. A white shirt and jeans, with a plaid – it made sense, now where your stash had come from.

He liked the way that Tyler was a bit intimidated, as evident by the look in his eyes. What he didn't like, was... Tyler. How he held you close. How you let him hold you. And how he himself felt the urge to snatch you from Tyler's grasp and march you out of the cafe.

"Oh, sorry-" your voice brought them both out of their trance. "Tyler, this is Simon. My client."

"Ah!" Tyler smiled, relaxing a bit as he held his hand out. "Nice to meet you!"

Simon grabbed it firmly, making Tyler wince the tiniest bit as he shook his hand. "Likewise." Not in the slightest.

When he released his hand, Tyler bent down to Riley and offered his hand for a sniff. "I know we've met before, girl."

Simon felt something stir in his gut as Riley sniffed Tyler's hand. "Y' have?" He asked, his voice a bit harsh.

"He's never been in your house." You said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. "He just tags along for the walks sometimes. Keeps us company.”

Riley IS the company. Y’ don’t need an extra, luv.

"Mm." Simon said gruffly, looking down at Riley. She was sniffing Tyler's closed fist, then leaning back to stare up at Simon. She huffed in distaste.

He fought the urge to smirk. Good girl.

"What do you do, Simon?" Tyler asked, trying to be friendly.

Nina cleared her throat. He's milita-"

"Special Armed Services." Simon interrupted. "Ten years."

Tyler looked impressed. "Shit- that's tough, mate. Makes sense with how you- y'know..." he gestured to Simon's frame, then dropped his hands and cleared his throat. "Eh, nevermind."

"I's fine." Simon replied, standing a bit taller. "What d'you do?"

"Ah- heh, nothin' that impressive. Electrician."

Simon nodded, though it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. It was hard to completely emasculate a man when he did blue-collar work. And even harder when Tyler seemed to respect Simon. It was one thing to be an asshole to an asshole, but it was another to be an asshole to a decent man.

He had to reign himself in. Tyler was your boyfriend. Why was he trying to show the poor lad up after knowing him all for a minute and a half?

"Well, erm..." Leslie cut in. "Looks like you two need to get going, and we're nearly finished here." She smiled at Simon. "It was lovely meeting you!"

"Yeah mate!" Tyler said. "Nice to finally meet you!"

Simon paused for a moment. Normally, he would love to be ripped out of a conversation like this - but now, he'd suffer through the company of a few, annoying strangers if it meant he got to talk to you. But, he obliged, sensing that Leslie wanted him gone for a reason.

"Yeah, likewise." He said, giving Riley a pat, then he looked at you. "Might need you t' watch 'er soon, but I'll email you."

"I'll keep an eye out for it." You said with a flashy smile. "See you later, Simon!"

He grunted and nodded his head, then left them all at the table. Riley stayed dutifully by his side as they made their way through the crowd of cafe patrons.

Simon tried to smell your perfume for as long as it would cling to his shirt. Soon, the scents of coffee, sugar, and teas washed it out, and the lingering warmth your scent brought him had also vanished. The bitterness came right back into his throat, coating his tongue and making him grimace under his mask and his fists clench in his pockets.

Tyler seemed like a good man, and you were happy. He had no business feeling so possessive over something that wasn't his - something that belonged to someone else. He felt like he was missing a screw - his emotions were completely out of control, and he acted compulsively when it came to you. He told himself, as he walked out of the cafe and into the busy sidewalk, that the disappointment of discovering that you were Tyler's would be a good opportunity to work on himself.

He sighed, continuing down the path to the pub. Riley huffed as she trotted next to him, and he suddenly remembered the cup of whipped cream and the dog treat – most likely still abandoned on the condiment counter of the restaurant. “Don’ worry, girl, you can have some’f Johnny’s chips.”

