#I love this space so much and I'm so grateful for not feeling alone on this

[dipyou-inhoney]

-

[the-boy-meets-evil]

all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind. 

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around. 

Not this year. 

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it. 

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same. 

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year. 

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy. 

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks. 

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.” 

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown. 

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?” 

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist. 

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately. 

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine. 

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere. 

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects. 

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists. 

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen. 

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks. 

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,” 

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.” 

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists. 

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder. 

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.” 

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.” 

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone. 

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be. 

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer. 

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree. 

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge. 

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks. 

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply. 

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.” 

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises. 

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.” 

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead. 

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker. 

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on. 

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.” 

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused. 

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says. 

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you. 

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t. 

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly. 

“I wasn’t going to say that.” 

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.” 

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share. 

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.” 

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks.  Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.” 

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.” 

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.” 

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?” 

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.” 

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area. 

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.” 

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.” 

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing. 

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says. 

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation. 

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” 

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time. 

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins. 

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well. 

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response. 

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him. 

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree. 

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?” 

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away. 

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.” 

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him. 

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right. 

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin. 

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him. 

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss. 

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine. 

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.” 

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.” 

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.” 

“Good,” he says. 

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture. 

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg. 

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans. 

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?” 

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive. 

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.” 

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath. 

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out. 

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.” 

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest. 

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body. 

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down. 

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment. 

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little 

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters. 

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him. 

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.” 

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say. 

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him. 

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. 

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out. 

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream. 

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans. 

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans. 

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him. 

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out. 

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers. 

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care. 

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty. 

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question. 

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says. 

“We’re already here,” you point out. 

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back. 

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder. 

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.” 

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded. 

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says. 

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. 

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up. 

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles. 

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says. 

“And?” you prompt. 

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke. 

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him. 

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe. 

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says. 

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say. 

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you. 

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say. 

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke. 

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos. 

“Me too,” you agree. 

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace. 

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

[sxcret-garden]

NCT Dream getting pussy drunk [M]

ღ NCT Dream all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut reaction ღ warnings: none

Author’s note: idk, i just had this idea last night and it had to get out askldöfjkdas

Mark:

doesn't get pussy drunk all the time, but when he does, it happens quickly

it's more likely when he's actually drunk

like that one time you're sitting on his face, your front facing his body, and the second he dips his tongue into you you can see the bulge in his pants growing

a few more licks and this guy is almost fully hard, that's how much it affects him sometimes

has his hands all over you as far as he can reach - like he just got that much more needy

hums at your taste and could cum from that alone, while he's desperate to figure out where to best hold onto you

has you falling apart on top of him eventually, and will get even more eager with his face still burried in your pussy if you start getting him off too

he's whining at all the sensations coursing through his body now, and you bet this guy is gonna cum within a minute

but even then he still needs to taste you, so you can be sure he won't be satisfied until he's made you cum a few more times

Renjun:

doesn't get pussy drunk easily, so when it happens for the first time he's so embarrassed afterwards???

like he does not know how to process the way he acted when he felt this carnal need to taste you more overtake him and cloud his mind

does everything in his might for just one more lick, and if you're feeling playful this might just be the best chance you could get to make him beg

he seems like a completely different person all of a sudden, grabbing onto you desperately and wanting nothing more than to bury his head between your legs

pure ecstasy running through his veins when he feels you clench around his tongue, almost crushing him in between your thighs when your high crashes down on you

he can't think straight at this point, all he knows is he needs more, and he needs it now

Jeno:

he just will not let you go when he gets pussy drunk, whether you're lying beneath him or are on top of him, riding his face

this guy holds you close with all his strength because he might just get addicted to the way it feels when you cum on his tongue

and maybe you should be grateful at this point that he doesn't get pussy drunk all that often, because you're in for an intense ride

loves the power he has over you when he overstimulates you, and will only give you space to breathe when it's apparent it's getting too much for you to handle

otherwise he'll just keep going, his tongue greedily fucking one orgasm after the other out of you until you're nothing but a whiny, shaking mess

though once it dawns on him what kind of state he just put you in, he'll suddenly become very soft, and he'll make sure to give you all the aftercare you could ever want

Haechan:

gets pussy drunk so easily, it happens almost every time he eats you out

like this guy just can't get enough of you, and there's just something about him having his face buried between your legs and your taste on his tongue that drives him crazy instantly

but most of the time he won't make sure you can't escape him, he might whine a little, but otherwise he'll just hope you'll let him have his fun for as long as possible

really he just wants to please you, and your taste drives him insane - he's way too in the moment to think about what may or may not happen even a second from now

and it just makes him soooo horny too

if you let him he will certainly start touching himself too while eating you out, but he won't permit himself to cum before you aren't 110% satisfied first

Jaemin:

I'm convinced this guy gets drunk on you in general, so imagine what it'd be like if he's pussy drunk on top of that

this is definitely gonna trigger both a very caring and a very possessive side of him so you're in for a ride...

gets pussy drunk fairly often though, so he's learned to keep himself in check most of the time

intense eye contact as he eats you out, his hands on your hips to keep you in place

he takes pride in knowing he can drive you crazy with just his tongue, though he will eventually add his fingers too to get you from one orgasm to the other

so soft when he lets you rest in between, asking if you're okay and if you want more (no matter how much he needs to taste you more, he won't rush into more than you can handle)

and then when you give him the okay he's eating you out like there's no tomorrow

starts slow and builds up his pace just right, because this guy has spent countless nights studying your reactions to everything he does to you to make sure he makes you feel as good as he possibly can

Chenle:

doesn't get pussy drunk all that often actually

but when it happens you will know

strikes me as the type who has fun teasing you and getting a little rough with you, so usually he'll make sure to keep you in place as he gives you the bare minimum just so he can get the gratification of hearing you beg for him

so when he suddenly goes super soft after finally letting you cum on his tongue you don't know what's going on for a second???

until you see the look on his face and hear him asking you if you want more in the most caring tone ever

it's clear a switch inside him flicked, and now all he wants to do is please you and take care of you, all thoughts of teasing you long gone

that doesn't mean he won't have you seeing stars in no time - he still knows what he's doing and he's doing it well

it's just that instead of being a little shit, he'll simply continue eating you out until you're a shaking mess underneath him, however long it'll take him

Jisung:

gets pussy drunk so quickly, he won't even know that he is when it first happens??

all he knows is that you taste so so good and he could spend forever eating you out and-

it'll dawn on him only wayyy later what just happened, unless you point it out to him

will simply keep going when he's reached that state, following only his urge to taste you more

is gonna make you cum on his tongue and then immediately continue - only when you start squirming and whining from the overstimulation does he stop for a moment

checks in on you, and when you tell him to slow down, he's trying, he's really trying, but you just taste so good, how could he not become a little greedy?

only when you suggest riding his face instead, so you could control the pace better, does the overstimulation fade into pure bliss

and this guy here too couldn't be happier, like he's just in heaven the entire time, wanting nothing more than to eat you out forever

[muniimyg]

10.5: love 》 series m.list

note: we made it !!! i am so incredibly grateful for everyone's love and support with c2u <3 meeting u all was so fun ,, answering ur asks and interacting thru comments truly made my day ! i'm glad i was able to share this silly goofy concept and have it well received . as usual ,, please lmk ur thots !!! i have 3 extras that will be posted soon (ie: their first hook up, a comfort scenario, and one final smut extra) so please look forward to those !!! thank u for ur patience ,, all the love 💗

warnings: sex tape vibes (kind of), pussy eating (nom nom), fucking LOL ... dirty talk & creampie! easy shit yk? lmaoo

taglist request: CLOSED

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

//

As much as Jungkook loves to play soccer for the glory, he loves it best alone. 

When the bleachers are empty and the field is wide and free—that’s when he feels the most love for his sport. To others, it comes off as lonely and sad but to him; it’s serenity. Sometimes, it’s the only place he feels like he can truly be himself. It’s a place where he doesn’t have to be anything to anyone. It’s a place where he can be lost and found at the same time. It’s also his go-to place when he can’t sleep. Jungkook hasn’t slept well in weeks. He figured it was time to be in his own space.

His haven. 

His favourite part has got to be when he plays so hard that he doesn’t even notice the world is waking up. The moment Jungkook looks up and sees the sunrise—he always gets this feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s an easiness that can’t be explained.

It’s an incredible relief. 

When he sees the sun, he stops playing. He takes a break and sits down to watch the sun bloom on the horizon. There’s so much bliss in the stillness of the world. He feels so much clarity when it’s just him, the net, and the ball. It’s like nothing else matters and his mind can focus on one thing: winning.

Jungkook has only done these late-night sessions a handful of times in his life. 

The first time was the day before Uni tryouts and he doubted his talent. Everyone kept telling him he had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t make him feel any better. To Jungkook, his luck was just like everybody’s. He was afraid of it not coming through when he needed it the most. Therefore, he worked his ass off regardless of his luck history. 

Note: Jungkook was the first in his year to get in. 

The second time was when he fucked up at a game and cost his team a minor setback. It wasn’t the end of the world—he just felt like shit.

The third time was the day he redeemed himself and scored the winning goal that got the team to championships. It was the best game he had in a while. It was also the first time felt tired of it. Tired of the game, tired of the play… Just tired. 

The fourth time was when he decided to take a break from soccer and tend to his burnout… Eventually, he came back after a few months. Of course, he did. He loves soccer more than anything in the world…

That was until you.

He didn’t go back to the field and have a session to himself to celebrate. No, he celebrated with you instead. You didn’t know and he never told you… But that’s what he did. The first day he came back to soccer, he went to you right after. With you, he found rest. 

That’s when he realized something… 

He wasn’t tired anymore.

At least, whenever he was with you.

He wasn’t tired. That’s all he could really ask for, right? To fall in love with someone that was his safety net. 

The fifth time would be today. 

Jungkook has been out here since 3AM, kicking the ball and practicing drills. It upset him, to be honest. He thought being here would help ease his heart. Everything feels so clogged up and messy to him. It’s like no matter what he does to try to clean up his mess, everything stains. So, he thinks to himself that maybe if he ran enough laps or kicked the ball hard enough—it would stop.

The mess. 

The yearning.

The loving. 

But it doesn’t.

No, instead his heart continues to ache. As he clenches it every so often, he thinks of you. Then, for a second, his heart is still. In the stillness, he tries to think of good things around him. 

At least the rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it was an hour ago.

At least the sun is coming up and it’s a new day. 

At least you were here—

Wait. 

You’re here?

Jungkook rubs his eyes. Partly due to disbelief and partly because the rain made it hard to see you clearly. Yet, somehow… In his heart, he knows it. He knows it’s you. 

How’d you know where he was? More importantly, why are you here? 

Why was his heart racing so fast again? 

Be still. 

He isn’t sure of what to do. Should he wave? Should he call your name? Are you here on accident? 

Considering it’s almost 6AM… It can’t be an accident, right?

Just as much as Jungkook’s head begins to fill with questions, yours does too. As you walk closer and closer to him, you can’t help but only hear your heartbeat pound louder and louder. Is this normal? To feel like your heart could jump out of your chest if it meant getting to him faster? You let your mind spin. 

Why the fuck are you here? 

What are you doing again?

Did you write everything down?

You sure felt a lot braver ten minutes ago… Suddenly, seeing him has made you doubt all the courage you worked to have for this moment. At the same time, the complex feeling of pure happiness and relief blossoms. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him. There’s a stillness in the world and it’s only when you look at him and it’s good. You know that now… But oh my god. 

You’re about to lose your shit. 

How did you get here?

When did it all begin? 

Was it from the first night you two slept together? Or was it the karaoke night when you realized you were waiting for him to kiss you? Could it be time he fucked you in front of your mirror and you vowed to never drink coffee before meeting up with him ever again? 

… No. 

Maybe it was when Mina came along. 

You gave him a blowjob just to stall him from going (bad move, by the way. That was pretty bitchy). Oh, and we can’t forget about the time you craved him when you were drunk out of your mind and all he did was take care of you. Half asleep, you woke up to him mounting your mirror on the wall… And well, maybe…

Maybe it was then. 

When he fixed your mirror, he fixed your heart. 

That’s probably why the time you two hooked up in his bedroom at the party felt so right. It was finally clicking.

You were into him then.

You just didn’t know how to admit it. Then, it got fucked up because you were caught off guard. 

The perilla leaf.

The exile. 

The hate sex. 

Everything good and bad has led to this moment and you can’t help but feel like you’re falling apart. Finding the origin of it all feels exhausting… In your head, you debate it all. In your heart, you’ve always known. 

You see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

The friendship, the sleeping with him, the hurting him—the loving him… It wasn’t supposed to do this to you. You aren’t supposed to be this nervous and so impatient at the same time. You aren’t supposed to feel this stupid either… 

But you do. 

… And that’s okay. 

Sometimes, with love, you’re going to feel a little stupid. You just have to cross your fingers and hope the person you’re being stupid for is just as stupid as you. 

In your case… There’s a good chance he is. 

As you stand on the sidelines, Jungkook places his hand over his eyes to see you clearer. He tilts his head in confusion as you drop your bag. 

Then, just like that…

It happens. 

His thoughts pause, his heart goes still for the nth time, and his world slows down as he takes in the sight of you. Nothing will ever be better than this. The same way he feels an ease when he watches the sunrise—he feels it as he looks at you right now. 

God, he loves you so much. 

He has known it for so long but this… You in this moment; it’s bliss. 

Complete and utter bliss. 

If that isn’t enough… His heart is completely undone the moment he realizes two things: one, you’re wearing his jersey, and two; you’re holding a towel in your arms for him. He can’t help but let a laugh escape his lips. All that shit you said about how you would never be a part of his fan club and how you could never be that girl…

Oh, this is gold. 

Honestly, it’s more than enough. For you to show up and make this effort—it fills his heart. Yet, you’re you. Always full of surprises and ways of making his heart go on overdrive. As he sinks in his thoughts and soaks this moment in; he watches you take a deep breath. Then, slowly but surely, you extend your hand out to him. 

It’s then when he knows it. 

The wait was worth it.

The wait is over.

You and Jungkook sit on a bench, under the technical area’s cover. For a while, you two watch the sunrise in silence. Both too afraid to say anything to ruin the moment—both so undoubtedly in love. Once the sun is fully up, you brace yourself. 

This is it. 

Jungkook turns to you, chasing your eyes. 

“You nervous or something?” he jokes, as he begins to dry his hair with the towel you placed around his neck. 

“Yeah,” you confide. “Am I doing this right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as you scoot closer to him and take the towel. In your continued silence, you take over and start to dry his hair. Scrunching the towel, you pat dry his neck and cheeks. He gulps, unsure of what to do… He likes it though. He likes that you’re taking care of him and that you’re trying. He knows you are. 

As you pat dry him, you try to find your words. It takes a moment, but you think to yourself… It’s now or never, right? You’re already here. You’ve already folded. 

It catches Jungkook off guard when you suddenly tug him close. Putting the towel aside, you cup his cheeks with your hands. Your hands are cold, but he doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s holding himself back from kissing them. With a pout on your lips, you begin your confession. 

“I hate being your friend.” 

Jungkook squints at you and chuckles. He removes your hands from his cheeks, smirking at you. “What bullshit are you on now? Didn’t we agree on—”

“I never agreed,” your eyebrows knit together. “It’s been like… A day and a half and I’m going crazy being your stupid friend.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Enemies?”

His suggestion annoys you.

You lift your hand to hit him, but he catches your wrist. Then, he opens his hands for you. You sigh teasingly but take it. Intertwining your fingers together, you two sit in silence again for a moment. 

Holding hands, watching as the rain pours, and preparing to give your hearts to one another… It feels like this could be a dream.

“Tae and Yuna, ” you begin, breaking the silence. Your voice sounds weary and desperate. “They’ve been friends since the very beginning. He always had feelings for her and she did too… But she didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. He’s dating Mina’s friend now or something—it’s so messed up. It’s so unfair, y-you know? They deserve each other so much and I—”

“Breathe,” Jungkook comforts you. “They’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want that to be us,” you blurt. 

Jungkook blinks at you. 

“It’s so scary. Jungkook, I don’t want that to be us… B-but it is us, isn’t it? Y-you hate me because of—“

His eyebrows knit together. “___, I don’t hate you. Don’t say that.”

Your lips quiver, unsure of how to navigate through this talk. Maybe you should have planned it better. Maybe you should have written this whole speech out instead of word-vomiting like this… But that’s the thing. 

You aren’t good at this.

Regardless, you’ll try for him.

“I’ve been selfish,” you admit, letting your eyes dart to the field. You can’t look at him. It feels too overwhelming to.  “I’ve been inconsiderate and I know I can’t justify my actions because they hurt you—I just need you to know that I was scared. It was so scary trusting you, falling asleep beside you, and waking up next to you. It was so scary watching you laugh with other girls and not knowing how to tell you how I felt… I’m sorry I started fights while trying to figure out how I felt about myself… Honestly? I think I was so scared because you made it so easy.”

A beat.

“T-the truth is… I’ve always known how I felt about you.” 

Jungkook can’t help but smile. He wonders if you know what you’re doing to him… Do you? He’s afraid you don’t.

“Really?” he pries, moving closer to you. “How do you feel about me?”

Attempting to be intimidating, you turn to face him with a glare. 

“D-don’t push it.”

Jungkook pouts. “But I want to know… Please, please, please?”

For a moment you contemplate. Then, you look at him and take it all in. His wet hair, soft eyes, and pouting lips… How were you ever strong enough to say no to him before? Truly, you’re a changed woman.

Curling your fist, you shut your eyes and say it. You tell him the whole truth. 

You give him your heart. 

“You said you got ahead of yourself… But have you ever considered that I was beside you the entire time? L-like you said you’ve had feelings for me since the first time you made me laugh… Me too. I knew it then too. I just didn’t know what to do because every time I dated guys, it all felt the same… With you, it was different from the start. I don’t know how to explain it… All I know is that I like you in every way it’s possible to like someone—I like you. My heart has been yours all along. I’m sorry it took me so long to give it to you. It just felt like everything with you kept falling into place and I was terrified I was f-falling too… I think—n-no, I… Umm, I know that I…”

Something others may not know about Jungkook is that he’s consistently bad at one thing. That one thing is playing it cool when it comes to you. He has to fight his inner demons to stop himself from professing his love for you every 10 minutes. So, it would be a lie that he wasn’t loving this. He loves watching you feel what he feels. 

Your words, sweet and well-awaited, completely captivate him. 

He can’t help it when you’re like this. So perfect, so cute, so his. He can’t resist!

Which is why he kisses you mid-confession. 

Jungkook kisses you slowly and deeply. Like never before, you lose your breath from how passionately he kisses you. Once you two pull away, he rests his forehead against yours. Smiling, he sneaks in a couple more kisses. 

Timidly, you say, “So… You aren’t mad at me anymore?”

With a laugh, Jungkook shakes his head. “God, you drive me crazy.”

“So… That’s a no, right?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and purses his lips. You press your lips against them and kiss him once more. 

“___?”

“Y-yeah?”

“... I checked my phone a moment ago and Yuna ratted you out. She texted me like ten minutes before you came. Said if you don't show up I should knock on your door and fuck your feelings out of you.” You gasp, burying your face with your hands. Sighly dramatically, Jungkook makes a cheeky comment. “Once again, I waited for you.” 

You hit his chest playfully. In pure disbelief, you groan at him. “What? Y-you knew and still made me do the whole speech—”

"I didn’t know!” You ignore his claim. “Although, I wouldn't have had any issue fucking the feelings out of you—"

"Are you insane?" you fume. "I was literally sick to my stomach trying to get this confession thing done right!"

“I was excited!” He teases, and nudges you. You remain annoyed at him. Jungkook can’t help but find it cute. “Awh, ___! Come on. It’s not every day that a guy gets to see his girl in his jersey, holding a towel for him on the sidelines! Also… I just really wanted to see what all your fuss was about. I promise, I didn’t know.”

It’s too late. 

Just as you stand up and storm away from the embrassment, Jungkook catches up to you. Out on the field, the rain continues to pour on you two. Drying him off was useless if you were going to be this dramatic. 

As he catches your wrist, you shove him away and cross your arms. 

“I feel stupid,” you sigh. “Y-you knew how I felt about you. I was worried and anxious the entire time and y-you knew!” 

Jungkook shuts his eyes and can’t believe how feisty you are. It’s entertaining and frustrating at the same time. God, you were so complex… But at the same time, he knows you’re just afraid. This is you finding an out. This is also you trying to stay. 

He takes your hand. 