Next ->

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod fanfiction #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod x reader

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sansuri · 7 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Arranged marriage | gojo x indifferent!wife | MDNI

WARNINGS: 1.3k, you guys have a child together, reader is wearing a sundress, subtle suggestive thoughts, infidelity

Synopsis: Gojo’s little family takes a trip to the beach collecting sea glass. Maybe this time, Gojo might finally get that kiss he’s wanted?

Prev: His Wife

—————————————————————————————

“Satoru, bend down for me.”

Gojo looks at you, a bit of surprise is laced over his face as he bends down to your level, waiting curiously of what you were going to do. You softly move a piece of stray hair out of his face, smoothing out the flyways of his hair, a result of the ocean wind riling it up. A soft crimson tints his handsome face and ears.

God, did he feel like the biggest asshole for this whole predicament. You didn’t deserve any of what he was doing, even if you weren’t aware of the greatest sin he was committing, yet here you were, innocently standing there, oblivious to all the wrongdoings he had done, especially to you as your husband.

Did you know that just days earlier, he was fucking the maid in the room next to yours? “Fuck,” he cursed himself under his breath. He really was a dick in this marriage. You were nothing but a perfect wife for him, yet Gojo was anything but perfect for you.

“There,” you say softly, taking a step back to gaze at the appearance of your husband. It was quite a shame that his handsome face was ruined by his brash behavior. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have been so hard to like.

Your focus is shifted back to your child, who happily babbles at the feeling of sand between his toes, picking up shells as he stomps happily within the puddles of the tide pools. Your baby was a perfect mixture of you and Gojo, taking on your husband’s playful nature, while also having your kindhearted and quiet nature.

Although you paid no mind to your husband watching you from afar, the sight of you made him feel warm within his chest, a fluttering sensation at the sight of your look today. He grew to adore the sight of his family, especially you, yet you continued to have no interest in him but your shared child.

Nonetheless, Gojo had to admit that you were quite the scene at the beach. Your sundress fit on your curves beautifully, flowing gently in the ocean breeze as it hugged around your bosom elegantly, making any sane man grovel at the sight.

Gojo smoothly wraps an arm around your waist as you follow your child, noticing the way your body tenses at his touch. The white haired man is an observant husband of course, noticing just how your body reacts to his touch, even when in bed. However, he pouts silently at your reaction, lingering his hand on your waist, in hopes of still being physically connected with you somehow.

Your child distracts Gojo with a hermit crab, picking it up and gurgling as he shows both you and Satoru the crab crawling on his chubby hand. You silently gasp, smiling as the sweet boy gently places the hermit crab down, tugging at his father’s sleeve to show his dad where he put the tiny crab back. Satoru grins at his son, “yeah?” He says in his husky voice, one that has women crawling at his feet, but you seemed to have been an exception.

“Why don’t you go find a pretty sea glass for your mom next?” He chuckles softly, nudging his son to send him off on his next adventure. His son nods excitedly, already tottering to his next mission. You eye Satoru, that look of “really?” on your face as your son wobbles off further in front of you, adamantly glaring at the sand in hopes of finding that pretty sea glass you seemed to adore more than your husband.

Gojo smirks, nodding as he watches his son trail in front of him. “I want some alone time with my wife.” He says nonchalantly, a smile still on his face, pulling you closer by the waist, leaning forward to place a kiss on your pretty lips, but yet again, you turn your face quite casually, his incoming kiss landing on the corner of your lips instead.

A look of sadness, masked by a half-hearted smile appears on his face. He nudges his face in your neck, sighing softly at your avoidance.

“You make this so hard sweetheart.” He breathes softly on your neck, sounding desperate, nipping at the tenderness of your skin there. Your breath hitches subtly, one that Gojo relishes in silently. What would you look like if you let him mark you up there? Would you release those pretty little sighs and whines? You allowed him to mark you in the lower region between your thighs, but why not up? He wanted a way to show that your intimacy was of existence even after the moment, one that even your thin sundress couldn’t cover.

Even so, you ignored his comment, placing your hands on his chest as a way of distancing yourself from him. “Behave.” You tell him with a gentle sternness in your voice, clearly trying to avoid the affections of your husband. The women on the beach otherwise find the scene to be of a loving husband and wife, admiring the sweetness of your husband. You and Satoru were far from lovers, well one-sided lovers at least.

Just then, your son tugs on the chiffon of your dress, his small hand lifting a single piece of worn down glass from the waves of the sea. You marvel at the piece of white sea glass in his hand. There may have been an abundance of sea glass on the beach, but this was one that your precious child had found. One that you would treasure as a memory piece.

“Awe, Naoki.” You bent down to the level of your son. “I love it.” You pet the fluffy hair of your son, placing a motherly kiss on his cheek, one that he relishes in happily, giggling.

Gojo watches the sight unfold, wishing silently that you were open to giving him kisses as you were to your son. He watches in silent envy, ruffling the head of his son, a smile of “good job” on his father’s face.

Naoki continues to pick sea glass, kneeling down in the sand to carefully seek for anything buffed and smoothed by the sea. You remain watching, crouching down to fetch a shell that caught your sight. While you were distracted, Naoki tugs on his father’s pants. Satoru was enamored, watching your figure marvel at the sight of the newfound shell, eyes widening at the tug of his son, quickly turning his attention to the toddler’s hand that held a piece of pink sea glass.

His son places the pink piece of glass in his hand, gesturing towards his mother, who remained fixed on the shell. Gojo instantly connected the dots, understanding that his son wanted him to bring it to his mother. He smiles affectionately, ruffling the head of his son again. What a smart boy.

Gojo, almost too excitedly, closes the distance between you two, waiting patiently for you to notice that he was holding something for you. Attentive as you are, you stand back up, looking curiously at your husband’s puppyish look.

He opens the palm of his hand, revealing the pink sea glass. Your eyes widen ever so subtly, your hand reaching to lift the piece up to the skyline to admire its color. “Pink sea glass is rare to come by.” There’s a soft smile on your face, one that Gojo can’t help but reciprocate the same genuine smile back.

“Do I get a kiss now?” He asks innocently, a genuine tone lacing his voice, asking silently in fear of being rejected.

Your eyes have a subtle hesitance, quickly recovering as you place the sea glass in the tiny baggie of yours, complying and gently grabbing your husband’s face, which he happily envelops your waist with his hands, leaning closer to make easy access for you. You gently place a chaste kiss on his lips, to which he hums softly into, relishing in the feel of your soft and gentle lips. Your touch was addicting, and Gojo could only hope for this to happen more often. Would you some day eventually kiss him everyday like you meant it? Genuinely? Like true husband and wife?

“Thank you.” You say quietly, almost afraid of disturbing your initial peace.

Even after separating, Gojo can’t seem to have enough of you, and there’s a clear look of lust on his face. God, was he so far deep in this.

“Of course sweetheart.” He lifts your face once more, placing another gentle kiss on your soft lips.

And this time, you let him. Just this once.

#sansuri writes | indifferent #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo soft #gojo comfort #gojo x y/n #unrequited love

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zhongrin · 4 months ago

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spending your weekend with...

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, jing yuan, blade

✼ tags ┈ fluff, established relationship, more fluff, your honor they’re all so whipped it’s cringe /silly

✼ a/n ┈ she lives!!! and oop, off she goes back into hermit mode after posting-

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

... the husband of all husbands, zhongli ー your feet walking along the familiar path of nature's trails and having picnics between the green-yellow grass of liyue’s vast fields. pretend you don't see a familiar shade of seafoam-tinged feathers flying past into the dense leaves of the trees adjacent to the one you take refuge under. maybe one of these days, the yaksha will finally accept your invitation to have a family dinner in your abode.

delving into the harbor's market, buying groceries and getting sidetracked by knickknacks. too many times, you've let the mora in your pouches pass across the merchant's for yet another antique teapot or an accessory you can never seem to have enough of. perhaps a dragon's hoarding nature is contagious to its partner? either way, you never fail to finish up at night with tea served in delicate glazed earthenware, brewed by your husband's expert hands. and if those same hands decide to spoil you further as you both cuddle in your nest-bed, even better, no?