You don’t shake him off say anything. 

You let him take it. 

He holds it like it’s all he has ever wanted to do (it is all he has ever wanted to do).

“I didn’t know everything! Hey, the fuss was cute,” he ensures you. “Do it again.”

“No!” you cry, feeling your clothes start to stick to your skin. It’s pouring now and you instantly regret being dramatic.

Except, Jungkook looks so perfect. His hair is wet and his shirt is soaked so you can see the way his muscles curve. He’s so handsome that you have to gather all your strength as a woman to keep yourself from jumping on him.

“This shit is so hard!” you complain through the rain. “How did you do this? You confessed like every time we fucked—”

“Yah!” Jungkook warns, feeling a little embarrassed. Maybe he should be the one to storm away now…  “Be nice to me or else I’m about to reject you.”

You roll your eyes at him. Grabbing him by the collar, you tug him to your eye level. Happily, he complies. 

“Do it then,” you call his bluff. “Reject me right now.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, loving the way you look at him. He blinks at you slowly and bites his inner cheek. For a moment, he’s silent. You’d think he’s contemplating or something… But he’s not. He’s been sure about you since your first laugh, remember?

“Kinda cruel considering you’re all I’ve been waiting for,” Jungkook confesses, as he dips his head low and kisses you. 

As he kisses you, you squeeze his hand. Holding his hand tighter, he smiles into the kiss. The rain continues to pour, making everything feel unreal. As he pulls away, he looks at you the way he always has… This time, you get what Yuna was talking about.

The warmth in his gaze.

The love in it.

The you in it.

After what felt like endless heartache with other boys—this felt healing. 

This was yours. 

Him. 

And that’s when your heart tells you something you never knew… 

You waited well too. 

You two escape the rain and make it to your place.

In your bedroom, you quickly get undressed and sit in front of your mirror to dry your hair. Jungkook comes out of the washroom all clean. Passing by you, he plants a kiss on the top of your head. You watch from the mirror as he reaches inside your closet for one of his shirts. 

Your high from the moment at the field suddenly dies. Suddenly, you realize the confession wasn’t enough to move forward. For fucks sake, he has his clothes in your closet.

“Jungkook?” you ask cutely.

“Mhmm?” he responds as he dresses himself.

You almost choke on your words. “What are we?” 

He grins, coming back to you and swaying you side to side. Without batting an eye, he answers: “friends, of course!”

Instantly, you push him away. Your shoulders slump as you glare at him. He laughs his ass off, loving the way you reacted. When he calms down, he kneels in front of you and apologizes. 

“Okay, bestie,” you play along as he gets up. “Should we eat perilla leaves to celebrate?” 

Jungkook’s mouth drops. His eye practically twitches at the mention of perilla leaves.

Throwing his hands up dramatically, he cries, “Oh god... My girlfriend is so mean to me… She’s so hot, holy shit.”

Girlfriend.

That sounds about right.

He’s so big. 

Sometimes, you forget that.

It slips your mind because Jungkook has always been a giver. You never really had to worry about it being uncomfortable. He makes sure you cum first and always puts his needs above yours—tonight was a prime example of just that. 

As he towers over you, he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips. Each kiss is so soft and intimate, your pussy clenches at his very touch. It doesn’t help when he places his thumb on your clit, rubbing and stretching it out to stimulate you even more. As you moan into his ear, he feels shivers go down his back. 

You gasp as he bites your skin, enticing you to want him even more. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “put it in, please.”

“Mhmm,” he moves the hair strands on your face and kisses you. “Be good for me, okay? Be patient. Gonna fuck you good so I need you to be on your best behaviour.”

“B-best behaviour,” you repeat rather lewdly. “Okay… W-whatever you want, love. You have it. You have me.”

Love.

God, you and your fucking words.

Jungkook bites his bottom lip, trying his best to take his time. Truth be told, he wants to fuck you silly right now. He wants you so bad that your legs won’t work and he’ll have to tend to your soreness. He wants to fuck you so good that you scream his name and lose yourself in him… But he’ll take his time tonight. 

He wants to show you so much. He wants to show you how good he can make you feel. How you won’t ever regret your decision of being with him. He wants to show you what kind of man you chose and what kind of man you get to have.

A good man.

A man that has wanted you for so long that now that he has you—oh was he ready to drag it out.

Jungkook gently places his dick in between your folds. It’s hard and thick. You can feel it against your wet pussy and want nothing more than for him to put it in. Instead, Jungkook lifts himself and sits in between your legs. There, he holds the base of his cock and slaps it against your pussy. He rubs his cock up and down your folds. Then, he splits them open with his fingers and spits on it. He then spreads his spit with his cock. You feel so lucky when he pokes it inside once in a while. Like a tease, he takes it out so quickly that you begin to feel frustrated. 

“P-put it in, please…”

Jungkook smirks. 

“Put what in?”

You glare at him.

“Your hard, thick, stupid cock. Put it in my wet, needy, desperate pussy right now… Please?”

Jungkook lets out a sexy chuckle. “Not yet,” he tells you, as he fully stops. He then moves over and helps you sit up. Leaning against your headboard, he spreads your legs. Just when you think you can predict his next move, he reaches over to your nightstand and grabs his phone. Unlocking it, he passes it to you.

“Film me.”

You nod, following his orders.

Tapping record, you angle the camera to your pussy. You watch through the phone screen as Jungkook positions his face in between your legs. Gulping, you throw your head back as he makes his first lick. 

Jungkook holds onto your thighs, helping you keep your legs open. He digs himself into your pussy, devouring every inch of it. To deepen himself, he digs his nose in and curls his tongue as he licks you. When he pulls away for air, he sucks on your clit making sure to keep you on your toes. 

“Oohhh,” you sob. “S-so good. J-Jungkook—“

“Mhmm,” he murmurs onto your skin. “Tastes so good.”

“A-aghhh! Oh my god!”

The thing is… Jungkook has eaten you out before.

But this was different.

It was slow and sensual. The way he licks you and eats you out just feels so surreal. Your toes curl, your stomach winces, and your pussy tightens as you’re about to climax—

Jungkook pulls away. 

He has a devilish look on his face. You stop the recording and toss his phone aside. Suddenly, he takes hold of your ankles and tugs you down. On your back, you open your arms and welcome him in again. Gladly, he buries himself in your breasts and moans at your softness. 

“That was—“

“Everything my girl deserves,” he tells you sweetly. “My girl…”

“Your girl,” you pull him in for a kiss. “All yours..”

Jungkook moans, unable to stop himself. He lifts his hips, making space for him to quickly pump his cock before guiding it inside you.

… And oh my god.

He feels so good.

Him inside you is so fulfilling and healing. 

“You okay?”

You nod, mesmorized by the man he is.

“More than.”

With that, Jungkook kisses you and begins to fuck you. He thrusts in and out, making you feel his entire length with each stroke. Your body takes him in as if it’s welcoming him home. As he feeds you your craving, he picks up the pace. You wrap your legs around him, moaning from how good it feels as he buries himself in you. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook hisses. “Love this. Feels so good.”

“Mhmm,” you whimper. “J-just like that!”

Jungkook continues to fuck you, drilling himself deeper and deeper. Soon, you’re chanting his name and his ego begins to boom.

Jungkook fucks you like he loves you… And you know it. You can feel it. To express so, you claw his back. Digging your nails deeper and deeper, holding him close.

“N-nghhh! I’m gonna cum—”

“Cum for me, pretty girl. You behaved so well,” he praises. “Proud of you.”

Your heart flutters. 

Then, your pussy clenches as you release. He feels it. Jungkook groans, accepting that this round will be over soon. There will be plenty more, for sure. As he pumps inside you lazily, cautious of being sensitive to your climax but also because he’s hitting his. 

Then, he creams your pussy. It oozes out, but he pumps himself a few more times to stuff you.

As he spills himself onto you, he lets out heavy breaths and collapses on top of you. You let him catch his breath there as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“I love you,” you confess. 

“Good… I was hoping you would.” Jungkook lets out a tired laugh. “I love you too, ___. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re everything I’ve ever loved.”

You hold him tighter.

“I love you more.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. “Love, we are not going to play that game.”

Tilting your head at him. “Why not? It’s true.”

“You think you love me more than I love you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Prove it.”

With that, Jungkook laughs as you shift position. Leaving him on his back, you climb on top and straddle him. As you lift yourself to guide his dick inside, he lets out a whiney moan. You are so sexy. You are quite literally his favourite part of living.

“I’ll prove it,” you accept the challenge. “Will you last though?”

Jungkook’s lips slight part, amazed and shocked at your initiative. In response, he relaxes and gestures at your body. There’s a tightness that overcomes his entire body. It’s mixed with excitement and relief. For the nth time, he gives in.

Jungkook folds.

Happily, he gives himself to you.

“With you? Forever.”

Forever.

After 3 rounds, you two call it a night. As you drift to sleep, Jungkook holds you. Before this, you two talked as much as you could and even began to make plans. There is an indescribable comfort in being with each other.

Upcoming dates.

Better ways to communicate.

Everything and anything in between—you two want it all.

As the rain pours, Jungkook finally shuts his eyes. He pulls you closer, kissing you for the final time tonight. There would be tomorrow to kiss you anyway.

Tomorrow and the day after that… And the day after that. And the days that follow—he’d do just that.

He can’t wait to kiss you forever.

To hold your hand forever.

To love you forever.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook finds rest. His heart stays still and feels loved. Besides, this is what he has wanted to be all along—

Close to you.

[grugruel]

Say it Again

Pairings: Cooper Howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: For a long time, there'd been a quiet, reciding fondness between you and your companion. And when you finally journey back to your old vault, feelings are stirred from the depths and brought to the surface.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: (mentions of blood, violence, death), angst, pinv sex, passionate sex, strong feelings, "I love you", pet names (darlin', sweetheart, honey), hair pulling (squint and you'll miss it), overstimulation, creampie, praise (both recieving).

AN: Not yet proofread! Let me know what yall think about the music inserts. I figured since its such a big part of the fallout universe, I might aswell ad it in a fic too! Enjoy yall!!

The vault was open. . . It took my mind a few moments to wrap around the idea.

The thought of it being perpetually shut was so hard-wired into my being that I would've thought the gaping door a hallucination had it not been for my own departure a few months prior.

And I knew- I knew it ment nothing good. But perhaps they'd all left–alive, wandering the wasteland in search of better luck–a better life.

♪ Yes, pretending that I'm doing well

A familiar melody rang faint, barely reaching through the howling wind as it sang up a storm of scorching sand, whipping and tearing at my clothes.

In abivalence, I made my way toward the facade. Eyes examining the number 33 written in a bold, weathered font on the hefty external door.

A pang of guilt hit me–maybe I shouldn't have left, maybe I could've prevented whatever happened here. With the inhale of a calming breath, I stepped up to the construction, running the flat of my palm along the beaten but familar metal.

Then, without so much as a single thought of caution, I stepped over the threshold. The safety of a vault- my vault, was too fresh in my mind. That allong with the trust I placed in the hands of my shadow, suspecting his vigilance to be enough for the both of us.

Tracing the cool, grand archway with my fingertips as I entered, feeling the wear of oxidisation on its surface. Such a small detail I'd never payed any mind to before. How aged it was, yet still standing strong. A reminder of its resilience- of its impenetrable metal, planned to withstand outside threats for hundreds of years. And now, there it stood–wide open. The derision of the situation nagged me terribly.

♪ I'm lonely but no one can tell

When no longer veiled by the wind, the song sang clearly, its notes reverberating throughout the metal in a forboding fashion. Setting off a feeling of unease in the pit of my stumache.

While I stood familiarising myself again, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me, observing me. Monitoring my grief-struck and conflict ridden mind with a commiserating gaze. Their constant and reassuring prescence hovering behind me in semblance of a specter, keeping a respectful distance as my mind worked through what might have transpired while I was away.

♪ Oh yes, I'm the great pretender

The volume grew stronger as we made our way inside, my feet moving with slight hesitation as they clanged along the grated flooring.

♪ Adrift in a world of my own ♪

Stepping on the elevator, I steadied myself against the railing, feeling it vibrate beneath my hands with the frequency of the music. Those sweet well-known tunes only growing more and more eerie as we descended, accompanied by that strange constant hum from the bedrock, from the quiet. A white noise that only lived in vast open constructions such as this. Inhabiting the walls, the floor, and open spaces made from metal and stone.

A shiver ran down my spine, I'd never liked the quiet, despite the volume of the music, the quiet resounded. It'd always made to much noise in my mind.

♪ You've seen and you've left me to dream all alone

But when the doors opened to the floor below, a reassuring hand placed itself on the small of my back, amicably giving me a final push when I'd stood too long hesitating.

And it helped, it really did. The eclipsing stillness of the vault and the distorting of the music softened, fading and returning to that of good times–when they'd still existed.

♪ Too real is this feeling of make-believe

But the possibilities of what I might find ahead launched a gruesome assault on my mind. I tried distracting myself–thud, thud, thud. Our dull steps tapped against the floor. A pair of spurs clicking along with the steady rythm, leather groaning. Turns out I could only hear him, and I prefered it that way.

♪ Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

It was a better focus then the constant searching for bloodsplatter and unmoving bodies, splayed out on the floor or tucked into a corner, seeking shelter, protection–spurs, leather-

I snapped back, the lyrics echoing in my mind and bouncing of the walls simultaneously, resonating throughout the empty halls as I jumped off of that dark train of thought before it could spiral further. The hands scrunched the fabric of my clothes, silently checking on me, attempting to refocus my mind. On the music, on him, anything was better.

♪ Yes, I'm the great pretender

I followed the words, thinking of the ones before and those to come. I still remember the list of songs. They'd played during weddings and social gatherings. We had them in our houses. I remember dancing in the kitchen, with swaying to the music with those I love. It was one of those moments which you knew you'd remeber forever, which would become a core part of you. Always to be looked back on, and sure enough.

I could't help myself from smiling, such fond memories. In my peripheral, his eyes softened. Still keeping his vigilant watch over my well-being, returning my smile with no intention of ever telling me, unkowing that I had indeed noticed him as he did so.

♪ Yes, just laughing and gay like a clown

But now, as I wandered the abandoned halls of the vault, they were only a tragic reminder of a time gone by–yet, I could see no bodies, no evidence of a fight or struggle–relief flooded through me. However, I still didn't dare make my way down to the compost section, I'd walked that path to many times on my last day here.

♪ I seem to be, what I'm not, you see

The hand angainst my back brushed my clothed skin with a thumb, circling a vertebra, moving to squeeze my arm as it then fell back to his side. The loss of his touch was dissapointing, but the closeness of his body made up for it.

We took a turn, away from the chance of decaying bodies and toward the fields of crop. I wanted to see it one last time, remember that last wedding–the good times, before I left and the place had become this, before it was reduced to a graveyard of memories.

♪ And I'm wearing my heart like a crown

I found my eyes wandering as we walked, constantly sliding to the man beside me. An aching arose in my heart, the two of us could've been something real sweet. Something true, something strong. If only we had the freedom of chance and opportunity. But as it were, we simply coexist, solely striving to survive in a world swallowed up by nuclear waste and feral brutality. I don't know what I would've done without him, it was a long road for us to grow this close–we didn't get along too well when we first met.

♪ Oh yes, I'm pretending and praying that you're still around

The music tunes out, fading into quiet nothing, like dust particles leaving rays of light–simply seizing to exist. I felt the comparison too familiar for my liking, turns out anything is just a metaphor for something else.

After waiting patiently and biding it's time, that strange hum takes up again. Making me wish he'd hold me steady, a d let the drumming of his heart be the only thing I hear. A wish that frequented my mind a lot as of late.

It's interesting how much you learn about yourself and the world when leaving the safety of your vault. The most ironic thing–radiation, and the fact that its the least to be worried about on the surface, the real danger being what dwells in the midst of it. Creatures–beasts, savages and monsters. The rad mutated animals are nothing compared to the barabarians that the human species have become, I really had no idea what stripping someone of their basic needs and a guaranteed future could do to a person before I entered the wasteland. And now, I cant help but marvel at the fact that only a few have resorted to eating eachother and worshipping radiation.

Dog-eat-dog is an old expression that comes to mind. Apparently it was used way before all of this befell us, and I can't help but imagine how bad we could've been back then to create such a phrase in a law-abiding society. But they were the poeple to destroy the world and we to rebuild it, so perhaps its not that strange after all.

Either way, I don't remember it personally. I wasn't alive back then, but it was told to me by someone who was.

The next song started up, the sorrowful tune keeping the deafening white noise at bay, and as I had predicted the list, it was my favorite to be played.

♪ There's a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles away ♪

The tape, surely damaged–played a slower version than I remembered, but it was all the same to me as I let it envelop me in a veil of comfort before finally laying eyes on what we'd come here for–corn. I felt their green stems beneath my fingers as I walked along the field, it was a miracle they were even alive and surviving whatever hardships they'd encountered. Another metaphor.

There came a rustling behind me, my companion doing the same as I had. A scarred hand reaching out to slide his fingers through the crop, keeping a stunned expression on his face, the corners of his lips curling upward.

♪ And they call it Lonesome Town

Where all the broken hearts stay ♪

It must've been a long time for him since feeling something living like this. Much, much longer than it had for me. And I'd just taken it all for granted.

Keeping our pace, we followed the path through the crops until fianlly, the familiarity of a huge wall welcomed me home.

Surrounding me was a vast sky with millions of stars and endlessly stretching mountains, following a path so distant I could not spot the end, all the while the high moon cast silvery blue light upon the world. A projection of the Nebraskan countryside. I used to stare at it for hours, dreaming myself away to a place that no longer existed. 'Did it really look like this? The world- I mean.' I hatched out of me.

♪ You can buy a dream or two

To last you all through the years ♪

'It sure did.' My companion turned to face me, choosing a lesser view over the pretty one before him. He was a mere arms-length away. 'It could be real beautiful.' He said, his eyes roaming my face.

♪ And the only price you pay

Is a heart full of tears ♪

He was a brute, that is true. He was the outcome of living through literal hell, but he'd fared quite well through it all in my opinion. He had his humanity left, which is more than I can say for the majority of the population. Charming and quick-witted, dangerous and cold. He'd seen who we were and what we had become, it's no wonder he acted the way he did. But it was all the same to me, he was strong and handsome, he could even by kind-hearted at times, and I loved him through it all.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

The implication made me blush, and shy away from his eager eyes while I averted my own, leading them back to the contryside. 'I wish I could've seen it.' I tried to focus, studying the sight meticulously, jotting down every detail in my mind. I hadn't had time the last time I was here- not to dwell. Too late now it seemed, the memory resurfacing with a passion as my eyes drifted over the scorching cloud in the sky, burned into the irreplaceable film. My lips drew into a thin line as I swallowed, it was reality, it was life. But it didn't stop my stumache from churning, the stench of wet metal revisiting my nose.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

A scarred hand reached up to brush strands of hair from my face, again, distracting me mercifully. Rough knuckles gently sliding over my cheek and the neighing of my jaw. 'I wish you could too.' He grasped my chin between this thumb and index finger, tilting my face upwards, our gazes meeting eachother.

♪ In a Town of broken dreams

The streets are filled with regret ♪

I leaned into his touch, for it was rare. Rare that he allowed himself simple pleasures such as touching me, even though I would willingly give myself to him at a moments whim. 'I love you.' I whispered. 'Please, please let me.'

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I can learn to forget ♪

The music glitched, the sound warping spookily as the needle scratched and jumped the groves in the needle. Shutting off for a second and then coming back on, restarting the song.

He shook his head, eyes uncharacteristically soft as met mine. Uncharacteristic to anyone but me. 'I can't feel ya', sweetheart.' He reclaimed his hand and took a step back, squeezing it into a fist, frustration shaking it as he cursed himself. The music tuned out, and all I see was the blue light contrasting his red-burnt skin, enforcing its texture as shadows settled in the contours and the pale silver on his high points. All I could hear were his words, the frustration and insufficiencies hinding in his tone, mirroring my own. 'Can't feel your fuckin' softness, cant feel your skin.'

'You can–' I followed his movement, gaining on the distance he'd created between us. '–it might not be ideal, but it's us.' I slid my fingers along his clothed arm, grabbing his coarse hand.

'I'm here, not perfect, and that's what you can feel. Imperfection. . . It's something that belongs to us.' I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to reassure him. To truly make him understand.

'I dont deserve you.' He leaned his forehead against mine, his cowboy hat sliding up his head as he did so.