... your al haitham, who, on rare occasions, would have a junior akademiya scholar approach him while you were out, in hope to acquaint themselves with the former acting grand sage. he's always quick to shut them down, the bluntness of his words deterring the situation to progress further. you think you see him smirk when the poor lad scurries away, but as he returns towards your side, his hand finds home around yours and all is forgotten.

a café isn't exactly a place he would choose to frequent on a crowded weekend. but the coffee's good, and you seem content as you chatter across the table. while it's scientifically impossible and irrational, there's just something in your voice that seems to create a vacuum bubble that allows him to focus on your endearing rambles. he listens, and he thinks he should record you talking, just so he can play them in his soundproofing headphones whenever.

... the one and only duke in fontaine, wriothesley, who follows you around like a loyal guard dog. it's probably thanks to you that he's not growing shrooms on his fur jacket from all the time he spent down in the damp fortress underwater. you take him shopping, persuade him to try out coffee, sample some foods that isn’t wolsey’s cooking… and if you so happen to bump into your friends, you're both usually always more than happy to adjust your schedule ー a sudden tabletop game session with clorinde and forcing persuading neuvillette to perform dereliction of his duties for a moment to relax are a few examples.

but above all, his favorite has to be bringing some snacks to sit down under a tree with you, watching fontainian poodles frolic around the dog park. maybe one day you'll have a puppy of your own, but for now, your beloved is ‘content with just you’, he says with a cheeky grin.

... your dozing general-arbiter whose brain seems to only want sleep and cuddles whenever the week starts to wind down. waking up to jing yuan who’s akin to a very sleepy big cat draped over your body using you as a pillow is how you would always start your weekend, and it's only at these peaceful moments that the man turns into a heavy sleeper. had he been a real lion, you think he might be purring up a storm as he snoozes, pillowed shamelessly against your chest.

your lover prefers a slow, lazy day with you whenever he has the rare time to take himself out of his duties, and naturally his free weekends are included in this. maybe start with a morning cuddle (in bed), a nap (in bed), both of you cooking lunch (in the kitchen), another nap (maybe on the recliner sofa because why not), a leisure night walk around aurum alley, and a night cuddle (yes. again. in bed)? hmm. yes, that sounds perfect.

... blade, who doesn't exactly have 'weekends', per se. chances are, he doesn't even know what day today is. plus, there's no guarantee that you were with him if he's away on a mission, anyway. but when you were around? you have his full (nonverbal) permission to drag him wherever and to do whatever you want.

you want to travel to the nearest planet for a bottle of soulglad when everyone else is asleep? pick a ship, he'll steer. you want to have a spa day and pamper yourselves senseless, braid his hair while you both have an overpriced face masks on? a useless act for him, especially considering his circumstances, but he'll massage your head if you give him enough puppy eyes. you just want to rot in bed and contemplate your existence? as long as you let him lay his head on your chest so he can hear your heartbeat, he’s good. either this man does not realize how much you have him wrapped around your finger, or he just does not care. it’s probably the latter.

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer ! @euniveve ! @centralballad

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #hsr x reader #zhongli x reader #al haitham x reader #wriothesley x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #jing yuan #blade #zhongli #al haitham #wriothesley #honkai star rail #genshin impact #rin writes

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skreej · 2 years ago

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i'm bored so here's a video of one of my hermit crabs from a while ago :)

#hermit crabs #hermies #sorry for the background noise #i just think he's cute #ignore how it's filmed on a trail cam i'm not hunting them i swear

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nerdyenby · 2 months ago

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Underrated life series cast moments that have been living in my brain the past few days (I’m like two months behind on vods shhh)

Ren saying someone “assassinated my ass” in a pg hermits and friends among us lobby and no one reacting or even seeming to notice

Jimmy casually (accidentally??) calling Martyn “love” in WL ep1

“None of this is making any soup” becoming a running joke in the GIGS pico park 2 stream after Impulse’s complaining about the lack of sense trailed off into an oops