It was my turn to shake my head now. 'Oh, but if you only knew what you desvered.' My voice broke, eyes watering. 'The world, coop. You've been through so much, you survived the bombs dropping for fucks sake, and the following 200 years after that. What you did during those years was for your own survival, please do not ever feel bad about any of it.' The silence that ensued became too long, too deafening. 'I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so beautiful in your own right.' A tear fell down my cheek.

'I dont feel bad 'bout it sweetheart, thats the problem. I aint any of that, 'm a selfish killer. There's nothin' left of who I were–the good part. . .' his hand slid down my arms, squeezing my biceps to emphasize. '. . .what little good there was, it died a long time ago.' His drawl thick as he spoke, kissing my forehead. 'You can do better, 'n I cant allow those precious years of yours to go to waste on somethin' like me.' He wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head, cradeling it to his chest as he pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head. The wetness of my cheeks transfering to his shirt. 'Don't cry, sweetheart. Dont cry 'cause of me.' He kissed my forehead again, working his way downward–cheekbone, jaw and finally–my lips.

His hands slid down the outline of my body, shoulders and ribs, then settled on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss in the same motion.

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I allowed him to kiss me for too long, I allowed him to believe his own words for too long. I pulled free, tearing away to breathe, to lock my eyes on his. 'I dont want who you were, dont you understand?' I cup his face, truly feeling him beneath my fingers, and loving every bump and dent. 'I want who you are now, scars and all. It's not for you to allow me anything. Get that in your head.' My voice had gone harsh, and even though he needed to hear it with all the conviction I muster, I added 'Please. . .' As softly as I could.

♪ I can learn to forget

The last notes of the song died out.

He shook his head as a small, breathless, humorless chuckle erupted from his lips. '. . .I love you too. . .'

♪ Only you

The next song started, the voice vibrating through his bones. A song he'd danced to when it was first released, twirling a life that no longer existed in his arms. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune as he embraced the memory, arms wrapping tightly around its waist, hugging it lovingly one last time. Then let go.

♪ Can do, make this world seem right

He mouthed the words as he opened his eyes, finding her sweet face looking up at him, his pretty girl. It'd taken him more than he wished to admit, to say those three words. How such meak and fruitless words had cause him so much turmoil, he didn't know.

♪ Only you

Because when he looked at her now–stars projecting in her glimmering eyes, the wetness of tears remaining on her cheeks, anf with the backdrop of a countryside from a bygona era–the prevailing feeling was grief, a mourning over the precious time wasted, time he could've spent in admitant love with her. Holding her, kissing her, loving her. Things he just hadn't allowed himself to concede to, to fall slave under it. To truly feel it from the bottom of his heart–instead, reciding in the pit of it, in some dark, tucked away corner, was the feeling of being lesser and undeserving of her softness, her own kind heart.

♪ Can do, make the darkness bright

'Come.' She said, a faint smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. Away from the corn, away from Nebraska. He followed her willingly, blindly trusting her as she pulled him to wherever. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

♪ Only you and you alone

The music grew fainter, devolving into a sweet hum, a lullig as the distance of the speakers tossed the sound boucing after them, echoing along the vaults longevous walls while they moved through them.

He turned her hand over as they walked, observing it quietly as he rubbed gentle circles into the plush skin of her hand, admiring what softness he could feel, his distorted hands dulling the sense unbareably.

♪ Can thrill me like you do

But it didnt matter in the end. Imperfection is what she'd said, and it belonged to them. His heart ached, eyes drifting over the small form leading him. The way her hair swayed and body moved, he could feel himself harden. Guilting himself. It was love for a woman, a family, that had once driven him to survive- with that life now long gone, it was that beautiful girl infrontnof him that kept him going.

♪ And fill my heart with only love for you

They passed several doors with accompanying mailboxes, until she slowed and halted her steps so suddenly, she almost collided with his chest. Her form stood frozen, contemplating, just as she'd done when they first entered the vault.

A scorched finger rose up to stroke her cheek. 'You alright, sweetheart?'

♪ Oh, only you

'Mhm. . .' She hummed. 'One moment.' And whipped around to face him, opening his saddlebag to rummage through it.

Unsuspectingly, a blush crept it's way up her cheeks, seemingly caused by the intent gaze he focused so tightly on her.

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

They'd just kissed, professed their love. Yet, it was his closeness, his warm breath against her that made her blush. He'd never want to be anywhere else. His gaze wandered, studying the home they stood infront of. Eyes landing on a mailbox, he read the full name aloud with a loving smile on his lips.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She whispered, a coy smile on her lips. Suddenly- her eyes widened, finding what she'd been looking for, she pulled the object out of the bag, holding it up for him to see. An old pipboy.

"Welcome" it read, and as she turned one of the kogs, the door to the house opened.

♪ For its true

It was exactly the way I remembered it, not a detail out of place–rather an added layer of dust coating every surface of the place.

I ran a finger along the top of my scratched desk, gathering a pillow of dust on top of it. And then I saw it, standing lonely and abandoned–my old radio. Glee filled me as I turned it on, reflecting the song that was already playing outside. Filling my little house with soft waves of sweet tunes, all thr while weighing my heart terribly. Strong nostalgia splitting me in two. 'I used to love dancing.' The words left my lips in a soft murmur. 'Some of my favorite memories are from this kitchen, and now. . .' My voice broke. Inspected the dust and rubbed it between my fingers, observing how it crumbled to the floor. Perhaps another meatphor–how I myself am responsible for my old life crumbling.

♪ You are my destiny

A pair of hands found my waist, a chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me close, my back thudding against a strong chest. 'Its alright. . .' He breathed against my neck. 'We can make new ones.' Kissing my skin softly as he began moving with the music.

♪ When you hold my hand

My lips curled into a smile as I declined my head against his chest, snaking my hand behind his neck as the other fell on top of his hand, squeezing it with gratefulness. 'Thank you.' I whispered.

♪ I understand the magic that you do

He twirled me around, luring a giggle to erupt. He caught and pulled me close again, this time face to face. His eyes were still so clear, such a stark contrast to his muddled skin.

♪ You're my dream come true

The lyrics seemed to speak for us as my fingers interlocked behind his neck, my thumbs brushing his jaw. While his hands squeezed my sides, exhaling a long breath as we swayed, his eyes intently searching mine. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

♪ My dream come true

Without hesitation, my lips met his. 'Then prove it to me Coop. . .' Coyness tugged on my lips, my hands sliding to the buttons of his vest, '. . . Let me feel it.'

♪ Oh-oh, only you

He grinned against my lips. 'Anyhtin' for my girl.' And his hands wrapped around mine, helping them unbutton his clothes, skiding them off of him. Barechested as he was, he twirled me again. Back to chest, he whispered in my ear, 'Your turn, darlin'.'

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

Gladly, with my hands still guided by his touch, I brushed them along my torso, undoing every button of my shirt as I did so and slid it off my shoulders, my bra coming off next. He cupped them eagerly, a groan leaving his lips as he massaged them. Ingiting a pulse deep in my uterus. The music seemed to tune out off my mind, selective hearing I suppose.

Moaning in response, I could feel him harden as he pressed his hips into my ass. 'Need to feel it.'

'Undress.' Was all he said, removing his own clothes as I did mine.

A short moment later, he had my back pinned against a wall and my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up with a firm arm around my waist–the other busy lining himself up with my core.

Suddenly- he pushed inside, leaving me as a whimpering mess. 'Good girl, sweetheart. . .' He whispered, doing nothing to ease the aching matter. '. . .sound so pretty for me.'

And without warning, he pulled out, and thrusted back into me again with full force. 'Mmh- Fuck!' I cried out. But his lips were on mine before I could fully register how big he was. Again and again, he trusted right into my core. His tongue fighting for control as it battled my own. My body was aching with a burning want for him, a need so strong I already felt myself closing in on my orgasm. '. . .'M gonna cum, Coop. Slow down, p- please. I stuttered the words, strained breaths dividing the sentence.

'Its ok sweetheart, you're doin' so well.' He reassured me, then took my words as a direct command and pushed us off the wall, walked over to the bed and threw us onto it with a cloud of dust kicking up around us.

Obiding my request, he backed up, hooked my legs over his shoulders and re-entered me with a shuddering moan. The feeling of my core effecting him as badly as his member effected me. With one hand burried in my hair, the other palmed a breast while his lips found my neck, gently taking my skin between his teeth as he pushed so deep inside me I almost screamed, but managed to bite my lip to keep quiet. That's when I felt him shake his head against me. 'Don't go all quiet, let me hear ya', honey.'

And so I did, releasing a string of curses disguised as moans while I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing kisses on his cheek while nuzzling my face against him. But I felt that blinding pressure building again, slower this time, but with an unrelenting force.

His warm breaths against my neck accompanied by the feeling of him inside me and the slick sound we created had my head swimming. It was too much, too fast. But this time, I wanted it. '. . .'M close Coop.' I whimpered.

'Me too, honey. Real fuckin' close.' He panted, voiced muffled as he kissed and sucked at my neck, hands fisting my hair and squeezing my breast. His thrusts began faltering as we both approached climax. 'Fuck, feel so good.' He cursed, groaning the words in my ear as our bodies rocked together, moving in sync. I was aflame, the pulsing in my body acting the accessory to his own members pulsing inside me. My eyes screwed shut, he felt so fucking good it was a simple reflex.

He kissed his way along my throat, pulling on my hair to angle my jaw for him, his lips trailing along it's sharps points, then up my cheek, settling in my lips. 'Look at me.' He breathed.

I wanted to listen to him, but my eyes did not. The pleasure was to much, the wall inside me so near collapsing-

'Look at me, sweetheart.' He ordered again, his voice sharper this time.

Having no other option I forced myself to open them. But it was worth it, listening to Cooper always was.

'Good girl.' He praised, his lips colliding with mine. And that wall burst, his words being the final battering ram. Tidal waves of pleasure rolled through me, roiling like crashing waves inside me. 'Love you, sweetheart.' He moaned.

No words would ever spur me on like those ones did, my uterus was quaking with every act of him. 'Say it again.' I pleaded.

'I love you' he whimpered. . . Whimpered. Strong and dangerous as he was, he whimpered as he came inside me. His rocking thrust strained as he continuing rutting into me, doing his best to lead us through our orgasms.

'Good boy, Coop. Again. . . Please.' I begged.

And he listened, repeating the words "I love you" against my lips, his voice pitching and breaking from the sheer pleasure he was submitted to. And when moving to softly nip at my ear, he whimpered those same three words in my ear over and over again until I felt a wetness on my cheeks–tears, I realised. He was overstimulating himself, crying as he made love to me. 'Fuck-' he shuddered the word, the slickness he'd created only coaxing more sounds out of him. 'Love you real fuckin' hard, darlin'. . .' He cried again. And I could've reached a second orgasm from that alone.

'I love you too Coop, love you so much. Youre so good to me.' I reassured him, my own voice near a cry as he was putting me through the ringer in the process. Finally, he began slowing down, his entire body shuddering from the way my insides clenched around him, milking the juies out of him. He kissed me one final time, then pulled out and collapsed beside me.

I had to take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, my hand reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks.

His eyes met mine, both full of unconditional love. We laid like that for some time, loosing ourselves in eachothers gazes as we regarded one another in silent contemplation. All the while I could feel his seed leaking out of my core. 'You're a good man, Cooper Howard.' I whispered.

'I do what I can to deserve ya', sweetheart. The day I'm anythin' else but good to you-' He began. But I stopped him, not wanting his thoughts to walk down that road.

'You'll never be anything but good, Coop.' I inclined my head, kissing him softly before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. 'Don't forget it.' My voice a murmur against his strong neck as I slowly drifted off to sleep within the safety of his embrace.

♪ We'll meet again

Hand in hand, our gazes stay on the halls infront of us as we walk back the way we came.

♪ Don't know where, don't know when

My eyes were on the sand as we left, attempting to distract myself by studying the way the the kernels dent beneath my weight. But with a deep breath, I stop and raise my pip-boy clad arm, looking back toward the falling night, toward the empty timecapsule.

♪ But I know We'll meet some sunny day

The words once again faint as they stab through the howling wind. I turn a kog on the pip-boy, and the vault door rolls into motion. The world around us painted in red-pinkish hues as the door's mechanics shut in the echoing vocals completley, the entrance closing with a heavy, reverberating grating sound.

I can feel my heart thudding hard, beating with a sadness and re found happiness. Revisiting my old home had given me melancholy and a new love. 'You coming?' The voice was soft, considering–unwilling to leave my mind wandering through old, lonely thoughts.

'Let's go.' I murmured, my eyes still on the weathered number 33 as the wind whipped at my cheeks.

'Look at me, sweetheart.' my love drawled, gathering my attention, and I redirect my gaze to his. 'We'll come back.'

I nod. 'We will.' A faint smile make its way to my lips as I stood on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

Then, with his hand in mine, we wandered the wasteland. Searching for better luck–a better life.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Four

Summary: After last night you don't know where you stand but tensions are still high and you don't know what you really want. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 5.6K~ Warnings: Smuuuuttt, Explicit Language and a crap ton of pet names (I'm sorry okay I love pet names lmao) Same warning as before cuz ya'll wanted more smut haha. Horribly edited too so have mercy on me y'all I just wanted to get it out. a/n: Aw shit here we go again 🤣 Anyways ya'll asked and I delivered lmao so another smut chapter but next one is gonna be mainly plot alight 😂 gotta save some more smut for later 🫢 Requested by: @kkusadmirer 💜

Waking up the next morning I feel incredibly disoriented. 'Where am I? How did I get here? Why am I naked?' and at that last question I feel all the memories of last night rushing back to me.

Echos of the pet names and praises and the ghost of his fingers all along my body make every cell in my body buzz with need for more. I've never done something like that, something so...scandalous and with and man almost twice my age at that.

I thought that if I ever did something like this before I got married I would've felt shameful but I feel confident...wanted by someone who respects me for who I am and wanted nothing in return. It felt different that I thought it would've, having him hover over me, meeting me with his heated gaze. I wanted him closer. I wanted him to crawl under my skin and give me everything.

It's selfish to say I wanted more because he owes me nothing, he's given me so much and what have I given him in return? Nothing...

He says I've given him plenty but I still feel unworthy of his kindness. I have to do something to show him my thanks, to show him that I'm grateful for everything he's given me. I just don't know where to start.

~~~~~

Getting up and out of bed after I get my bearings was more difficult than I thought it would be. I felt almost a little sore from what we had done last night and I don't know if I should love or hate the sensation. Should I be mad that it got rough enough to cause this feeling or should I feel excited from still having a sensation left over from the pleasure he had given me?

As I continue to go round and round in my head with more useless doubts that run through my head I'm suddenly met with a light knock on the door.

"Um, just a second" I panic, looking around for something to cover up and notice the silk robe that had been placed on the bed and throw it on without a second thought before telling him to come in.

He opens the door and takes in my form for a second, biting his lip at the barely there fabric covering everything he saw last night. "Good morning" he husks out, his voice sending a shockwave between my legs making me cross them unconsciously, which garners a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning" I squeak out, exposing my flustered state right away, cursing myself internally. "How'd you sleep?" he ask, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning up against the door frame, giving me space but somehow making his presence felt throughout the room.

"Amazing" I say, looking down at my feet in embarrassment, being honest but hating myself for it. "Yeah?" he prods, satisfied by my answer but begging to get that confirmation. "Yeah" I reply, nodding but still averting my gaze.

"Lunch is ready if you'd like to come downstairs. I check on you earlier to see if you wanted breakfast but you were still sleeping like a baby" he teases and if his voice alone didn't make me drop to the floor then that pet name at the end surely did.

"You alright?" he chuckles and I clear my throat before responding, knowing my voice would be no good if I tried to speak without doing so.

"I'm great, perfectly fine" I answer, glancing up at him before adjusting my robe and closing it around me even more. "I'll be waiting downstairs then. You can take your time getting dressed but you're also more than welcome to wear that all day" he taunts, pushing off the door frame and turning to leave after looking me up and down once more.

"I'll be down in a second" I call after him and wait for him to get downstairs before following the path he had just been on and running into my room, quickly but quietly shutting it behind me.

Leaning my head against the door I try to collect my thoughts and stop my racing heart that bound to explode at the next Baby, Bunny or Darling that's bound to come out of his mouth. 'It's just Jungkook. He's been nothing but nice to me and he seems like a really great guy.

We just need to talk and figure things out before something like that happens again' I coach myself and turn to face my room where I'm greeted with a freshly made bed and a single flower in a small vase.

'I can never catch a break with this man' I smile, shaking my head and dropping the robe to change into something more comfortable.

~~~~

"There she is" Jungkook say when he catches sight of me walking down the steps and into the kitchen where he has both of our lunches set out across the island from each other. "This looks so good!" I compliment the food he's made as he motions for me to sit down.

"I'm sorry it took me a while to come down" I apologize, sitting down and taking a drink of water before piercing a fork though the strawberry he has in a bowl full of fruit for us to share. "It's alright, I don't mind waiting for you. Seems like I tired you out last night so I'm glad you got some sleep" he say, smiling over the lip of his glass, making me choke on the next strawberry I had just placed in my mouth.

"You okay Darling?" he asks, handing me a napkin, with that last word aiding to my death by asphyxiation along with the strawberry lodged in my throat. "I'm fine" I choke out after a few more coughs and a drink of water.

"You seem rather jumpy today. Is something wrong?" he asks, tilting his head a bit and attentively waiting for my answer. "I'm fine, I think I'm still trying to wake up" I say, faking a yawn at the end to hopefully legitimize my claim. "Fair enough" he says, taking a bite of his food and grabbing his phone when it starts ringing.

"You can take that if you want" I say, taking a drink of water and glancing down at his phone before making eye contact with him. "No it's alright, I can take care of it later" he brushes off, silencing the call and taking a drink of water.

"So do you have any plans for the day?" he questions, looking at me as if I'm the most fascinating thing on earth. "Well, um, no not really. Do you?" I echo and when he goes to open his mouth to respond he's cut off by his phone ringing, not doubt from the same number again.

"Just take it. I'll be here when you get back I promise" I tease and he clears his throat, unbeknownst to me have flashbacks of when I asked him to take my virginity.

"It's for work, I'll be back soon" he says and I nod my head in response and close my eyes when he comes over to give me a kiss on the forehead like he's done time and time again but when I look up at him afterwards I see he hasn't made moves to leave.

His phone stopped ringing at some point which leave us with a lingering silence with so many words unsaid ultimately cut off by another incoming call. "I'm sorry" he whispers, his eyes glancing down at my lips before he turns around to head to his office answering with a curt 'What?' to whoever is on the other end of that call.

'I would hate to be that guy' I smile to myself, the vision of seeing him get mad comes to mind leaving my pressing my thighs together. 'Why am I so fucking horny these days?' I roll my eyes and continue eating my lunch, laughing at the sound of his frustration but hating that he's going through it at the same time.

~~~~~

It's been about a half an hour and he's still on the phone leaving me scrolling through mine until my brain feels as though it's turned to mush, a part of my brain occupied by him and only him.

As I hear another irritated sigh I decide I'll bring him some pain medication to help with the onset headache I'm sure he's having. It's gotta be a big problem if they're calling him on a Saturday morning.

I open the door slowly and peak my head in, being met with the sight of him with his laptop open and a mess of papers all over his desk. He looks up at me with an apologetic wince but waves me in nonetheless.

I raise my arms up, showing a full glass of water along with a bottle of pills and he mouths a silent 'Thank you' and I nod happily, proud that I made the right decision and place the glass on his desk while I open the pill bottle and drop a couple onto his palm to which he places them in his mouth and immediately chases it with the glass of water.

Watching as his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he gulps down the water has my head dizzy for some reason but I'm not sure why. While I'm trying to come up with an explanation some water spills on his cheek as he swallows the rest.

I feel as though my body has been taken over by an outer being because my reaction was to catch that stray drop of water off his cheek with my thumb and bring it to my mouth.

His eyes dart over to mine, wide in shock and leaving me feeling as though I'd done something wrong. My next move being to hightail it out of here but he stops me with a firm grasp on my hip, making me lean up against his desk next to him.

I make an effort to slip out of his hold but he gives me a warning glance, wordlessly telling me to behave and I do just that, shutting my mouth and watching as he works. He keeps a hand on my waist, making sure I'll stay, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my hip mindlessly where my shirt had risen up in my try to escape.

I do my best to keep my composure but the visions of last night flashing though my head makes it hard to control myself from rubbing my thighs together and I ultimately lose the battle.

Forgetting that he still has a hold on me earns me a knowing glance when he notices my actions, his gaze gradually getting more and more heated.

I lean back in an effort to get comfortable while I wait, my palms helping me balance on his desk behind me, leaving my chest sticking out a bit. I earn a tight squeeze on my waist as a warning to be patient and to stop squirming, which at the moment is very hard to accomplish with him looking so fucking sexy talking business with the man on the other line.

Was I relieved that it was a man calling him three times in a row on a Saturday afternoon? Yes, yes I was. It's none of my business though, nor do I have any grounds to have an opinion on it but his hand sliding up my waist says otherwise.

"Yes. Okay, okay alright was that everything? Okay well we'll pick this up on Monday morning. Thanks alright you have a good weekend too. Okay bye" he says, looking at me the whole time he finishes up his call, squeezing my waist now, making my breathing pick up and I know I'm in trouble when he hangs up the phone.

"You're a little minx you know that?" he says, turning his chair to face me and takes his hand off my waist only to slide it down my arms and hold my hand, placing kisses on my knuckles. "What do you mean?" I question, already breathless from the look of him sitting back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his gaze getting darker by the moment.

"You know what I mean. You came in here acting all innocent and helpful and next thing I know it you're licking water off my cheek? Seems pretty naughty Bunny. Don't you think?" he says while kissing the tips of my fingers, making sparks fly through my arms and straight to my head, keeping my gaze locked on his.

"I didn't lick it off your cheek" I say quietly but he lets out a dry chuckle in response. "Technicalities will get you nowhere sweetheart. Just admit that you wanted my attention, you were too impatient and couldn't even wait an hour for me to come back to you. It's okay, I won't laugh" he says, pulling on my hand and making me stumble onto his lap, my legs hanging over one of them.

"I- I just wanted to hel-" "I'm sure you did Darling and you were so thoughtful bringing me that medicine but I know you wanted something else huh?" he says while brushing away the hair that had fallen on my face when he pulled me down.

I shake my head but he cocks a brow at me, wordlessly telling me to tell him the truth so I in turn nod my head, admitting that deep down I did want his attention again.

"Now what was it that my Princess wanted? Did she just want attention or did she want to be touched again? Wanted me to take care of her again?" he taunts, taking note of all the times he's seen me rub my thighs together or get that breathless look on my face. I nod my head but he shakes his leaving me confused.

"If my Bunny wants something she's gotta use her words. Can you do that for me Darling? Can you use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me you want Daddy to touch you again?" he says, testing out a new name to call himself that's got me squirming again.

"Nuh uh none of that Darling, if you want something you've gotta ask for it. Now be a good girl and tell me what you want" he says, holding my hips in place, unbeknownst to me preventing me from rubbing my ass against him, still wanting to hold himself back.

His only priority and desire is to make me feel good and he wouldn't have it any other way. He knows I'm inexperienced and doesn't want to scare me away. He wants to take his time with me. 

"I want you to..." I start, trailing off from embarrassment, not being used to saying stuff like this let alone to someone as intoxicating as him.

"What was that Bunny? Didn't catch that" he presses, clearly enjoying the internal struggle that's shown all over my face. If he didn't know I had a shit poker face then he sure as hell knows now. No matter how you slice it he'll always be able to read me like a book.

"I want you to touch me" I whisper and he leans in as if he couldn't hear me but my lips at this point are inches from his, the slightest movement connecting mine with his.

"Lie back for me yeah?" he asks, his lips ghosting against mine before grabbing my hip and guiding me to sit on his desk before pushing all of his papers and laptop to the side dramatically making me laugh at the motion until I notice his laptop falling to the floor. His eyes follow mine and notice said device and simply shrugs.

"I can buy another one" he mumbles against my lips before connecting them in a short lived kiss as he guides me down, my back against his desk while he hovers over me. "You wanna try something else?" he says, watching my expression change from one of nervous excitement to intrigue.

"You trust me?" he questions, watching my face for any hesitation but finds none. "Yes" I say, nodding my head and he smiles before placing a kiss on my lips. "Close your eyes for me yeah? I promise I won't put it in. Well, not yet" he says and my eyes bug out at his words, my legs that are wrapped around his waist pull him even closer in an effort to close my legs.

"You like that? You like the idea of me claiming you as mine? Me being your first, your first everything" he says, leaning down and placing kisses on my neck, his warm breath against my sensitive skin driving me insane. I shudder at the feeling and he chuckles before placing a kiss under my ear, garnering another shudder in response.

"Answer me Bunny. You want me to be your first everything? Want me to learn and teach you everything you need to know about your body and what brings you pleasure?" he says while tracing his right hand along my torso, ghosting his fingertips along my waistband.

"Yes. Yes, I want you. Please just take it, take everything" I mumble and he tsks at me, again leaving me confused. "I'm not just gonna take everything. I'm giving you as much as I'm taking love. If you're letting me have you then you have me in return. Never forget that" he says and I nod my head. "I won't forget" I utter and he smiles in response before telling me to close my eyes again.

"Can I take these off bunny?" he asks in regards to my leggings and I mumble out a quick 'yes' trying to hold the whimpers at bay from the thought of me letting him have complete control over me. I know I have the power to stop everything but I wouldn't want to. Not with him.

As he slides everything off me he curses at the sight of me. "Fuck you're dripping" he rasps and I try to close my legs in response, now truly feeling that sense of vulnerability "You've gotta stay nice and still for me Darling. Can you do that?" he asks and I respond with a whimper which satisfies him, having mercy on me this time.

He drags a finger along my folds just as he had done before, gathering up my arousal before circling around my bud, gaining him a soft moan in response. "Be loud for me yeah? Wanna hear you moan my name" he prompts, wanting to hear what his name sounds like when it passes through my lips filled with ecstasy.

He doesn't wait for a response and just continues to play with me just as he did last night but as I feel myself getting closer he pulls away leaving me groaning from the feeling of getting that high again being taken away.

"Ready for something new princess?" he asks, caressing one of my thighs and placing a kiss on the inside of it. "W-wait!" I flinch nervously, not knowing how to feel about this. I've heard about it before but I never knew if it would be something that I'd like.

"You want me to stop?" he ask, pulling away a bit and letting me take control. "I'm scared, I-i I don't know what it'll feel like. I'm not sure if I'll like it" I admit, feeling as though I was about to cum just from the thought of him doing that to me.

"I can stop if you'd like, it's up to you princess. I wanna make you feel good and this is something I think you'll love. I know it's something I'd love to do to you if you'll let me" he says, coaxing me into it since he knows I'm just nervous, placing a few more kisses on my skin, this time switching to the other thigh.

I take a few breaths and think about it but decide to trust him, just as he asked me to. 

"I want you to do it" I let out, my cheeks burning up at the thought of what I'm asking for. "You want Daddy to eat you out?" he says smiling, loving the fact that I've still kept my eyes closed. I start to squirm, feeling his warm breath traveling further up my thigh, the anticipation driving me crazy. 

"P-please" I choke out, tears prickling my eyes as the intensity of the moment increases. "Patience Princess. Remember what I said about being loud?" he asks, his breath fanning directly over my core, making me lose all sense of feeling except for what he's barely doing to me. He hasn't even touched me and I'm about to cum. 

He leans in and gives a soft kiss to my clit, my legs spread wide and giving him full access to me. I take in a sharp breath at the sensation, my muscles locking up only for a moment but nonetheless catching his attention. 

"You want me to keep going?" he whispers into me, his nose nudging my clit, making me clench around nothing and he notices right away, utterly exposed to him. I moan out a ‘yes’ and he smiles, placing a kiss on my upper thigh before going back in, slowly making out with my clit, his tongue tracing circles around it before traveling down to my hole that's begging to be full. 

He licks inside me and watches my reaction, my brows drawn together and my lips parted, uttering curses when I feel him slip his tongue in further, the sensation driving me insane. My back arches off the table when he presses his face against me. His nose rubbing against my clit while his lip and tongue make out with my entrance. 

If I were to open my eyes now I bet all I could see was the world spinning around me, the feeling of being drunk on him being my drug of choice and I don't think I'll ever be able to live without it.

"Fuck Jungkook" I moan out, this being the first time I get close to screaming his name and he growls into me before going back to playing with my clit, making me do it again. "You sound so sweet Bunny, but you taste even sweeter" he groans, watching as my chest rises and falls in the baggy shirt I've still got on. 

"Do me a favor love and lift up your shirt, that's it. Wanna watch you play with your tits" he rasps out. Doing just as he asks I moan at the image of him watching me touch myself again, incredibly turned on by the though of it alone. 

"There you go, you're doing so good for me. Look so pretty laying here and letting me play with you in my office. Fuck you're driving me crazy" he praises making me whimper in response. 

"You like that? You like it when Daddy praises you? Like it when he tells you you're being so perfect for him? Pretty just wants to be worshiped doesn't she?" I let out a moan at the thought of him taking time and worshiping anything and everything about me. I try to close my legs again on impulse but he pries them open, growling at the thought of me hiding from him. 

"I'm not done with you" he says, biting the inside of my thigh leaving me arching my back off the desk again, squeezing my breasts and making him even hungrier for me if even possible. 

"Does my baby like pain? Does she want me to leave marks all over her as a reminder? A reminder of how you let me have my way with you while you were spread out for me on my desk. I'm not gonna be able to focus next time I have to work in here. Always gonna remember how sweet you taste and how adorable you sound"  he says, licking the area he just bit before sucking a mark into the same spot.

I groan at the feeling, the slight sting from the bruise making me want to ask him for more. To mark me everywhere like he said, always leaving a reminder. 

I scream at the feeling of him putting his mouth on me again, kissing, sucking, licking into me without mercy, catching me off guard by the intensity. I let out an incoherent string of curses, hoping he knows I'm begging for more and he moans against me, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout my body. 

"Don't stop, please please don't stop" I scream, the first decipherable words I've uttered in a while. On the cusps of ecstasy he growls into me when he sees me throw my hand over my mouth, embarrasses by how loud I'm getting. "Louder" he growls as a warning, not a request and so I do. 

I get louder and louder, screaming his name with curses being the only other words in my vocabulary. I feel as his movements get more intense, now using his fingers as well and moments later a wave of pleasure is crashing down, making me let out any and every sound I could possibly make, my voice getting softer and softer and I start to come down. 

Just when I feel like he's gonna stop he doesn't, he picks up the pace again which makes me whine in overstimulation, trying to wiggle away from him. 

"You can give me one more can't you?" he asks, pulling back only to lick a stripe into me, taking time to suck my sensitive bud into his mouth. "N-no no I can't" I say, shaking my head and trying to push him off and he pulls back and chooses to lean over me. 

"Just one more Bunny. I know you can" he encourages. Although I'm reluctantly saying no we both know I want to experience it, wanna experience coming undone one right after the other. 

He comes down and kisses me, making me taste myself on his lips and I can't get enough of him, I want to be good for him, I want him. I whine when he delicately runs his fingers over me again "You're so swollen but I'm sure you can handle it, can't you Darling?" he taunts. 

He pulls away from my lips and trails his down, kissing and sucking marks all over my chest giving me a bit more time to recover before deciding. "Yes, fuck yes" I moan when he greedily sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. My back arches again when he moans around it, making me desperately want to cum again, wanting it as much as he does now. 

"Want you to watch me this time. Can you do that?" he ask, giving me one last kiss on the lips before sliding his tongue down my torso, stopping to bite my hip, breaking me out of the daze I'd been left in, asking me to answer.

I nod my head and he luckily takes that as a response, going easy on me since I'm still not fully there after what he'd done to me. What he's still doing to me...

~~~

After he makes me cum again I lose all sense of reality and I can barely tell up from down. He leaves the room only for a moment to get a warm towel to clean me up and I take that time to catch my breath, staring at the celling and trying to wrap my head around what just happened. 

I jump at the feeling of him cleaning me up gently and he apologizes, going a little slower with a lighter touch, doing just enough before helping me sit up. "You with me?" he asks, steadying me as I still sit on his desk, swaying back and forth. 

I turn my eyes to him and blink sleepily, smiling and taking in his handsome features and notice how red and swollen his lips have gotten. 

"There she is" he coos, brushing my hair back and cupping my face, looking at me as if I was incredibly precious to him. Little do I know that that's exactly what I am to him. 

That's a conversation for another time though. For now he'll just enjoy the dazed and freshly fucked look I give him, laughing at how adorable I look. 

"You wanna bath?" he asks and I nod, making the corner of his lips turn up before he scoops me up. I cuddle into him and link my arms around his neck, enjoying the slight bouncing sensation I feel with every step he takes. 

After he ascends the steps with ease I watch as we pass by my bedroom door and get confused as to why he's not taking me to bathe in there. I frown at him and he chuckles shaking his head and walking the both of us into his room.

"My bathtub is bigger and more comfortable" he explains and I nod, tightening my hold on him for only a moment before he guides me to sit on the edge of the tub. 

"You want a bubble bath?" he asks, turning to look through his cabinet and pulls out two bottles, one that smell of lavender and the other of eucalyptus. I point at the lavender and he smiles, nodding his head and putting the other one back before walking over to turn the faucet on, adjusting it until it's just the right temperature. 

"Do you take bubble baths Mr. Jeon?" I tease, earning a playful glare that breaks into a smirk moments later. "Who says grown men can't tale bubble baths? And it's Daddy to you" he says booping me on the nose, giving me butterflies. 

"You like being called Daddy huh?" I tease again and he crouches down in front of me, putting us at eye level. "I dunno, sounded like you liked it back there too" he says, smirking when he sees me avert my eyes, this time placing a kiss on my nose before straightening up. 

"Arms up" he orders and I lift them up so he can take off the last piece of clothing I've got left. "Who's shirt is this?" he asks, taking note of the oversize fit. "It's mine" I say truthfully, too quick for his liking though, making him suspicious of me. "Uh huh" he says slowly before throwing it in the corner of the bathroom. 

With a look like that even I can tell that I won't be getting that back anytime soon. It really is my shirt though...

After he pours in the bubbles and I'm satisfied by their bubbliness (which he reminds me is not a real word) I get in and moan at the feeling of the warmth enveloping me. My muscles losing all of their tension as I breathe in the calming scent of lavender surrounding me.

"You enjoying yourself?" he chuckles, leaning up against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest just as he had done this morning and I gulp at the sight. "Yeah, I needed this" I say, sinking further into it and being swallowed whole by the bubbles. "Well just call me if you need me" he says but before I can stop myself I quickly tell him 'No'.

He tilts his head to the side and smiles softly, taking in the precious sight of me surrounded by bubbles with almost a panicked look on my face, showing my honesty in wanting him to stay. "Can you sit with me maybe?" I ask, looking down and playing with the bubbles, shy that I'm begging for even more of his attention. 

"Sure Darling" he says, grabbing a stool that was tucked in a corner and placing it right next to the tub so he can stay with me. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence I break it with the one question that's been on my mind since I felt the air shift between us. 

"Can I ask you a question?" I say, looking up at him, noticing that he's started to play around with the bubbles that rest high above the surface. "No" he answers, pushing a dampened strand of hair off my face. 

"What?" I freeze, surprised at his answer. "I know what you're gonna ask so no. You can't, not yet. Let's get you cleaned up and well rested before we go there, alright?" he asks giving me a sad smile, so many words left unsaid behind those eyes, begging to be released.

I wait for a moment, studying him and notice that he looks almost...vulnerable. Something I had never seen from him before so I decide to just nod my head, returning the same smile before leaning back against the tub and sinking in a bit further, the water now just below my nose. 

"Aye! Don't you go drowning on me in there" he chuckles and my eyes smile, glad my efforts of lightening the mood had worked. 

Taking it a step further I choose violence and splash him, making the bottom of his shirt get wet. He gasps at the action and puts his hand over his chest "I make you a nice bath and this is how you repay me? The audacity!" he says dramatically before giving me a splash in return leaving me gasping just as he had done.  

After exchanging a few more splashes and laughs we call it a truce and we sit there talking and joking around until the water goes cold, going back to that sense of normalcy that I was so scared that we might've lost... 

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[tinytinyblogs]

Can i rq more stray kids yandere please! The theme is "What upsets them/What they hate that you do the most" so for example, being disobedient, pushing him away, yelling at him etc

Do it again, and things will get ugly.

Yandere skz not pleased with your little habit—make sure you understand that.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬I apologize for the delay. A few unexpected things came up, which slowed me down a bit, but I'm working to get everything completed as quickly as possible. I hope this works well for you!

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

As you casually mentioned that you could go alone to get the groceries, Chan's eyes darkened, and without warning, he grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding. He pulled you toward him, pushing you against the wall with a surprising intensity. You could see the frustration simmering beneath his gaze, a storm of emotions brewing as he looked down at you. His jaw clenched, and there was a raw, unfiltered intensity in his voice as he spoke, revealing just how much your independence grated on him. "Why do you always do this?" he murmured, pressing you firmly between his arms, caging you in. "I don’t get what’s going through your head. Do you really think I can't protect you? That you don’t need me?" The pain in his voice was unmistakable, a mixture of anger and something deeper. Day after day, he tried to reconcile his feelings, tried to understand why you insisted on doing everything on your own. And each time you pulled away, each time you chose independence over reliance, it stung.

To him, it felt like rejection, like you were pushing him out of your life, bit by bit. "Sometimes," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "you make me feel like… like I don’t matter." The vulnerability in his words was rare, something he rarely let anyone see. He looked at you with an intensity that spoke volumes, waiting for you to understand the weight of his feelings. “I hope you understand this clearly,” he began, his voice low and unwavering. His face inched closer to yours, so close you could feel the heat of his breath as it brushed across your skin. The intensity in his eyes made it hard to look away, though every instinct told you to. “From this point forward,” he continued, his voice slipping into a hushed but commanding tone, “I don’t want to see you acting so stubborn, pretending you’re untouchable, or saying ‘no’ to anything I ask of you. No matter what it is I offer, you understand?” His words cut through the air like a blade, each one aimed directly at you, making your heart thunder in your chest.

A chill washed over you as he moved even closer, his gaze intense and unwavering, holding you captive in the space between his words. His voice dropped to a whisper, so low and intimate that it felt like it was wrapping around your heart, making it race. The closeness, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, sent a shiver down your spine that you couldn't shake. He looked at you with an expression that held something dark, something possessive, as though he could consume you with a single thought if he chose to. “And if you dare make me feel unwelcome, like you think you can just brush me off,” he murmured, his voice a quiet, simmering threat, “then I can’t promise I’ll stay the version of myself you’ve grown comfortable with—the soft, understanding one.” His eyes bored into yours, holding you there with a force that felt almost physical, leaving no room for argument. "That side of me," he continued, his voice barely above a breath, "might disappear if you keep pushing me away. I’ll be someone you may not recognize, someone you won’t find so easy to dismiss." His words lingered in the air, thick with a warning that left your skin tingling.

Minho

In one swift, unexpected movement, Minho’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you away from your friend mid-sentence, not caring that the conversation was still unfinished. His grip was stronger than ever, bordering on possessive, and you could feel the tension radiating from him. Your heart raced, sensing his obvious displeasure. Since day one, he’d known about this particular friend of yours—the one you’d been close with for years—and from the start, it had grated on him, an irritation he’d made no attempt to hide. He had always insisted it was unnecessary, that your closeness with anyone else, especially this friend, was something he couldn’t stand. “No more getting too close with other people. You got it?” His voice was low and firm as he turned to face you, his hand finding its way to your waist and gripping a bit tighter than usual. The intensity in his gaze left no room for misunderstanding. His irritation was palpable, every word dripping with a controlled frustration. "I’m so sick of that friend of yours," he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he held your gaze.

"It’s not like you don’t know how I feel about it, right? You’re smart enough to understand, aren’t you?" The words were more a challenge than a question, his tone making it clear he expected nothing less than your compliance. The way he looked at you made your pulse quicken, his hand still firmly on your waist as if to anchor you in place. You could feel the weight of his unspoken warning; he didn’t want any interference between you two, and he wasn’t about to tolerate any more closeness with others. The message was clear—Minho wasn’t about to compromise on this. “I must be giving you too much freedom, or am I just being too soft with you?” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in, his gaze dark and unyielding. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if studying your every move, and there was an unmistakable possessiveness in the way he spoke. Slowly, his hand reached up, fingers brushing gently through your hair, lingering as he tucked a stray strand behind your ear. The gesture was tender, almost gentle, but the look in his eyes told a different story.