Joel making multiple ccs stand around for close to a minute while he passive aggressively counts at minecraft obsidian and Gem not allowing anyone to leave because if she has to deal with this then so do they

#mcyt #trafficblr #rendog #jimmy solidarity #martyn inthelittlewood #impulsesv #joel smallishbeans #geminitay

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cloudychoso · 2 months ago

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dreams, gojo satoru ➢ gojo satoru x f!reader ➢ breeding kink, creampie, references somno

It's like a dream. You feel like you’re watching the world through a thick layer of vaseline as you float atop your silken sheets. It’s a haze of white and blue around you; the shadows that hide in every crevice of your room melt away under that bright blue. It rings familiar, and your brain tickles to recall from where, but the softness around you wisps you from that answer.

The touch is feather-light on your skin. Bare. Did you fall asleep bare? Your eyes flutter as butterflies kiss down your stomach, and mixtures of eyelashes and hair graze every curve. There’s something delicious in the underwater den you look at the world through. Every wall curls inward, and the curtains sway. You reach out to feel it against your skin, only to be caught by a firm grip.

Hands. Veiny and decorated with a golden ring and scars along the knuckles. It’s like an anchor halting your dream state as you deliriously stare at the hand that holds your wrist. So confident in its grip, yet the touch is softer than your pillows. Like you may break, like you’ll disappear. Maybe you will. The magical glaze that coats your mind slowly shrinks away as someone kisses just above your belly button with a muffled whimper.

How long has it been since you accidentally fell into the dream state? You groan. Shouldn’t your control be better than this by now? You’re far from the ten-year-old still trying to learn why they disappear into someone’s mind every night. Whoever is on top of you repeats your groan back as if it were one of pleasure, and you let your held hand fall limp to the touch. The weight on top of you, complete with soft, fluffy white hairs that ring that same bell of familiarity in your mind, shifts as the lips trail lower.

What could possibly be the intent of this dream? Do you play along or pretend to still be coated in a thick layer of sleep? Your stomach flutters as eyelashes graze down, and a hand squeezes under your thigh as it’s lifted to curl over your hips. The hand still held in the air drops away to stroke at your waist, and you slowly lower your palm until it finds the soft locks. They easily part for your fingers as you comb through, and your nails scratch the scalp as lightly as you can manage, but the person above you whines in bliss. You can feel their erection press to your bare body, thankfully shielded by what feels like their pants.

Blue eyes look up at you with a grin like that of a fox, and your body stills. Gojo Satoru has pulled you into his dream — his dream about you if your bedroom setting makes any sense. You glance away from him so he can’t catch the jolt your body made, only to notice a picture frame on the bedside table. Your heart thumps as you see the wedding robes you each wear. “Finally awake?” he moves up and leans into your neck, soft hair kissing your face as his lips gently press to the lobe of your ear. The cold of his ring at your waist is all you can think about despite how he slowly presses himself against your slick cunt. “Didn’t ya wanna wait for me to get home?”

How to play it… you have no clue what little fantasy Gojo must have of you, but it must be domestic. Your own wedding band weighs heavy on your finger, and you can’t help but glance at it as you place your hands on the back of his neck, playing with the growing undercut. “Tried to stay up,” it’s dark outside, but there's no clock in the room that could help you with whatever answer his subconscious seeks. He smiles into your neck; you can feel his blindfold tickle your chest as his glowing eyes illuminate the room around you. There are more photos — baby photos. You want to scream at the information he is inadvertently giving you, “‘s not my fault you got home so late.”

Gojo laughs, and it reverberates into your skin, and the hand on your thigh slides down toward your pussy. How are you going to face him in the morning? Maybe you should become a hermit and live in the woods? You can’t help the flutter of your eyes as his finger runs up your slit, dragging slick eagerness to your clit. “I know, baby,” he seems to whine into your neck, just feeling how wet you are, his hips rutting into your thigh for friction. Your hand slides down his curved spine, eliciting a shiver through him that makes you smile, and his face lifts from the crook of your neck. His thumb circles around your clit without properly touching, eyes gazing so lovingly at you that your heart stammers in the repeated beats. “At least you had my favourite girl all wet and ready for me.”