“That smile, that laugh…” he said, his voice low and intense, “those are for me. Only me.” The words hung in the air, and his hand lingered by your face, his fingers brushing the side of your cheek before pulling back, leaving a trace of warmth in their wake. His gaze held yours, unblinking, as if daring you to challenge him. “Think about it,” he continued, his tone soft yet edged with a subtle menace. “If you’re really doing this on purpose, if you’re trying to test me, then don’t expect me to hesitate. That friend of yours…” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the air, his eyes darkening with a chilling intensity. “You still want him alive, right?” The question hung there, heavy with implication, making it clear that Minho wasn’t just making idle threats—he meant every word. The gravity of his warning wrapped around you like a vice, underscoring the lines he was drawing between you and anyone else who dared to encroach on what he deemed his territory. In that moment, it became painfully clear that your loyalty was being tested, and the stakes were higher than you had ever imagined.

Changbin

Maybe it's just you—the way you’re always so cheerful and carefree, playful to the point where it feels like a challenge to Changbin. Your bright energy seems to push against his need for control, the way you laugh off his requests or brush aside his warnings. He hates it when you say 'no' to him, even in a joking way, and he especially can’t stand it when you do something he’s specifically asked you not to, as if it doesn’t matter. To him, it does matter. Every little thing feels like a boundary you’re crossing, a line you’re too comfortable toeing. Tonight, he’s had enough. He’s sitting alone in the dimly lit room, waiting, his patience stretched thin. He heard you slip out earlier without a word, off to the convenience store for some late-night snacks, and with every minute that ticked by, his irritation only grew. By the time you come back, plastic bag in hand, his frustration has turned to a simmering anger. You push open the door and step in, a bright smile on your face as you greet him. But the smile doesn’t last. He rises from the couch, his movements slow and deliberate as he closes the distance between you, his eyes dark and unreadable. Without a word, he reaches out, snatches the plastic bag from your hand, and throws it across the room.

The sound of the bag hitting the floor, contents spilling out, cuts through the silence. "How many times do I need to tell you not to go out alone?" he demands, his voice low and edged with a sharp intensity. His gaze pins you in place, unyielding, like a storm just waiting to break. "You think it’s funny, don’t you? Running off like that, thinking it’s no big deal?” He steps closer, his expression hard, as if daring you to argue, to brush it off as a joke. The frustration in his eyes is more than just anger; it's a mixture of worry and exasperation, a deep-seated fear that something might happen to you out there, and he wouldn’t know until it was too late. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench as he struggles to keep his voice steady. "You don’t get it, do you?” he says, softer now, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Every time you do this, every time you decide it’s ‘not a big deal,’ you make it harder for me to trust that you’re safe. It’s not a game.” His words are filled with an intensity that borders on desperation, as if he needs you to understand, to take him seriously for once.

Standing there in the dim room, his gaze locked onto yours, you feel the weight of his protectiveness—how deeply he cares, how much he wants to shield you from anything that might harm you. To him, this isn’t just about control; it’s about the constant worry that grips him whenever you’re out of reach, the fear that something might happen when he’s not there to keep you safe. "I’m not giving you the option to say yes or no," he says, his voice steady and unyielding. "I suggest you listen to every single word I say." His eyes darken, the intensity in his gaze making his meaning clear. "If this keeps happening—if you keep ignoring me—I won’t have a choice. I’ll have to make sure you can’t leave, even if it means locking you in here until you understand." He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and there’s a hint of something possessive in his voice. "That smile of yours… you won’t be putting it on for anyone else if I have to take matters into my own hands." His tone leaves no room for argument, and the weight of his words hangs between you, filling the silence with a heavy finality.

Hyunjin

To Hyunjin, the idea of privacy between the two of you is almost laughable, a concept that doesn’t make sense in his world. You value your own space, little boundaries where you can retreat and breathe, but to him, privacy seems almost incompatible with how he views your relationship. In his mind, there should be no barriers between you two, no secrets, no gaps. He believes he has the right—no, the need—to know everything about you: your thoughts, your routines, even the smallest details of your day. This need overrides any respect for boundaries you try to establish, and the word 'privacy' simply holds no weight with him. He has a way of subtly, or sometimes not so subtly, inserting himself into every aspect of your life. He’ll stand uncomfortably close when you’re talking to someone, as though he’s silently marking his territory, ensuring that no one else holds even a fraction of your attention. If you’re scrolling through your phone or reading something that distracts you from him, he’ll casually snatch it away, his eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and insistence, as though everything you look at should be something he sees too.

He’s there when you text, lingering in the background, watching your expression and gauging every response. Sometimes, he goes even further, taking quiet steps to access things you thought were private. Maybe it’s a quick look at your messages when you’ve left your phone unattended, or logging into your accounts with a password he somehow learned without you knowing. And he does it all so calmly, convinced that these actions are justified, that they’re just small steps to keep you closer. For Hyunjin, privacy is a concept meant for other people, something irrelevant to the connection he’s created in his mind—a connection he intends to hold onto, no matter what it takes. "Enough," he snapped, tossing your phone against the wall with such force that it bounced and skidded across the floor. You flinched at the sound, your heart racing as you processed the sudden violence of his action. "I told you to stop with this obsession over privacy," he continued, his tone sharp and unyielding.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you until he was almost looming over you. His hand shot out, gripping your chin with a firm, unyielding force, tilting your face upward to force you to meet his intense gaze. “Once you’re mine, you’re mine completely,” he said, his voice low and possessive, resonating with a sense of finality. “You need to understand what that truly means.” His eyes bore into yours, a mix of determination and something darker swirling within them. “I need to know everything about you—every little detail, every thought. Nothing can be hidden from me.” The intensity of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the boundaries he was determined to erase. "One more word about privacy…" He paused deliberately, his gaze piercing through you, making sure you felt the weight of his statement. "No, if you dare to keep anything from me again, I’ll make sure you understand. I set the rules, and you will follow them." The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as he leaned in slightly, ensuring you understood the seriousness of his words.

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[kooki914]

Nobody asked and yet you're getting it anyway, my Dess interpretation! Tbf I love a lot of other people's Dess designs maybe more than my own based on complexity/symbology alone, but this is what my original take for her was so I'm sticking to it. Extremely long list of factoids for her under the cut!

Dess hasn't seen a hairbrush in 8 years.

Opening her first fountain was an accident, and so was entering the dark world, but it was something she desperately needed at that point. She was knighted by Spade King, before being dubbed the Roaring Knight by the general public after she opened the second fountain and people started (correctly) assuming she was trying to cause the apocalypse.

Dess is mtf trans! She was out since she was 9, and took puberty blockers for a while, but stopped after she disappeared because she, y'know, didn't have access to them anymore. Strangely, even though she's been off of them for so long, there's very few side effects. You can just see her Adam's apple sometimes and muscle mass started building for her easily, but that's it. She's silently grateful that her dad didn't pass down any beard-making genes.

The reason why it's been so mild is due in part because of the effect of being in the "void" for too long, aka the space so dark and isolated you can't even feel your own limbs. She was stuck in the code of the game, basically, and it's had adverse effects on her mentally and physically, the only positive effect being less testosterone production in her body.

The physical effects are odd. Though she's grown and her body's age is what it would've been if she never disappeared, she's still in the same clothes she was when she ran away, but they sized up with her. The black nail polish she had on is still there too, not even chipped. As previously mentioned, her hormones are out of whack but, somehow, she's still clearly a grown adult, as if she just went through a very, very mild puberty.

The mental effects of being stranded in the literal nothingness are as expected as they are odd. The standard effects of not having contact with another person for so long have, somehow, never taken hold. It's like the social part of her brain was just put on pause. However, part of the madness she DID get was her very much considering her memories might just be made up. As if she was always here and managed to, somehow, delude herself into thinking she had a life outside of this place, when she never did. Essentially, she stopped existing, but retained some level of consciousness.

The whole "not existing for a while" thing as well as the fact that she's pre-hrt trans means she absolutely hates mirrors. Give her a mirror and she'll give back about a hundred shards of it. When she was younger she usually just had dysphoria over looking too boyish (hence why she never cut her hair) but nowadays she has weird feelings about something as simple as Having Knees (the existential horror of having a body after being formless in the nothingness during your formative years).

Her journey as the Knight was mostly about rediscovering herself, trying to find purpose and trying to help the people around her. She spent her whole life feeling helpless, and wanted to destroy that feeling, for everyone. Her violent behavior was rewarded by the equally maladjusted Spade King, and they teamed up under the pretense of helping all of darkner kind.

Dess set out to cause the Roaring, per his instruction, without knowing what it even was. All she knew is that, apparently, she was the only one who could, and that gave her a sense of purpose. Once she learned it'd bring about the end of the world, she was so detached from the world that she carried on anyway, not concerned with the life that could be lost because, god, she spent so long outside it, how COULD she know what life was worth now?

Dess went by neutral pronouns (they/it) as the Knight because it was another mask she used to distance what she Knew of herself and what she Had to be (kind of like Asriel calling himself "Flowey" in Undertale, actually). Being called "her" was too familiarising and humanising, being called "he" made her break out into hives and start killing, so she stuck with the alternatives for utilitarian reasons. Somewhere along the way she got sick of it and started missing her feminine pronouns, but decided to just stick to the bit anyway. The world was gonna end soon anyhow, who cares?

Once she's out of the role of Knight and back in the light world, you bet your ass she's switching back to exclusively she/her. Fuck neutrality, this girl needs gender affirmative language.

Rediscovering music, and specifically playing and making music, was one of the things that helped Dess get back in touch with being a person again after the whole Knight debacle. She plays piano and harmonica of her own volition, and the violin because of her mom's insistence, but her true favourite will always be the guitar. She was a little small as a kid so playing it used to be difficult, but now that she's an adult having it in her lap is easy, and honestly it just makes her feel alive. One of those dreams she had as a kid that she forgot about along the way, y'know?

Her and Asriel were just family friends at first, but when they ended up going to the same class together too, they quickly became best friends. They were there for each other through everything, Dess got Asriel into games, he was there when she came out, and they were practically inseparable. Asriel was a hard worker and Dess was a super active sports kid, they balanced each other out well and were known as the highest achievers in their class, the golden kids.

Kris and Noelle got dragged into their adventures basically on accident, Noelle because Dess was the one babysitting her all the time, and Kris because they wanted to spend time with their brother. They often spent time outside together because Dess loved being anywhere but at home. She didn't mind Azzy's house, though. Kris was a lot to deal with sometimes and Dess scolded them in a lot of the same ways adults scolded her (minus the hitting them over the head with stuff, what was all her). She has no idea the impact she's had on their behavior.

She was always kind of violent, but when she was younger it wasn't really an issue, more like an excuse to get her into sports. She learned to act out because causing problems was the only context in which she'd get attention from her very busy parents. With Noelle specifically, Dess took on a semi-parental role and quickly developed a habit of taking on way more burdens than she could handle. Even with Asriel as a best friend and the Dreemurrs as a surrogate family, the control her mother Clarice commanded over her life was just too limiting. It all boiled over.

Dess started lashing out at other kids around when puberty hit, starting fights and genuinely hurting people. She never got expelled because her mother was the mayor, but Dess started getting grounded more and more often, which meant less and less time with her only real friend, and more with her very dysfunctional family. She loved Noelle, but her little sister became another responsibility, another liability that could get Dess in trouble, it was way too much for her to handle maturely when she was only 13.

Dess "disappeared" because she ran away from home. She hated living there, but neither of her parents could admit that, hence her disappearance being so "mysterious" to the other townsfolk, they genuinely thought she vanished from inside the house. It was only after Kris admitted they saw her in the woods near the bunker that night that the case got more complicated, and the legend only grew more terrifying.

Her original plan was to just catch a bus to out of town and hope for the best, but when she ran into the woods in pitch blackness, she couldn't find her way around. She was too reliant on light, and couldn't manage in darkness. She found the bunker in her aimless wandering and, hoping to sleep off the night and make up excuses in the morning, she went inside. She couldn't have known that nothing was in there.

The effects of her sudden disappearance rippled throughout the whole town. Most obviously, Asgore got fired for not being able to find her and Rudy quit his job to be a stay at home dad for Noelle's sake. Less tangibly, Asriel and Clarice both started burying themselves in work to avoid grief. Kris and Noelle socially shut down for a few years, it's why neither of them have any real friends other than the strained relationship they have with each other. Asriel took on Dess' habit of "be anywhere but home" when his parents started having marital problems, and Kris latched onto him even harder to avoid losing any more people in their life. Through all this, Dess was nowhere, silently wondering if anyone even noticed she's gone, if her life was even real to begin with.

One of the strange things that happened to her while stranded in nothingness was almost being able to hear someone mumbling to themselves. When she called out, the voice vanished, only to re-emerge an uncertain amount of time later and excuse himself for getting startled. He just doesn't get guests often, you see. And guests get him even more rarely. It was refreshing to hear a consciousness separate from her own, but his mind was even more broken than hers, unable to answer her questions about what was real and what was imagined as he seemed to think he himself was a product of unreality. Plus, he never really stayed for too long and he never wanted to talk about himself either, as if mentioning his own name could shatter him to pieces.

The reason Dess didn't lose her mind from to his influence like Jevil and Spamton did was because she's just fundamentally pragmatic. You can throw philosophy and existential questions at her all you want but as long as she talks and thinks, she exists, which means reality is Something, even if it's completely eluding her grasp. It might also have something to do with her being a (homestuck warning) Void player, meaning the idea of the innate meaninglessness of life and unanswerable questions about reality itself don't really sound earth-shattering to her.

She used her knife to open fountains at first, the one she brought with her from the light world, but along the way she picked up a rapier and decided it was way cooler than a knife so it's her go-to now. She's not actually that good with swords, though. She uses them like baseball bats. Despite this, Spade King still praises her as if she's the best warrior they've seen in generations. It might've gone to her head.

Her relationship with King is fundamentally a mentor and a student. He gave her flawed information, but taught her a lot about herself, the world she found herself in, and the role she could choose. And, that's the most important part, he let her CHOOSE, because he was genuinely under the impression that she was just a really powerful darkner and not a lightner. His strictness and high standards reminded her of her parents, mostly her mom, but his willingness to give HER control over her own destiny is what made her favour him over every other adult in her life. Discipline that treated her like a valued person rather than an asset was basically unheard of for her until then. Plus, reminding her of her parents gave Spade the bonus of every time he encouraged her on anything it'd activate the "parental approval" neurons in her brain that were terribly starved up to that point.

From Spade's point of view, the Knight (as a darkner) is everything he wants to be, but can't be. At first he mentored her mostly as an excuse to live vicariously through her, but in getting to know her better he discovered they have a lot more in common than he first thought. Unregulated emotions, unresolved pasts, the constant feeling that you need to do More and Louder in order to make any kind of impact... he started to genuinely care about her. If/when he's redeemed, finding out the Knight has been a lightner this whole time might not even be that much of a betrayal. Seeing her face and learning her name as she apologies for lying is like reconnecting with his own wounded, younger self. Letting it be water under the bridge means he doesn't lose connection to himself again, doesn't lose connection with his best student. Plus, December IS a nice name.

She met Lancer, but didn't pay him much mind. She was busy with overthrowing the other Kings and was too tired to be a babysitter again. Due to her rancid vibes as the Knight (and the fact that she quickly became the favoured child even though it wasn't her intention) Lancer doesn't like her that much. She left Card Kingdom pretty quickly, anyway (Spade's advice to seek another worthy kingdom to grant a fountain to), so she never got much of a chance to get to know him, even if she wanted to.

Her relationship with Queen is even more fraught. Due to Queen's tendency to mimic the "mother" personality for every lightner she meets individually, as well as her more Explicitly Controlling tendencies, Dess quickly became rebellious and then antagonistic towards her. Queen tried to choose FOR her, to get her to open fountains on HER terms, and Dess wasn't having it. Yes, following Queen's instructions would've caused the Roaring much, MUCH sooner, but, like. Not at ALL in a satisfying way.

She has no idea who Gaster is. When asked, she'll assume he's a Darkner. If asked about the man in the nothingness, she'll shrug it off. Now that she's out, she doesn't know if he's actually real or something she just made up in her head, though she laughs that off as well. "I sound a lot like him when saying that, huh?"

Learning Asriel goes to college is complete whiplash for her. Her sense of time is WRECKED. Like, yeah, she can wrap her head around Noelle and Kris being teens now, but ASRIEL??? What do you MEAN he's not still stressing over chemistry exams and cramming for spanish class, and is, like, actually studying something he's interested in???? Unheard of.

She makes fun of him SO much for his little beard stubble, dude. It's all in good fun, but like, you can only be called "mini Asgore" so many times by your childhood best friend before it starts to cut deeper. On the flipside he has literally nothing bad to say to her. She nearly caused the apocalypse, but like, he gets it. He would've done the same in her shoes (hooves??). He thinks her Dark World armour is so kickass and he could never pull it off like she can.

Unsurprisingly Asriel has a crush on Dess. He always kinda had one, even when they were kids, but reconnecting as adults just Fully bashed him over the head with the fact that he's had repressed feelings for her and he has NO idea what to do about it. He's anxiety incarnate and thinks Dess already KNOWS he has a crush on her and just isn't saying anything because she's playing it cool, or doesn't wanna hurt his feelings, or thinks he's too lame to date or something. He thinks she's the coolest person who ever lived and has no idea how to cope.

Meanwhile in reality, Dess is a clueless aro/ace. She doesn't really know what having a crush even means. She thinks being a couple is, like, flirting and fighting behind closed doors (you can tell the only couples she knew personally were her parents and Asriel's parents), so she thinks it's just exhausting and doesn't know why anyone bothers. When Noelle tells her she has a crush on Susie Dess is like "Hell yeah, love is love........ wait do you mean you like her or you want her to crush you with a boulder" and Noelle sweats for a while before replying with "b-both?"

Dess has never been to Castletown. Most likely will never go.

Her and Kris reconnecting is a bit awkward at first, mostly on account of the fact that Kris and their posse are the ones that had her bash her over the head as the Knight to get her to behave in the first place, but Dess doesn't really focus on that. Kris thinks they hurt her, she just thinks of them as a little hero. Susie kinda helps facilitate them talking like people again, at least at first, because she has no baggage with Dess other than hitting her with an ax over dark fountains and getting stabbed in return, but like... Out of all the people they fought Dess is the only one who actually said sorry for being a jackass, so it's all good in Susie's book. Kris is just happy to have Dess back, man, that bunker and their memory of it has been haunting them for entirely too long, now.

Like Kris and Asriel, Dess learned how to play piano in church. Unlike them, and unlike Noelle, Dess has actually become fully agnostic after her time in the void. If there IS an angel looking out for her, it certainly isn't one that could've helped her, so what's the point of worship? Plus, Asriel and Noelle are two angels looking out for her as is! Why add divinity to that? (I am extremely subtle, I know.)

To this day, she's still apologising to Asgore for getting him fired. He is still apologising for not being able to find her. It's a pity party.

No-one tell her parents but she smokes weed. Once she reformed from being the Knight, she had a lot on her mind, man, weed is the most harmless thing she could've taken to cope. Seam is a good dealer, they have the good stuff.

She's absolutely called King "dad" by accident before. He doesn't really mind. No-one tell Rudy though, he's gonna be pissed.

On that note, I feel the need to add that she was never as close to him as Noelle was, because he only really started being an active parent after Dess went missing. It's kinda tragic, and he feels REALLY guilty about it, but if he ever verbalises that guilt he's gonna actually crumble into dust. His confidence is all a mask as is, actually admitting that he was kind of garbage at being a dad with his first kid is just gonna make it so much worse. But, until Dess hears an apology, she's not really gonna be able to actually mend their relationship, so they're at an impasse.

Inversely, her time away from the light world kinda made Dess forget the way her mother acts. She sorta got a bit of "once away from the abuser you forget the abuse", especially knowing she herself was a kid when it all happened so she kinda started justifying her mother's actions to herself when away from her. After like 2 weeks of living with her again Dess fully remembers why she ran away and packs her bags to live literally anywhere else. Preferably with King if that's an option, though that might just make Lancer move out as well.

She doesn't know what minecraft is.

[thesirencult]

Pick A Card Reading: Your Soulmate's Letter To Santa About You 💌

PILE 1

Dear Santa,

I want to thank you for my gift from last year, lol. She is amazing.

She makes me happy and puts a smile on my face. Sometimes I smile so hard my cheeks burn.

I've never felt happier in my life.

The way she talks, the way she moves, the way her eyes brighten up when she looks at a puppy or a piece of chocolate pie, they all drive me wild.

I want to be there for her, this Christmas and every other Christmas after this one. I want to buy her a house as a gift and a ring to go with it, maybe even a car? She doesn't like to drive that much but my baby has to have everything she wants.

What she wants she will get. I love her. I adore her. She owns my heart and soul. I'm proudly whipped.

Thank you Santa, I'll take care of her heart ❤️

~ Your soulmate is a provider. They must be a "golden retriever" type of person. I'm hearing "here comes the boy!". When you first meet them you won't expect to fall so hard for them. They have a compatible sense of humour with you.