You cringe at how he refers to your cunt, but it only makes him laugh before leaning in to capture you in a kiss of raw warmth and devotion. You kiss back as best you can, heart still thumping at the revelations of his desires, and ignore how unabashedly nervous you feel. It reminds you of the first time you awoke in someone’s dream, barely nine, and just trying to survive the nightmare of being hunted by a clown. There’s no promise of death in this dream, and you’re far better at your control now that you’ve learnt how to use the power, but you can’t help that familiar twinge of danger from creeping up your spine. Gojo won’t be able to know you were here, but can you sit with him at breakfast and listen to him talk about whatever bullshit mission he has to go on without remembering this?

Morals aside and over a decade of friendship ignored, you lose yourself in the taste of his mouth. Twinges of strawberry mochi and caramel-flavoured coffee linger on his tongue, yet it feels so right — so purely Gojo Satoru. You pull yourself closer, arms tangling around his neck and your thighs hooking on his hips. The finger that circled your clit falls away in favour of holding you flush against him, squeezing when his lips muffle your moan. You’ve never tasted something so sweet, so intoxicating, as the kiss of your best friend.

When he tries to pull back with echoes of laughter, you greedily pull him back and steal another candy kiss from him. Your tongue passes over his as you pull on his hair with urgency, and the pair of you groan into the other’s kiss. “You-“ kiss, far shorter than the last but just as needy, “really,” his laughter makes you pull him back for another peck. His taste, his touch, his unabashed love, is a craving you doubt ever getting over. You’re certain that it would only taste sweeter in reality, “really,” one last kiss, “missed me!”

The slightest hint of embarrassment washes you in guilt while Gojo laughs, whispering about how cute you’re being. If only he knows that you’re just newly addicted to him, to the secret he has kept from you for however long. If only you could ask questions, but you know that he would get suspicious of this dream state if you did. “Of course I did! You know I hate when you do missions alone.”

His fox-like smile returns, almost out of place with his pink cheeks. Your Gojo, the real one outside of the dream world, has always been a fiend for any type of praise and care; you shouldn’t be surprised that this dream version of him is the same. “Baby, I’m the strongest! Ya know I can handle it! And it only took me a couple days!”

Shit. You refuse to break even a sweat as you keep your same expression of mock disdain. “Not fast enough. How am I meant to live without my darling husband with me?”

Gojo laughs again, his eyes sparkling as they take over your naked form once again, stopping at your lips for just a brief moment longer. “This is why Shoko says you’re turning into me,” you glance back over to the baby pictures near the dresser. A son with eyes like his and hair like yours, dressed in his father’s blindfold that’s far too big on his head. You take the knowledge and grumble aloud about being outnumbered in this house, hoping to diffuse any confusion Gojo may have. You can’t fail now; if you don’t fulfil his dream, then his week is practically ruined by the short dream-induced coma it’ll cause. “If you feel outnumbered, we can always make a mini-you this time.”

One second passes — you take that time to freak out over the insinuation that Gojo barely hides in his smirk. You’ve been aware that you’re naked the entire time, and yet it never felt quite as real until now. His erection twitches in his pants, and you can’t help but shiver. The subsequent second passes, and you return to the character you fulfil, running a finger up and down his neck as you lean up to his lips. “Let’s see if you can, Gojo.”

With the shiver that runs through him, he can’t help but whine about the use of the family name. You don’t retort beyond a few giggles, too busy staring at how he strips himself of his pants and shirt with clumsy haste. He manages to only stumble over his feet once as he rips the pants from his insanely long legs, yet you still stare at him like a hungry wolf hunting prey. Is it wrong how bad you want this? No, you rationalise that this is his dream, so he is the one who wants to have sex with you! Not the other way around!

(though if the offer presents itself in reality, you’re not going to be turning it down by any means)

“C’mere,” when he climbs back on top of you, you force him to come closer with a tantalising curl of your finger. One hand finds its rightful place at your hip again, thumb rolling over a bullet wound scar you got a few years ago. The other knots itself in your open hand, fingers lacing together in a gesture more romantic than you thought Gojo could do, “finish what you started.”

He leans his body, and you feel the naked cock slap against your cunt. You shouldn’t be so wet, even if you joined the dream late and he already spent time playing with you. You just shouldn’t be so slick with need that you squelch just when his tip rubs against you. You squeeze his hand with a gasp, already imagining how he would feel snug inside your walls and pounding over and over until you get that little you he promised. “Fuck — really did miss me, didn’t ya? I barely even used two fingers before and look at this!” He shines as if you were some new discovery he made, and yet you hold no temperament outside of desire and craving for the man on top of you. ”Might hafta take longer trips so you get more desperate,” you roll your hips into him, causing his head to press against your clit.

The jolt of pleasure makes you moan, and your back arches as though little occurred. It feels like you’ve been on the edge of this promised fate for eternity now, the taste on his tongue still haunting your lips as your eyes close to the world around you. “Shuddup,” you mumble, though the words feel empty of animosity or threat as soon as they leave your lips. You squeeze your hand in his, the cold of his wedding ring an exhilarating sensation that only makes you wonder how it must have felt when he was fingering you before you were pulled in. “I’ll go on the missions, so you get desperate. You’ll last maybe ten minutes?”

The sentence is broken by your heavy breathing as his cock lines up with you. Just the slightest touch of it already has you stretching in anticipation, a thigh coiling over his hips to help with placement. The anticipation already has you keeling in pleasure, eagerly awaiting the pleasurable sting of being stretched out. How far will he get? From how long he felt against you… your body shivers at the thought of him entirely inside you. “Why do you get to go on missions?” he pouts without any sadness or pity, and the glimmer of excitement in his eyes sells out his dramatics with ease.

You take the initiative and start pushing your hips down his shaft. Like when you first awoke in the dream, everything feels light and is hidden with a haze of delight. If you didn’t already know this is a dream, you’d be convinced it turned into one with how good he feels slowly filling you up. Each vein throbs against your walls, and he hisses with clouded eyes. “Cause,” you remind yourself to breathe as he gets deeper, the lull of your tongue feels too big and you try to focus on not mindlessly babbling beneath him, “‘m a Gojo, now. Re-Remember?”

It likely turned into some form of gibberish by the final few words, but nonetheless, above you, Gojo pauses. You feel how he twitches inside of you, hear how your pussy pulls him in with a shlick, but nothing tops the way his lips form a pretty ‘o’ shape as he moans into the room. Everyone and their mothers know that Gojo is a moaner in bed, but it feels so different actually seeing it and hearing how fucking delicious it sounds. You reach up and pull his lips to you for another heated kiss, already swiping your tongue at his lips.

He wastes no time and bottoms out, and you gasp into the kiss at how full you feel. Gojo throbs with every noise you utter, and just the tiniest movement of your hips has him moaning even louder. You relish how he reacts to your body, how he sings a cacophony of whimpers and grunts just for you to hear, and the soft way he squeezes your hand with reassurance. Just having his fingers between yours has your heart fluttering even when it feels like you’ve been stuffed so full your organs squish.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” his kiss turns sloppy as he mutters the word repeatedly as if he is convincing himself that your words are real. Your toes curl when he starts to thrust, pounding himself nice and deep inside of you as he continues his babbling monologue of reassurance. You mewl below him, clawing at the muscles in his back that flex beneath your fingertips. “All mine. My pretty, pretty wife,” his lips slot at your jaw with a gentle bite, and your eyes roll back when it’s combined with another thrust against you.