PILE 2

Hey Santa Baby,

Am I in the naughty list? Great!

This year I put up with no bs and I said "bye" to everything that held me back. I let go of the old stories and left the world behind.

Well, not the whole world, because I met that special someone and they are amazing. I'm writing down my goals for next year and I want one of them to be to deepen my relationship with my soulmate.

I know that they are special, I'm not crazy! I consciously make the choice to commit to them. I feel like we are twin flames and can not wait to explore they way their mind works.

I want to help them unlock their potential. They are a force to be reckoned with and they don't even know it.

Bye, for now!

~ Your FS (yup, they are) is someone who could very well be a motivational speaker or a content creator in that space. They love doing challenges like 75 hard and lighting up other people's fire. They could also be an athlete or ex athlete. You will love this person's practical nature and approach in life. This person is also very spiritual and they probably have heard of Ayahuasca and other popular terms etc. They remind me of a Tech Founder in silicon valley who is I'm woowoo stuff (no worries, I'm the woo woo stuff).

PILE 3

Santa,

I'm ready to move on from this year. My faith is stronger than ever before.

I've wished for so many things in the last few years. Many of them manifested into my life but one thing still hasn't showed up yet and I'm very bumped because of that.

Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for the life I live and lead. I have almost everything I've wished for but that almost is killing me.

I know she is out there. I've felt her energy before. Since I was a child, whenever I looked up to the stars, I felt this overwhelming connection with someone. This invisible string tagging at my heart at all times. No one has ever made me feel this way and I know that it is unfair to say that for my previous partners but I miss her. I miss someone I've never met. Can you please bring her to me this year? I don't want anything else but my love to come back to me in this lifetime.

I know that the time to meet her is coming. I can feel it, but make it as fast as you can. Please.

I have a lot of goals for the year, especially financial ones. I'll try to focus on them until she comes. Where is she? Where is my love?

I will know she is here when I lay my eyes on her. My heart will speed up and the world as I know it will shutter. Shutter my world darling. I don't care. I made that world by myself and it is time we build our own world together.

P.S. Send loving energy to my soulmate, they need it. Tell them I will buy them their gift myself next year, but for now... This, sadly, has to do.

~ Awww your soulmate is very sweet and... depressed! They don't show it to anyone though but when they are alone at night they drink a glass of wine and think about you. They would want you to be there.

This person is very, stoic and "protected". That give me "military" vibes even if they have nothing to do with the military. This inability to outwardly express their feelings. You will baby them a lot and it is going to look comical but they will love it. Your FS might be older and taller than you and people will laugh when they see how much of a baby they become around your presence. They are very tired of being lonely. Don't get me wrong, this is not someone mopping around, they are just a "closeted" romantic. They hide their true feelings and you will know they love you because they will do acts of service for you or you will catch micro expressions. As soon as you enter in an official relationship they won't be able to keep their hands away from you.

[sonotpattismith]

i'm still your girl (satoru gojo x reader)

if you have to leave— I wish that you would just leave because your presence still lingers here, and it won’t leave me alone.

word count: 7.5k inspired by: dancing with your ghost by sasha alex sloan & my immortal by evanescence warnings: angst, mentions of death, mourning, depression, smut, 18+ a/n: AHHH I LOVED THIS ONE SO MUCH! I really wanted to do something a little spooky for Halloween, even if it wasn't officially halloween themed :( I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts! ILY!

You tried to ignore him at first. He would stare back at you through your reflection in the mirror, just as he once did when the two of you would get ready for bed. He used to smile at you over his foamed toothbrush when he’d catch you staring at him, mumbling unintelligibly with his mouth full of suds. It made you laugh nonetheless, and he would lean over to spit into the sink before repeating himself with a teasing glint in his sparkling eyes. 

Why stare at my reflection when you’ve got the real thing here, sweetcheeks?

But Satoru had been dead for two months, and he no longer had anything to say about the way you stared blankly back at his reflection. 

You cried the first time you had seen him. It was just in your peripheral as you climbed into what was once his side of the bed. His dominating presence loomed in the doorframe, as if awaiting an invitation to come join you. In the haze of your mourning, having only been back at you and Satoru’s shared home for three days since he’d been gone, you thought perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. Still, there was no mistaking those glowing eyes and their tendency to follow you across whatever room you were in. 

That night, you could only pull the covers over your head, too afraid of the fragility of your own sanity to dare take another look. His presence lingered though, the waves of his energy enough to leave you trembling underneath the comforter, tears spilling onto the plush pillow that still held his scent. You never peaked out, but a part of you knew he never left that night, lingering in the doorway and haunting you once you’d successfully cried yourself to sleep. 

It went on like that for a while. You believing your sanity was simply waning in his absence, him believing you simply didn’t see him. So, he watched as you trudged through life— if that’s what you could call your melancholy existence holed up in what once was a shared space— trapped behind the perceived veil of life and death that his abrupt departure had left the two of you in. 

There wasn’t a definitive moment when he determined that you could in fact see his silent figure observing you and feel his energy weighing down the air around the house. It came in waves; Satoru would notice how your sidelong glances toward the corner of the room lingered too long to be considered just a sweep around the room. He took note of the way you’d avoid facing the door at night when you’d pretend to be sleeping. 

One night, as you laid on the sofa, dark-rimmed eyes mindlessly fluttering across the television screen, perhaps your grief had simply outweighed the logical part of your mind that said giving into delusions— no—hallucinations, was not a good call for your already declining mental state. Your feeling conscious enough to turn on the television was a new development, one that Satoru was grateful for. He wasn’t sure how long he could watch you stare stiffly up at the ceiling, only an occasional sigh or sniffle that told him you were still breathing. 

Your thumb ticked over title after title, not even bothering to read descriptions or watch trailers before you passed them up. The gentle clicking noise was beginning to scratch at his ears, and, if he could still bleed, he was sure it’d be covering his jaw and neck by now. But then it stopped. Glancing up from his unwavering gaze on your slumped figure, his cerulean eyes landed on the sight of what once was your favorite Halloween movie to watch together. It had become a tradition, every year around this time, the two of you would pull out the matching pajama pants he’d bought for you on your first fall together just for the viewing occasion. 

You would always pretend to be irritated with him as he leaned into your ear and dramatically recited every line as they were being acted out. Delicate hands would push at his face as you repressed an amused smile. He’d only turn his theatrics up a notch, letting out a blood-curdling scream in tandem with the main actresses— so loud it made you glad you two had moved out of your apartment and into a house just two years into your relationship. Your boisterous laughter would fill the room as he tackled you into his lap, shaking your shoulders dramatically. 

The memory hung in the space between you. On the screen before you, the title lingered, taunting the both of you with broken promises of what would have been your fifth year watching it together. The man’s gaze was pulled from the screen when he saw your head tilt out of the corner of his eye. Your cheek was still smushed against the cushion, but you had angled it just so, and he could swear you were staring at him from your peripheral— waiting, inviting. 

Satoru stepped forward, eyes never leaving your face as he sank down into the spot by your feet. It was the first time the both of you had acknowledged the arrangement fate had thrust upon you. Your eyes, now brimmed with tears, returned to the screen as you pressed play on the movie. 

You didn’t understand what he was. The first thought was a hallucination, but as his energy lingered, and you felt the warmth of his thighs against your feet as the film shot bursts of color and sound throughout the morose living room, you began to think that perhaps he was more real than you were giving your psyche credit for. 

The second theory was a curse, conjured up from the macabre sense of loss and void that had tunneled within your chest since his death. How fitting, you thought, to have your love haunt you in the very form of what brought him to his end. As you pretended to watch the movie, keeping a watchful peripheral eye on the man at the end of the couch, you decided you didn’t care enough to find out. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be strong enough to exorcize him should your theory be correct. It felt nice to have him here with you, soulbound or not. 

Your subtle acknowledgement of him did nothing to shift the silent stares and subtle invitations into something more— both of you too fearful of what it would mean if you did. So, he still stalked behind you as you brushed your teeth every night, and he awaited your subtle nod as you picked out your nightly cinematic reminder of what you two once were. 

It began eating away at him. He’d watch your phone light up with messages, ring with calls, all from your friends begging to know how you were doing, if there was anything they could do for you. Each time though, you’d barely glance at the device before sighing softly. It felt as though the phone weighed a ton, and it would surely take all your energy to simply acknowledge them. You would get back to them tomorrow, you thought to yourself yesterday, as well as the day before that. 

It was becoming too much— watching the shell of the woman he loved— loves— wither away at the hands of his own demise. Satoru wondered if it would have been easier on you had you been given a proper goodbye, but at the time, he was too cowardly to face you with the notion of it. Although the sorcerer had been prepared to go toe to toe with the king of curses, he couldn’t find it in him to prepare you for the possibility of his own death. 

He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you out of your trance— to tell him it wasn’t all because of him. You couldn’t have tossed away your soul because of him. 

The credits of the movie you’d been idly watching rolled to completion, and your eyes remained glued to the screen as though reading each name as it slowly dragged down. The television screen faded to black before the film restarted from the beginning. Satoru watched, waiting for you to grab the remote, change it, move, blink, cry— anything. Lights flashed across your blank face as the familiar title card played, and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Although he wanted to shout, scream at you to snap out of it, nothing would come out. As he attempted to push the breaths up his chest and out his throat with some semblance of a plea, it was as if an imaginary force had its fingers wrapped around his neck, halting any wish he had to get through to you. 

His chest rose and fell dramatically, snowy brows furrowing in frustration, and he kicked at the coffee table, sending it rumbling across the living room to hit the entertainment center with a deafening crack. The television shook but steadied after just a moment. Those gleaming eyes remained transfixed on you though— you hadn’t even flinched. Blinking slowly once, and then a second time, and your head slowly turned to meet his eyes straight on for the first time since his death. 

It caught him off guard. Of course, there were countless moments when your sidelong glances and hitched breaths let him know that you sensed something was amiss. Still, you had never dared look into his eyes— never made him feel as though he was really still with you. 

“Stop it, Satoru.” 

It was a flat demand— a test. Would he listen to you? Could he hear you? Did he care? 

Straightening his back against the couch, he stared unblinkingly at you for a moment before slowly standing up from his spot. His eyes didn’t leave yours once as he crouched down to grab the leg of the table and pull it back to its respective spot. He stood still facing you for what felt like hours. With each second that passed, your lip would slowly twitch, and your eyes would soften— because fuck, was he really there?

And then he held his hand out to you with a barely noticeable hesitance, and you didn’t seem to care any longer if he was just in your mind, or if he was a curse, or a ghost, because your fingers were trembling as they traced across his palm— and he was warm, and he was your Satoru. For that moment, his body hadn’t been torn to pieces because it was pulling yours off the couch. His lips weren’t cold and blue, because they were pressing against your forehead as your tears began to fall in salty, stinging waves down your cheeks. Satoru wasn’t dead, because he was right here, and your arms were twisted around the very torso that had been sliced clean off of him. 

Trembling sobs racked your frame as you pulled yourself up with desperate hands on his shoulders, wanting nothing more than to crawl inside of him and hide from the heinous idea that your lover was dead. His hands grasped at your thighs to pull you up, and you cried into his collarbone, tears and snot mixing grotesquely against him so much so that you didn’t notice the pulse you used to press kisses to was no longer there. 

“You said goodbye to everyone!” You cried pounding at his back as he carried you silently toward your bedroom. “I didn’t get anything. You knew— you knew, Satoru!”

Despite his not being able to speak, he still bit his tongue at your accusations. Slowly, he settled down on his side of the bed, clutching you close to his chest as you fought to pull away in order to glare down at him, venom and grief mixing arbitrarily in your veins. You weren’t sure it was him, if he could speak or even understand what you were saying anymore, but you had so much anger in you for how he left things. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Warn me?” Your words were being muffled behind your gritted teeth as he finally released the firm grip he had on the back of your head. Balled up fists beat weakly against his chest, though they never hurt him when he was breathing, so they certainly couldn’t hurt him now. “Why didn’t you say goodbye to me?”

He couldn’t speak to explain to you his cowardice and talk you through that crack in your voice. So, he sat up and pulled you into him, pressing his lips against yours as your salty tears seeped into the crevices of his mouth and coated his tongue with your grief. Those familiar fingers creeped up your neck to grasp at your jaw, prying your mouth open as though he could breathe into you every regret he’d left behind. 

Your cries slowly died out against his open mouthed kisses, and you found yourself messily reciprocating, desperate for any distraction from the reality you’d been living in for weeks. His thumbs wiped roughly at each tear that slipped down your cheek, having had his fill of being the cause of them for so long. 

“I love you.” You cried against his tongue, raking your nails through his feathery hair and inhaling deeply through your nose. He didn’t smell like himself anymore— he didn’t smell like anything. Any supplement of him would do though, and your hands dipped down to pull his tshirt off. Those enrapturing eyes stared back at you longingly once the fabric was yanked over his head, and he wanted nothing more than to say it back to you. For now though, you were okay to fill that void in his unwilling silence. “I still love you, Toru. Please— stay.”

Satoru wasn’t sure the morality of his decision, but he knew it had been weeks of aching to reach out to you, and now you were here in his arms, arching against his wandering hands and forgetting that his body was being eaten away at by worms and vermin. Perhaps, he thought as he slid his old shirt over your head and buried his face into your chest, this is exactly why he had been barred from whatever afterlife had been awaiting him. He’d always heard that old expression, the superstition that no one soul can pass on with unfinished business to attend to. Had he barricaded his own soul to the land of the living when he failed to prepare you for his death? Was your grief keeping him here?

If so, he selfishly hoped you’d never recover, because the man who was once the strongest wasn’t sure he was strong enough to leave you— not with how your soul seemed to mesh with his as he settled you over his aching length, hoping to fill the void your mourning for him had created. If Satoru was bound for Heaven, he wasn’t sure that whatever was promised would come close to the holiness of your sweet moans against his ears and your nails’ stinging purchase of his shoulders. 

He’d never leave again, the phantom thought as he watched you sleep that night, curled around his arm as though he might ascend before you woke. There was a serenity in your soft features that had been noticeably missing in his absence, but it was there in your parted lips and gently settled brows as his fingers continued to rake through your hair. You hummed quietly in the midst of your slumber and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, and Satoru vowed he’d haunt you to your grave if it meant you’d never be apart again. 

You woke with a start the next morning, a gasp of your lover’s name tumbling from your lips as you shot up in bed. Tears were already threatening to pierce your eyes at the thought that what you had experienced last night was simply a dream— placed torturously into your psyche to feed the black hole of your grief. Whipping your head to the side, you were met with Satoru’s awaiting gaze as he sat against the headboard. Despite your startled state, his lips still curled up at the sight of your barely conscious appearance.

Your hair clung to your cheeks and swayed into your bleary eyes as you attempted to blink away the sleep. It almost gave an energy of a bear that had just risen from a week long hibernation, but he couldn’t blame you as he’d lain witness to the sleepless nights that had plagued you the past few weeks. The comforter slipped from your shoulders, bearing your silken skin and plush chest to him. Acting on a carnal instinct the sight of you seemed so expert at pulling from him, he grasped at the small of your back to pull you into him. 

Your contented hum drifted into his ears as you settled against him once again, your skin still warm with sleep as it pressed against his own. Satoru didn’t realize how much he had been missing when he was still alive and had the weight of the world on his shoulders— rarely ever having gotten the privilege of lazing beside you as you awoke in the mornings. Most of the time, he was still working when you laid your head down to sleep, and he was already gone by the time you woke up. He’d only steal gentle kisses against your temple and wanton brushes of his palms up your thighs and waist as you slept before he’d slip into bed beside you. Now, he was quickly realizing as you pressed lazy kisses against his chest, trailing up his neck and jaw, that those stolen intimacies and rushed affections were never enough. He’d haunt you forever, the ghost vowed once again. 

Your since somber days were filled with something comforting, and, despite the five years you two had spent together prior to his death, this connection was new and warm— exciting. At one point you had even joked with him that you never saw him this much when he was alive, and he could only smile teasingly at you as he watched you devour your breakfast. You ate with an urgency he hadn’t seen in you the last few weeks, and it settled the guilt in his stomach. No, Satoru wasn’t being selfish in holding onto you, this was for you. 

The two of you welcomed the days that followed with open arms. No matter how morbid the circumstances, it was a relief compared to the atrocities you’d faced when he was still the strongest. You watched the list of movies the two of you had always put off, stayed in bed until the late hours of the morning just to make love to each other, lounged pressed up against the other in the steaming bathtub until your fingers wrinkled and the water was as cold as his corpse. 

Satoru’s lips curled into an easy smile as you shivered against him. His large hands created a soft splash as he lifted them from the water to run them down your trembling shoulders. You tilted your head back against his chest to look up at him with pleading eyes. 

“C’mon, Toru, I need to get under the covers asap.” You laughed eagerly, moving to push yourself up. His brows furrowed, and he pulled you back against him. It was another little moment that he wished he could say he missed from his time of living, but it was an intimacy he rarely had the time to share with you. He curled his fingers around the plush flesh of your arms and pressed a soft kiss against the nape of your neck as if to coax you to stay just like this for a moment longer. You sighed softly, tilting your head forward to allow him more access to the delicate skin you prayed he’d continue to explore. “You’re not cold?”

This gave his ministrations pause. Attempting to erase the distraction of your scent from his senses, he tried to concentrate on how the water felt against his skin. Upon feeling his hesitation, you glanced back at him. His incandescent eyes peered down at you, and he could only meekly shake his head at your question. It was a stark reminder of what he was and what he wasn’t— one you’d gladly forgotten about in place of his presence. 

It was after this instance that you began to notice all the little changes, the parts of Satoru that were no longer there. His typical, overwhelming sweet tooth was eradicated, and it felt almost unnatural the way he watched you eat the chocolate chip pancakes that were once his favorite of your dishes, not once trying to steal an extra bite from your plate as was his norm, much less grabbing any for himself. You chewed uncomfortably, switching the mush of pancake from one cheek to another as he leaned his chin on his fist and watched you with a contented smile. Still, it was better than forcing food down your throat in his absence, so you swallowed your breakfast with a soft smile and accepted the kiss he pressed against the knuckle of your free hand. 

You tried to not think about what all these things meant. The way he didn’t eat, how his usually racing mouth was now always shut, how you’d awake in the middle of the night to find him simply staring down at you; it made your blood run cold. It was better than being alone, you told yourself. It was better than being without him. 

His looming gaze burned holes in your back as you searched through your cabinets for the ingredients to make the festive cookies you typically prepared each year when Halloween was approaching. Usually, Satoru would be hovering over your shoulder, dipping his fingers into the batter as you swatted him away. He’d hang his long frame over the kitchen island as if it were a hammock, head dangling over the side as he shouted random numbers at you in an attempt to throw off your measurements. Those glistening lips would curl up into a mischievous smile each time you’d turn around to glare half-heartedly at him— pleased that he’d stolen your attention back just as he wanted. 

It was silent now though as you turned around to meet his gaze. You puffed out some air, blowing your bangs from your face as you closed the cabinet. 

“I guess stepping out of this place for a little bit wouldn’t hurt.” You commented with a soft sigh. 

It had been months since you’ve seen another human being— much less left the house. Since Satoru’s sudden reemergence, and, truthfully, you didn’t feel you had a reason to ever leave again. There was only so long you could live with what you had at the house though. Looking down at your pajama-clad figure, you stood up to begin your trek to the room to change into something more presentable. Behind you, hurried footsteps followed after you. Just as you were about to shed your tank top, a quick hand caught your wrist. 

The frantic look in Satoru’s blue eyes unsettled you for the smallest fraction of a second— the way his snowy brows furrowed, nose scrunched up as if you’d just told him a joke of the poorest taste. A small gulp forced its way down your throat, but you managed a forced smile. 

“I’ve gotta get some groceries, Toru.” You laughed meekly, tugging your arm from his grasp. He blinked a few times at you as you fished out an old sweater of his to pull on. “Some of us around here still eat, you know.” 

He didn’t like the way you reminded him of his own mortality status. For the first time since his dominating haunting of you, he felt disconnected from you. It was the first time he thought about the fact that there was an entire world outside this house awaiting your return. The people and stories lying behind these four walls were vibrant, loud, alive. Satoru suddenly wondered if your days turned weeks of quiet, domestic tranquility would be enough. 

His feet seemed to move on their own accord as he followed you to the front door, wishing with everything in him that he could yell at you to stop, to not leave him behind. Reaching out in a haze, he slammed the front door that you had opened back shut. You flinched back with a start, turning to blink up at him in astonishment. There was barely a hint of anger or hostility left in his expression though. In its place was fear, desperation, and an eagerness to keep you anchored to the very place he himself was doomed to. There was only one thing that the world outside you and Satoru’s home didn’t have, and it was the only thing his spirit could offer you in exchange for your blind loyalty— himself. 

Easily pushing you back against the door, Satoru kissed you as he kept his own tears and doubts hidden— doubts about what his selfishness made him and what it would do to you, what it was already doing to you. He could feel it as his hands roamed down your waist and hips in their desperate pursuit to your thighs, that you were smaller than he last remembered you being. There was a hesitation in your reciprocating, but it was as if you could still hear him now, whispering to you through the wet smacks of your lips and the clashing of your teeth— 

Don’t leave me. He longed to beg of you as he sank down onto his knees before you. As his white lashes fluttered up and his glittering eyes peered up at you from his place, dragging anguished kisses up the exposed skin of your thighs, Satoru could only smile against your clothed heat. 

It was always his favorite thing to do— something he was so skilled at— drawing your attention right back to him. It was so clear in your wanton gaze down at him, with your brows drawn softly together as your chest rose and fell in tandem with his teasing kisses, that he had drawn you in once again, even if just for a moment longer. 

Your head bumped against the front door you were trying to leave through just moments ago as Satoru peeled the layers from your hips. Despite your angled head, your eyes strained to meet his gaze that had not once left yours since his descent down your body. There was a certain betrayal in them and a daringness that asked you how could you think to leave me behind? 

In the midst of your pleasured gasp as his fingers circled your entrance lovingly before plunging in with gusto, you didn’t notice the way his free hand crept up to lock the door once again before trailing down your arm and locking his fingers between yours. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” The apology spilled from your lips with a shaking gasp, eyes finally falling shut as his lips circled your clit in tandem with his digits’ massages against your walls. You weren’t sure why you had felt the need to apologize— it was your right, after all, wasn’t it? To continue living? To not die along with him? Still, the hungered whines that were pulled from him and fell against you told a different story, one that ended in a happily ever after even if that meant opening his casket to lay beside him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”

They continued to fall from your lips as your high crept over you and molded you against the offending door. Just as you were about to slip past the final layer of sanity that grasped at you by the thinnest of threads, a sharp rap at the door had the waves of your release crashing unceremoniously to a halt in the depths of your stomach. With a startled, choked gasp, you fell forward, hands steadying you atop Satoru’s broad shoulders.

 His lips pried off you with a wet smack, and he tilted his head back to look at you— eyes wide and startled as if just reminded that it wasn’t just you two left in the world. Your chest heaved as you two stared at one another silently, and he shook his head— that familiar feeling of doubt creeping up in his chest. Your attention was drawn from him for the second time that day though as another knock sounded against the wood door, this one more urgent than the last.

Fighting against the guilt in your stomach at Satoru’s betrayed expression, you pushed off of him and quickly adjusted your clothes back over you. Wiping at your face as if it would give away your most recent escapades, you took an anxious breath in as you cracked the door open. 

The familiar sight of a tall, raven haired boy crashed against your anxiety with waves of relief— and it was slowly taken over by guilt with the reminder of the hundreds of texts and calls you’d avoided for so long. His fist was raised as if prepared to knock again, but it fell slowly upon seeing you through the crack of the door. The tension in his shoulders seemed to fall in tandem with the breath he released, his scarred face melting in relief before hardening once again. 

“Megumi—” Your meek greeting was cut off when he abruptly opened the door of your house fully and stepped in without another word. 

Unbridled fear gripped you as, for the first time since the start of your morbid affair, someone else stepped into the sacred space you and Satoru had carved out for yourselves in the past weeks. There were so many reasons you had left your loved ones in the dark— no answers about your wellbeing or needs in your time of grieving, but the most notable was the fact that you still didn’t know just what Satoru was now. Bringing someone else in posed the threat of losing him once again should your least desirable hypothesis be proven true— that he was merely a curse manifested in the wake of your grief. 

Watching with bated breath, Megumi closed the door behind him, and he was only inches from your lover. The phantom loomed over his shoulder with furrowed brows, but the boy made no indication that he had seen his dearly departed mentor standing a mere inches away from him, but, just for a moment, you thought you saw his lanky frame shake with the tiniest of shivers. If he suspected anything of the sudden intrusion, he didn’t mention it, instead casting his dark eyes around the house before settling on you once again. You released a quiet breath of relief. 

“You haven’t—” It was clear in his harsh tone that he was prepared to lecture you on your radio silence, but he stopped himself, forcing his hard features to soften a bit before looking back up at you. “I just— are you okay? Everyone’s been worried about you.”

You remained silent, watching the concern pool in his eyes as he assessed you up and down. Since the last time he’d seen you, you certainly appeared smaller, your cheeks sunken in and your collarbones more pronounced. Your eyes, the ones that once gazed at him with such fierce doting and concern for his own wellbeing were rimmed with dark circles that were more apparent against the way your skin had paled over the past weeks. In your silence, he shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’m worried about you.” Megumi finally admitted gruffly. “When was the last time you left the house? Talked to someone?” 

Your mouth opened and closed, eyes drifted over his shoulder to meet Satoru’s awaiting gaze. The boy in front of him followed your gaze, snapping back to you when he was met by nothing but air. 

“I-I’m fine, Megs.” You reassured with an unconvincing smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He spat as his expression hardened once again. His lashes fluttered angrily across his cheekbones as he blinked away the traitorous tears that threatened to burn at his eyes. 

It was his every intent to come here and be the strong one for you in Gojo’s absence. At the end of the day though, it wasn’t just you that had lost him. Megumi had lost his mentor, the only father figure he ever had. He figured the two of you would be grieving together— as doting on and endlessly embarrassing the boy had quickly become a team effort when you and Satoru got together. You filled the spaces that the six eyes couldn’t, lending an ear to problems your boyfriend never had the tact or grace to help out with himself. 

When Gojo died, Megumi never expected to lose you too. 

“You can’t expect me to go back to normal.” You explained, wanting nothing more than for him to leave. The reminder of how sickly you’d been coping with your loss was eating away at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be confronted by it any longer. “I lost my—”

“I lost him too, okay? Now don’t make me have to grieve you too— because I can’t.” Megumi was no longer looking you in the eyes, instead pretending that the various magnets on the fridge were far more interesting than your conversation. Slipping quickly down the side of his cheek though, you caught a glimpse of a rare tear before he furiously swiped it away. 

Suddenly, the guilt you were feeling was not for Satoru, or the pathetic means by which you’ve been holding onto him, but instead you felt an overwhelming contrition for the life you left behind in the midst of your coping, the people you left behind. You pushed past Satoru, paying no mind to the constricted expression on his face and pulled Megumi into a tight embrace. In his typical, nonchalant fashion though, his arms remained stiffly at his sides. Still, he buried his face into your shoulder for a brief second, allowing the grief to wash over the both of you, reminding each other that neither were ever alone in these uncharted waters. 

With a quick sniff, he pulled away from you in an attempt to collect himself. 

“Come on, let’s get lunch or something.” Megumi’s tone bordered on begging, but the man keeping you tied to this house had you biting your lip in contemplation. The boy sighed lowly at your apprehension. “Please, Gojo would have killed me if he knew I was letting you waste away like this. Come with me.” 

This revelation sliced through Satoru’s chest deeper than his fatal blow ever could have reached. For the first time since his mysterious return in your life, he looked past his need to be someone in your life, past the desire to keep you well past the time fate had allotted for the two of you, and he saw only a shell of the woman he loved. Now, you were shackled with one leg in his grave and the other tethered to your home— never able to stray too far. 

Without a care of how bizarre you appeared you peered right into Satoru’s awaiting eyes to find the stinging acceptance that you had been searching for. As if he could speak, the ghost gulped down any venomous words that threatened to spill out, as he turned on his heel and left you to make your decision. You watched the back of his head as he disappeared into the hallway, your bottom lip trembling in fear. If you walked out those doors, would he still be here when you got back? 

“Hey,” Megumi’s voice sounded distant, but the subtle desperation laced in it snapped you from your contemplative state. A tear raced down your cheek as you looked back at the boy. In his wide eyes, you saw the young boy who was blindly following Gojo into the world of jujutsu— the one who was too proud and scared of growing attached to admit that he was so grateful that above all else, you never pushed him to prove himself. There was never a conversation about how strong he had become, in its place were soft questions of if Gojo had given him a break that day, or if he had eaten. You were a rock to him for so long, and he recognized that look in your eye— the one that said you weren’t sure what was worth fighting for anymore. “Come on, I haven’t eaten today.”

Through the blur of your tears, you smiled wobbly at him, laughing tearfully as you reached up to smooth his hair down. This— you decided as you followed Megumi out the door for the first time in two months with your bag slung over your shoulder— was worth accepting grief for. 

Despite your coming to terms with the fact that reintroducing yourself into the life you’d built for yourself might mean truly letting go of Satoru in the process— fear gripped every nerve in your body as you returned home that night. You bid Megumi goodbye with a tight embrace once he’d helped you put your groceries away, and, with a promise that you’d answer your phone every once and a while, he left you alone in the house still haunted by your lover. 

Sweeping your gaze across the living room and kitchen— Satoru was nowhere to be found. A deep dread settled into the pits of your stomach, and you had to remind yourself that you weren’t at fault for choosing to continue living. No matter how many pep talks you gave yourself though, and how fulfilling it felt to have a purpose once again, even if just for a few hours, there was an undeniable feeling of loss that accompanied the fact that you and Satoru were left with no closure. 

“Toru?” You called out, your careful footsteps being the only, subtle noise echoing through the eerily silent house. The door of your bedroom creeked open under your palm’s hesitant push, but it too was barren. A familiar feeling of helplessness began to rise within your chest. It was the sensation that the very essence of what seemed to hold your world together was slipping past your fingers as though grains of sand in perilous tides. No matter how hard or desperately you squeezed your fists together— it was leaving you to be washed away by a greater power. “Satoru, this isn’t funny!”

The stinging tears that flowed down your cheeks were angry— offended that he’d leave you behind once again like this. Just like the first time, he’d left no warning, no explanation or preparation for his abrupt departure. It was a betrayal like no other, and you kicked open the door of the bathroom with all the anger it burned within you. The knob slammed against the wall, undoubtedly leaving an ugly hole in its wake, but the sight of the empty restroom was a far more grueling vision to behold. 

“Please, I’m sorry I left.” You cried into the empty space as you walked in further to rip the curtain of the shower back as if he would pop out from his hiding spot at any moment. Your knees buckled underneath you, and you curled into yourself against the cold tile flooring. There was a persistent pounding in your skull as your sobs shook your body, and, for a moment, you considered calling Megumi back to take you Jujutsu High— fearing what your mind may whisper to you in the midst of your breakdown. Your nails dug crescent shaped marks into your arms as you tried to grasp onto any sense of reality. “Come back. Please come back.”

There was a pregnant silence behind your shaking sobs that blanketed over the frigid bathroom for just a moment longer before the shattering of glass let you know you weren’t alone. You jolted up with a strangled scream at the sound, your arms coming up to shield you from the shards of broken glass the richocheted from the wall. Once it had finally settled, you slowly lowered your arms, eyes focusing on the larger shard that had fallen in front of you. From its reflection, Satoru’s piercing eyes stared back at you— a certain peace in them that wasn’t there when you’d last seen them. 

You quickly lifted your head, mouth agape at the sight of the phantom, still there, still with you. With your legs moving on their own accord, shards of glass pierced through your knees as you moved to pull yourself up, the unmistakable sensation of blood seeping onto your skin. Satoru squatted down, silently halting your movements. His eyes never left yours as he picked up a small envelope from the pile of glass. You hadn’t noticed it before— too transfixed on his still being there. 

Any words you wished to spew out to him died in your throat as he handed the envelope to you, and after a moment, you finally broke the intense eye contact you had been maintaining with him to look down at it. It had your name scribbled across the front. Without a doubt, you instantly recognized it as Satoru’s familiar penmanship. Your brows furrowed as your trembling fingers grasped onto the paper in confusion. The man before you could only watch, his stillness inviting you to rip open the damned paper, so you did.

You can’t tell anyone that I was too scared to say goodbye to you in person— I’m still supposed to be the strongest, you know (even if I went out like a total LOSER). I’m sorry to have left like this, but I think if you had asked me not to go, I might have actually listened. Quite the accomplishment, sweetcheeks, being the one person Gojo Satoru ever truly feared.

I’ll always love you and the life we were working to build, even if I won’t be around to see how you make it your own.

Please don’t waste the rest of your life looking at my reflection. 

(Seriously, don’t make me haunt you)

Your Toru.

The black ink before you smudged as your tears fell onto the page. You read it over and over again, unsure if the feeling crashing into you was still grief, or if the hint of relief washing over your system was real. Had your closure been here all along— hidden behind the damned mirror you stared mindlessly into for weeks?

“I didn’t want you to let me go.” 

You were sure you had begun hallucinating as Satoru’s melodic voice swam into your ears, filling you with a comfort you had been missing for far too long. Finally tearing your gaze from the letter, you looked up at him, mouth agape. As he stared back at you, there was a certain lightness that seemed to fill the air around him, and he knew his time with you was limited. 

“I figured you’d find it eventually. I just… I wanted you to hold onto me for a little longer.” He admitted before staring up at the now barren wall that once held that damned mirror. With a humorless laugh, he rolled his eyes at his own selfishness. “So much for the strongest, am I right?”

“Toru,” You whispered, fiercely blinking back the tears that dared blur your vision of him. He caught you as you threw your arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. “I never needed you to be the strongest. I just wanted to know you were there— that what you left behind meant something to you.”

“It meant everything. You meant everything to me.” Satoru reassured, and as he opened his eyes, he could no longer see the sink, or the tub, the tiles; he only saw your trembling figure crouched beside him. Closure—  he knew what it would mean, but he was now willing to be left behind if it meant you got to move forward. 

“Are you leaving?” You asked, though you already knew the answer. 

“Afraid so—  but do me a favor, yeah?” He pulled back to smile fondly down at you, wiping at the tears under your eyes. You nodded dumbly at him as he brushed your hair behind your ears. “Get a new mirror, and stop looking for me in it, okay?”

Despite the heaviness in your chest, you laughed breathlessly at his words.

“Okay.” You choked out in agreement, closing your eyes as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. A sly smile spread across his lips as he looked down at you one last time. 

“It was never as good as the real thing anyway.”

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strangers : climax | dave york

pairing: dave york x fireader word count: 6307 content warning: 18+ blog; established relationship, workaholic Dave, Soft Dave, miscommunication, implied/ alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn't know this), Dave's phone deserves its own warning, mention of food and alcohol consumption, a moment in a dressing room where reader inspects her reflection/self image judgments, smut (oral f receiving, fingering, semi public sex, kissing after oral, public affection, some praise if you squint), angst and sad feels, somewhat jealous Dave in a kind of joking manner, lots of tears, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and jeans- but zero description features, no age given but it's implied she's at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: it's finally here!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out into the world. I was working through lots of writing blocks, kids, travel, and sickness. But it's finally here!!!! This one is a doozy in so many ways but I'm so excited for it!! I'm so grateful for everyone who takes the time to read, share, comment and like each chapter of this series. I'm sad it's almost over!!

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It’s almost sadistic. Taunting every single fiber of your being as each chord of the melody, so perfectly orchestrated, looms over the hotel bar. 

Your body betrays you. So easily giving in to the song's familiarity as each word reverberates through your chest. Flashes of Dave dressed in black, spinning you in front of your closest family and friends drowned out the urge to ask for the song to be skipped. 

The liveliness of the crowd pouring into the dimly lit space helps block out the music. Your fingers swirl around the condensation slowly settling around your drink that sits untouched on the mahogany bar top. Your mind sifting through the day's events leading up to this moment, where you’re sitting alone, annoyance raging in your veins, in a dress you're starting to regret buying. 

*

Lunch was relaxed and pleasant. The oceanfront views of the small cafe were something straight out of a movie. The weather was warm enough to enjoy the patio dining, a subtle breeze cutting through periodically. The ocean swells breaking masked the bustle of beach goers and passing cars. It was everything you had wanted to experience in this beautiful city.

Dave had been fully present since the intimate moment you both shared back at the hotel. More than he had been the entire trip thus far. Keeping you close to him, his hands never leaving you once stepping out of the room. As if to silently say I’m all here with you and I love you. 

You relished in the closeness of him. Internally screaming with increasing avidity at his electrifying advances all afternoon. 

Pulling your chair closer to where he sat so his free hand could nestle between your thighs. Too focused on twirling the pasta around your fork between discussing the most current events Dave had read in the morning paper while waiting for you to return from your walk. 

Growing and falling Stocks. Government scandals that could trickle down and affect parts of his job. National affairs of all levels that jumped out to him. All things you hadn’t really kept up with until meeting Dave, were now things you looked forward to listening to him talk about and giving your input with your own perspective. 

It's when Dave starts discussing something about sports or sports related that throws you off balance. Not necessarily so much in what he’s saying, but in what he’s doing when he’s saying it. 

“So if they draft him this year, he’ll be a starting rookie…” Dave says as he shifts forward in his chair to adjust his position, hand slightly shifting where it still rests between your legs, his pinky sliding up the crotch seam of your denim with an ample amount of pressure. 

“I’ve got money on him this season…” Your mind is too cloudy to even focus on what he’s saying. 

An instant jolt of arousal splinters across your body, you use your napkin to hopefully muffle the moan you nearly choke on. Oh! It’s deliberate, Dave’s expression collected and unphased as he carries on, continuing to drag his digit up and down the thick layer of fabric. 

“You okay, Honey?” He smirks, applying a little more weight behind his touch, before directing his attention to the server passing by the table and signaling for the check.

“Mmhmm— y-yeah! I’m fine. Great!” Your voice pitches at an unusual tone, frantically nodding in response as you wring the napkin between your fingers trying to not succumb to the pleasure currently building in your core. 

It’s a tragic feeling when his hand abandons the heat of your thighs. His focus now is on inspecting the bill, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and tucking the proper amount of cash into the server’s book. 

“That’s good.” He says all blasé as he looks at you with deadpan expression, situating his wallet in place again. 

“Oh my god— Dave! You are the worst!” You toss your napkin at him, shaking your head as you laugh at his flirtatious behavior. 

*

A proper casualness flows between the two of you following lunch— a familiar domesticity that had become so foreign to you. It now almost seems too far-fetched to think things have been strained in the last few months leading up to today and this seemingly perfect afternoon with Dave. 

A stitch of guilt begins to weave through your mind as you take in Dave’s unreserved laughter and the way he looks so, extremely happy. Maybe you were premature in believing that there was anything wrong to begin with. 

There’s a liveliness to Dave that has felt so rare to witness as of recently. No signs of stress. No closed off demeanor. No inkling of any distress that threatens to disrupt a marriage you so desperately desire to keep intact. 

He’s remarkably your Dave— through and through. 

The sun becomes far more dominating as the day passes. It’s fiery intensity has you squinting as you step out of the cute little ice cream shop you dragged Dave into after lunch. 

Thankfully you’re more than prepared. A pair of dark sunglasses now perched on the bridge of your nose and the light fabric tank you opted for thanks to Dave’s attentive nature for planning, always checking the weather forecast incessantly as he sips from his morning coffee.

It’s no surprise at the influx of tourists that crowd the sidewalk as you both amble about. Your arm wrapped around Dave, his free hand gently resting at the nape of your neck, both of you working against the heat to keep your ice cream from dripping down the cone. 

There’s a silence that hangs around the enjoyment of the summer treat, but it’s not uncomfortable. People watching and window shopping paired with brief moments of sweet banter have seemed to reignite the flame that had slowly begun to dwindle. 

“Woah!” A swarm of teenagers rocketing by on skateboards out of nowhere has you stunned, several of them nearly knocking into you. 

“What the fuck!” Dave’s quick like reflexes immediately turn on and he’s pulling you into his chest as the last few of the trailing skateboarders roll by. “Get off the sidewalk before you hurt someone, you punks!” 

“Yeah yeah! Fuck off old man!” The last of the bunch, a typical backwards hat wearing unphased teen, yells over his shoulder raising his middle finger as he skates off into the distance. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“I’m fine. They didn’t hit me— just startled me more than anything.” You assure him. 

“Still— those little assholes almost sideswiped you. And that little fucker calling me an old man?” Dave grumbles, following your lead to continue walking despite wanting to track down the group and give them a piece of his mind. 