Tears build in the corner of your eyes as the headboard slams against the wall like a drumming melody. He has to be in your stomach by now; you’re certain he somehow found a way to fill your throat, too. The haze in his eyes only grows foggier when he notices the tears as they fall. “Satoru,” you whimper quietly while pushing yourself to meet every movement of his hips, even when his hand tries to move you faster.

His name becomes your chant as he fucks you into the mattress, responding only with reminders of the marriage he dreamed up. You lose yourself in the way his hips bruise you and the way he treats your hand like it’s glass on the verge of shattering. Every instinct in your mind goes haywire as your tongue babbles nonsensical words of pleasure. He returns to your neck, biting and kissing areas you didn’t even know were so sensitive. There would be no evidence come morning, when you both wake up from the dream, but you let yourself think that little marks will bless you in the mirror when you have a shower.

When he shifts your thigh higher, you don’t expect him to hang it over his shoulder, but you don’t question his choice — instead revelling in the new angle he takes. Your nails dig into his knuckles as you cry out for more. Tears fall to the pillows beneath your head, slick drools over his cock and under your ass. “My wife,” he mutters into your ear again, placing your other thigh over his shoulder to match. Only when he leans in and arches you do you realise that he puts you into a mating press. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but you’re already clawing at his back and screaming yes, “gotta fill you again. Looked so pretty when you were pregnant. Gonna have so many more. Let me fill ya up, please!”

He’s bordering pathetic with how he begs, and yet you only grow needier. His hair sticks to him from sweat, and his lips are puffy from kisses; those big, beautiful eyes fill with watery tears as he pleads for you. “Fuck, yes! Please, Satoru!” Your thighs tremble under his touch. Your hand desperately grips his as you babble your answer over and over again. You need him like never before, crave to be filled with all of him, and still lick at the sweetness left on your lips. “Wan’ it!”

His thumb goes under your thigh to play with your clit again. Like before, he doesn’t directly touch it, only circling closer and closer until he reverses each action. It leaves you a perfect victim to the strings of your body — apparently, only Gojo can play it like this. He whispers about all the love he has for you, even with the slurred speech of lust, your heart melts at every proclamation he gives to you. “So glad you chose me. Never gonna have you regrettin’ it.”

Gojo thimbles about how he can’t wait to have another child, a daughter, this time so that he can be the perfect girl dad he was made for. You clench around his cock and moan as the throbbing refuses to cease, each vein detailed as they press into your snug walls. Whether the dream has finally reached your own subconscious or it just unlocks the path to old feelings you refuse to acknowledge, you aren’t sure, but you’re utterly putty in your hands when he tells you to cum and remind him why he missed you so much. And you aren’t one to deny Gojo Satoru what he wants; that’s how you managed so many years of friendship together in the first place.

Your body shudders in his tight hold, eyes shut, and nose hidden in the hair you need to touch one last time. It’s like a flood of emotions wash over you as you release all over him, slick sliding to pool on the bed. He only moves faster as you meek with sensitivity, chasing that feeling for himself until he finally fulfils his promise and cums. It fills you and leaves a thick ring of white around his cock, though instead of pulling out, he keeps his cock warm inside of you, fingers collecting anything that spills to push back in.

When you wake up, Gojo isn’t on top of you with his cock in your overfilled pussy. There aren’t marks on your neck or bruises on your hips. Your finger is empty of a wedding band, and your lips aren’t puffy from being kissed raw. Like nothing happened. You sigh and splash more water on your face, ignoring how the bathroom door peeks open. “What’s up, Gojo?”

“You didn’t… do anything last night, right?” He looks back and forth while refusing to gaze at you properly; his sunglasses don’t work to hide those movements as well as his blindfold. You raise an eyebrow at him and start patting your skin dry, and you keep eye contact with him purely to avoid staring at his chest and how good it felt up against you. “Had a good dream, is all. Won a lifetime supply of mochi.”

The lie makes you smile, not even bothering to tease him over the blush on his cheeks. “Sounds like a really good dream.”

i don’t like this i don’t think 🍆🤓

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