“Easy, they’re just having fun. If I remember correctly, you too were once a little asshole. There’s a laundry list of stories your mom has shared with me to back that up too.” He scoffs at your comment, knowing exactly which stories his mom has divulged to you about his wild adolescent years. 

Your favorite being when a senior year prank almost resulted in suspension and losing scholarships. Dave and a few of his high school friends had decided to toilet paper and egg the principal’s home one night. The group of teens had thought they pulled it off until they came to school and their pictures were plastered in every classroom— security cameras were not taken into account while planning such a prank. Dave’s parents caught wind of the incident and the missing rolls of TP from their home and forced Dave to turn himself in. Dave confessed as a lone prankster, adamant that he didn’t know who the other students were in the images, resulting in tutoring lower grade classmates the remainder of the semester and a few weekends of community service. 

“I’m not an old man.” He murmurs against your temple, pressing his lips to your warm skin. His hand settles into your back pocket directing his attention to his almost finished ice cream. 

“Didn’t say you were.” Grinning at his annoyance. “Your mom earlier— How is she? Everything okay?”

“She’s good. Everything’s good. Just checking in. Making sure we’re settling in okay here— you know how she is.” It feels like he’s saying a lot without saying much of anything. 

“Yeah— definitely sounds like her. Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve talked to her. We should invite them over for dinner when we get back. Proper catch up— share about our trip with them in person.” You look at him, his head nodding along at the suggestion. 

You’ve always had a close relationship with his mother, Carol. Weekly trips to the farmers market and coffee dates became a regular thing after you and Dave married. Family dinners took place once a month, rotating between each other’s houses or restaurants. Carol never wanted to be one of those overbearing mother in laws, always making sure that you and Dave didn’t feel suffocated by her and Dave’s dad’s presence. 

“Okay. I’ll umm— I’ll call her when we get back. See what her and dad’s calendar looks like. I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to get together, since our busy schedules haven’t seemed to line up in the last few months.” 

“Perfect.” 

There’s a beat of silence that follows making plans with his parents. Like there was more he wanted to say but left it unsaid. You don’t push for more and let any needling thought dissolve. 

“How was it?” Dave points to the remaining milky soup that’s settled into the top of your semi soggy cone. 

“It was delicious.” You tell him, then lapping at a few random drips racing down your wrist with your tongue, savoring the last of its salty sweetness.

“Let me have a taste of it.” He says, pulling you both out of the main flow of people walking behind you. 

“What? You don’t even like this flavor, Mr. Vanilla is the only flavor that truly matters.” You playfully mock his go-to choice of a single scoop of plain vanilla, not even a punch of vanilla bean or a sprinkling of chocolate chunks— he’s a simple man. 

“Maybe my taste buds have evolved?” He counters, pulling you flush against him under the shade of a store awning. “Give me a taste.” 

Everything around you fades to the background, it’s just the two of you. Dave’s lips molding to yours. His tongue gently skims over your lower lip, silently seeking entrance. 

It’s unhurried and thorough. A stark contrast from the chilly sensation that still lingers from the frozen dessert and the heat emanating from the way Dave’s tongue languidly traces over every bit of surface he can reach. Dizzying your senses, your mind fully immersed in the way he still tastes of sweet vanilla as he explores every detail of your mouth. Lapping at the remnants of the melted salted caramel that coats your tongue. 

It’s vulnerable and thrilling— feeling so right and fully present together. 

Your ice cream cone falls from your hand, crashing hard on the cement walkway, giving you the freedom to wrap your hands around his neck and relax even more into the kiss as Dave guides you through it. His hand squeezes your ass through your denim pocket, securing you against him. His other hand cradles your face as he swallows the small moans you produce when he nips tenderly at your bottom lip. 

“Dave—“ Is the only coherent word you can think of when he finally breaks the kiss. Your fingers tighten around his short hair as you float back to the ground. 

“I like the way it tastes on you. Might be my new favorite flavor.” He smiles, releasing small puffs of his breath over your lips. 

*

It was the first shop that caught your attention, the front display had you stopping in your tracks. Your initial interest to merely window shop, a signal to Dave that you were interested in the possibility of checking out more of their inventory. 

“Sweetheart? You doing okay in there?” Dave asks cautiously, as if to not scare off any potential decisions you might be deliberating over from behind the velvet curtain of the dressing room. 

It’s nothing new, a song and dance you’ve been through before— turning and inspecting from head to toe. Your mind in an epic battle with the reflection framed in front of you, dreading anytime you step foot in anything that resembles a fitting room. 

Except this time you’re not tearing apart every little thing about what you’re seeing, finding all the negative reasons as to why this particular dress isn’t working.

It’s the complete opposite, because you love the dress and you can see yourself wearing it on many occasions without a doubt. 

An ambered hue that reminds you of autumn when the leaves turn, and Dave spending hours in the yard gathering pile after pile while you bake a seasonal pie, watching him from the kitchen window. 

The tiered tulle fabric plucks a peculiar scene from your memory. Its flowy and dramatic silhouette is reminiscent of the dress you had worn to last year’s CIA Gala. Dave kept you close for the entirety of the evening. Your arm wrapped around his as he talked with colleagues, some new whose names you wouldn’t remember and others who had slowly worked their way into a more permanent place in your lives with regular dinner parties and monumental celebrations. Dave’s hand planted on the small of your back, his thumb drawing soft shapes where your dress strategically exposed your back, you were his grounding force among a sea of highly regarded men and their significant others.

“Hey- is everything okay?” Dave’s head now visible as he pulls the curtain back just enough to check in with you, his hushed tone barely audible over the upbeat music that the trendy boutique has playing through the store. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You say flatly as you continue to inspect your reflection, the hang tag with the bold asking price of the dress held between your restless fingers.

“Wow— Sweetheart, you look… Wow!” Speechless. Dave stands stunned behind you, taking in every bit of you, completely captivated.

“Yeah? It feels like a lot. I have a dress back at the room I can wear instead…” You say, watching the arduous battle he’s sorting through in his mind, his smitten smirk doing wonders to help settle your dress turmoil.

“No— No this, this is perfect. I love it so much. You definitely should get this one.” Dave says persuasively, a beat of sensualism exuding from where he now stands with his chest flush to your back, his hands attempting to bypass the layers of fabric in search of somewhere to efficiently affix himself to you. “Reminds me of that dress you wore to the Gala last year. You looked stunning. So much so I couldn’t keep my hands off of you the entire night. Pulled you into that closet and fucked you while the awards ceremony carried on.”

“Hmm, I remember.” You smile, your stomach flipping at the way he so vividly remembers that evening too. “But the price is a little much though. Like too much.” Dropping the price tag, allowing it to hang freely from the dress instead of mocking your sticker shop distress.

“Don’t worry about the price— it’s fine.” You gasp when he connects with your skin, a shiver zipping up your spine, his lips fervent and assertive as they work up the expanse of your neck.

Dave’s hand catches your head as it tips to the side, allowing him more ample space to roam. Your skin in his teeth triggers a soft whimper in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you get lost in the sensation of him.

It’s a blur of calculated movements on his part, your body receptive to his smooth control, moving along with ease until your back settles against the wall of the dressing room. The carpeted floor envelops the sound of him falling to his knees. Dave’s eyes glazed over as he stares up at you, their usual golden hue dappled with gleaming eagerness. His hands fumble with the hem of the dress skirt briefly, delighted when he finally manages to breach the abundant layers of fabric. The brush of his fingers on your skin as his hands skim up your legs is all the forewarning you’re given before he’s pulling down and removing the lace panties that you’ve been soaking through all afternoon because of him.

“Dave— what are you doing?” A breathless question, one you don’t really need a response to as he looks up to you one more time, his pointer finger resting on his mouth then lifting your leg over one of his shoulders. 

He takes in the sight of your glistening wetness, his mouth watering at how you’re dripping for him. The urge to taste you is strong and he gives into it fully. 

From above all you can see is bunched fabric and brown tousled locks when he connects to you, his angular nose pressed into the patch of hair that covers your mound, that first tentative kiss to your sex delicate and heady. The soft pressure of his flat tongue has your eyes rolling back when he starts to lick up and down, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of your arousal. Desire forging through your body with a deep buzzing intensity. 

“Oh fuck! If we get caught— Ah!Shit. Dave— Baby, that feels amazing—” You purr in what you hope is a hushed tone, tilting your pelvis just so, a dire need for a climactic release. 

Dave’s tongue moves in slow circles, teasing and flicking at your clit. His ministrations causing a slow tingle to build in your lower abdomen, steadily increasing in strength as he goes. 

“Ma’am, how’s everything going in there?” The store attendant asks, completely unaware of the lewdness taking place on the other side of the current. 

“Mmhmmm! Great! The dress is p-perfect!!” Your voice shoots up an octave when Dave inserts two fingers into your fluttering pussy in one quick thrust, moving them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your aching clit. 

“That’s so great to hear. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to holler.” She says before you hear the clicking of her boots retreating. 

You are squirming and quietly moaning, your knees nearly buckling as the fiery pleasure gains momentum, completely lost in the blissful sensation.

“You hear that, Baby. She said don’t hesitate to holler. Doing so good for me— I can never get enough of you!” His fingers hitting that delicious little spot that makes your toes curl, over and over again. 

“Dave— don’t stop!” And he doesn’t. 

He senses the tension building in your body, your walls seizing up around his deft fingers, intensifying his movements, his tongue lapping at every inch of your folds as your arousal runs down his hand. 

“Baby, I'm coming.” You say right before your jaw goes slack, a silent whine only noticeable to you and Dave fills the small space. Your vision dusted in white, a euphoric sensory cloud of light bursting behind your eyes. 

Dave catches you when it becomes too much to stand, whimpering at the loss of his fingers seated so firmly inside you. 

Your skin is dewy. Glowing under the small dressing room light. The beads of sweat running down the length of your neck, sliding down the slopes of your breast, migrating somewhere below the fabric of the dress. 

Dave catches a few salty drops, his tongue trailing over your clavicle makes you aware that he has removed himself from the underside of the skirt. 

You taste the brininess and the sweet tang of your arousal when he licks into your mouth. Zero time to catch your breath, his tongue tangling effortlessly with yours. 

“Hmmm— I take back what I said earlier. I love the way you taste— only flavor for me!” He says smirking against your tingling lips. 

“You are such a menace. But I love you for it.” You pull him in for one last chaste kiss. 

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead, then bends to pick up your discarded panties, stuffing them in his front pocket. 

“Seems like it would be wrong to not buy the dress after that little move you pulled.” Giggling as you begin the process of undoing the back zipper. 

“Knew that would help sway your decision.” He says with an impish grin and wink. 

*

Your reservation has come and gone. 30 minutes to be exact. Misery and frustration fill your veins as you stir the tiny straw in the watered-down concoction. The cocktail-soaked cherry, normally your inaugural sprinkling of how well the drink was mixed, now lays overlooked and forgotten at the bottom of the glass.

The bartender, who checks in with you like clockwork every 10 minutes or so to see if you needed a refill albeit your obvious lack of consumption from the original drink he made, has shown zero annoyance over the fact that you have taken up space in not one, but two chairs at his bustling bar. Your small clutch placed in front of the empty seat reserved for your husband who was supposed to meet you here an hour ago.

*

Dave and you had made your way back to the hotel after purchasing the dress, giving yourselves plenty of time to get ready for the evening Dave had planned out.

It was hard to keep your hands off each other. a magnetic effervescence had you contemplating whether to call off the reservation all together despite Dave’s ecstatic adamancy to make it to the reservation on time. Both of you managed to work against the intense pull, only sharing shy glances and brushing of limbs standing side by side in front of the bathroom mirror while getting ready.

Dave didn’t shy away from flattering you as he helped zip you in, causing you to fight against tears that threatened to ruin the dramatic makeup that paired perfectly with your dress.

I love you. You are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky? I can’t wait to get you out of this dress later.

Dave’s hand molds to yours, a corner of his mouth lifted as you eagerly drag him from your hotel room. Taking advantage of the privacy the small offshoot hallway provides from the main corridor of the floor, he draws you back to him and without hesitation he kisses you with a fiery tenderness. 

“Alright. We need to go.” He says, breathless and not all that convincing. 

“Do we though? We could just swipe the key, make our way back inside, order room service— you can get me out of this dress. See what I may or may not be wearing underneath.” You murmur against his smile, your tongue sensually gliding over the underside of his upper lip causing him to release a heavy sigh, as if he really wants to do exactly just that. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Sweetheart. And as enticing as all of that sounds— amuse me and go along with what I have planned. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back here and I can slowly undress you.” He counters, leaving you little room to dispute his well thought out plan for the evening. 

“Alright, Mr. York. We'll play by your rules.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Dinner. Then straight back here—“

A soft buzzing cuts you off. Dave’s body tenses against yours, releasing you from his hold to retrieve his phone from his black slacks. 

“I need to take this— it’s work.” His demeanor completely shifting from his usual sweet carefree self to closed off and mysterious. 

“Okay. Call them later then. They can leave you a message.” You reach for his hand to continue to make your way down to the restaurant. He pulls away, promptly taking a few steps back, his focus still on the number flashing on his phone screen. 

You’re not sure what hurts more. The fact that Dave is putting work first once again or how he so quickly recoiled when you reached for him. 

“I can’t. I need to take it.” He says, finally looking at you with pleading eyes, and you hate how much you so willingly give into his need to brush off the plans he was only moments ago so eager to get to. 

“Dave— Fine.” Releasing a heavy sigh into the narrow hallway, tightening your grip on the small purse that holds your phone, lip gloss and key card, doing your best to mask the resentment and defeat simmering just below the surface. 

“I’ll be quick. Go grab us a seat at the bar and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.” He doesn’t give you an opportunity to get another word in, turning to let himself back into the room. 

The bottom of your dress floats in the air, kicking out with each step you take, making your way to the main hall of the floor in the direction of the elevator. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone yet again. Suppressing your swirling emotions for the time being.  

Dave’s hushed voice echoes down the walls. Never actually making back into the room before answering the call. Out in the open. Zero care that his wife is still within earshot. 

“Hey, Ashley… Yeah, she just left. I told her to just wait for me at the bar.” 

You stop dead in your tracks. The swish of your dress is now still at your feet, hanging in its normal wearing state. Your blood runs cold as your brain rapidly tries to digest what you just heard. 

Your heart clings to how easily Dave had been so present and affectionate since this morning. That sinking feeling of your suspicions being revealed. I knew this whole day was too good to be true. 

Everything feels like it’s narrowing. The hallway. Your vision. Your airway. Smaller and smaller. 

Something compels you to keep moving. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone at the bar, away from this man who you no longer find recognizable at this moment. 

*

“Excuse me. Can I get a Scotch, neat, side of water please?” Dave’s whereabouts are no longer unknown to you, leaning an elbow onto the bar as he orders himself a drink, his other hand resting on the back of the chair that has kept you comfortable while you wait. 

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Dave apologizes, sealing it with a kiss to your cheek. 

You hum a lackluster response. Gnawing at your bottom lip as you focus on the dilapidated napkin you’ve been rolling and unraveling, folding and unfolding for the umpteenth time. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, his hand moves to rest on your back but now it’s your turn to recoil from his touch, leaning forward before he’s able to make contact. 

“Yeah— I’m great.” You say flatly, only briefly looking at him to deliver your annoyed smile, then back to the crinkled napkin that’s now serving as an absorbent to pooling condensation. 

“Here you are sir.” The bartender interrupts, placing the single malt and ice water on the bar, Dave nods his thanks. 

You don’t have it in you to pry or question his tardiness. So you continue to sit in silence, watching Dave out of your peripheral properly dilute his drink so it’s suitable for sipping. 

“You’re not wearing your ring?” He points out to your bare ring finger then takes a light sip of the diluted scotch. 

The fingers of your left hand pause, fanning out so you can inspect the observation yourself. The usually adorned finger is stripped, lacking your wedding band and engagement ring.  

“Oh— I must have forgotten to put it back on after we went to the pool…” You hadn’t realized how naked it felt all day, the fingers of your right hand soothing over the indent skin, recalling when you had tossed the jewelry haphazardly into your bag yesterday. 

“You don’t think these strangers will get the wrong idea?” You sense an attempt at humor in his voice, only he has failed to read the room. His government skills not sensing you have zero interest in Dave’s untimely decision to be a humorist. “A beautiful woman, alone at a bar, without her wedding rings— Don’t want—“

“Excuse me— can you put my drink on his tab? He’ll be taking care of it, along with your generous tip.” You alert the passing bartender. You swivel your barstool just enough to reach around Dave’s solid form to grab your purse, then swivel in the opposite direction to stand. You tuck your purse under your arm, before delivering the irritation that has finally begun to boil over. “I think the only stranger confused about our marriage is you, Dave.” 

“Wait— Where are you going?” His hand gently clasped around your upper arm, halting your departure. 

You glance down at where his hand holds you, his thumb actively moving in soft circles over your skin, trying his best to distract and diffuse the air between you. Unfortunately, too little too late. 

“I’ve been sitting here waiting for you, Dave— for a fucking hour. I’m going back to the room.” You pull your arm from his grip and leave without another word. 

Dave somehow manages to catch the same elevator, but you don’t bother acknowledging his presence as he stands on the opposite side of the small metal cabin. The other riding passengers don’t suspect you two even know each other or the emanant rift that is unfolding between you, just two lone hotel guests sharing a lift to their designated floor. 

2 stops allow for the other guests to get on to their respective floors, leaving only you and Dave left to continue the ride to the final stop. 

The striking silence is met with electric chords spilling from the small speakers in the elevator. The familiar tune feels like an old friend you’ve been reacquainted with after months apart. Those first few lines wrap around you, embracing you fully— I’ve missed you so. The chorus drawing your gaze to where your husband stands slouched against the mirrored wall, looking equally as somber as you feel, his eyes already drawn to you in the same manner. 

A smile tugs at your lips, a fleeting moment of remembrance to that night so many years ago. That night where Dave was more than just a stranger in a bar. He was your future. Your home. Dave without a doubt was the best thing to happen to you. 

The memory of meeting Dave is interrupted by a soft ding and the doors slowly unveiling your intended destination. 

You stalk towards the room with a graceful backbone, a beautiful facade to how you truly feel inside, keeping yourself together with each poised stride. Dave takes his position two steps behind, vigilantly in tune with your body language. 

There’s a sense of relief that overcomes you the second the door closes and the lock clicks. No longer needing to keep a composed demeanor to prying eyes. No longer allowing the hurt to fester and torment your heart in a stealthily manner. 

They flow furiously once they start. Tears streaming down your face. Silent sobs cracking in your throat. 

You move about busily, grabbing and tossing, too lost in your own blurry thoughts to even notice Dave standing there watching you. 

“What are you doing?” Dave asks, perplexed by the way you’re flinging item after item into your suitcase that lays open on the bed. 

“You’re a smart man, Dave. I’m sure you can figure that out.” Grabbing a drawer’s entire contents and dropping it messily into your bag. 

“I get that you’re packing. Why are you packing is my concern.” He takes a timid step closer towards the streamline process of you moving about. 

“I’m going home. I’ll catch a ride to the airport. Book a new flight when I get there. I can have Jacey pick me up when I land.” A plan you had thoroughly developed before Dave had arrived at the bar. 

“Wait— you’re going home? Why? What’s going on?” He steps directly into your path, hindering your progress. 

“I don’t know anymore, Dave. I thought this was what we needed. Some time away together. Away from work. Away from our normal lives. Just us reconnecting. But it seems like this whole thing was just wasted effort.” You try to wipe the tears, but they just continue to fall. 

“Baby, you’re not making any sense right now.” He knows he should allow you space, but the urge to pull you into him is stronger. 

“It’s been months. Months of you working long hours. Months of missed dinners and late nights at the office. Months of being alone at night wondering if you’re okay and when you’ll be home. Months of worrying that something is happening between us and trying to figure out how to fix it.” Each convulsive gasp for air you struggle for fans across Dave’s neck. His arms tightening around you, every word slicing through his chest. 

“Fuck—“ He murmurs, his cheek pressed into the side of your head, your tearful confession not anything he expected to hear tonight. 

“If you didn’t want to c-come with me— I would have u-understood.” Your shoulders jostle in Dave’s arms, your own arms hanging at your side, still holding a few loose garments in your fists. 

“What? No! Baby, I wanted to come. I want to be here— with you.” Dave pulls back, enough so you can see the sureness in his eyes. 

“What about her? Wouldn’t you rather be here with— h-her?” Your voice cracks at the thought of Dave with someone who isn’t you. 

“Her? What are you talking about?” 

“Ashley— She’s the important phone calls you’ve been taking. The work that can’t wait. She’s why you’ve been so distant with me for months.” It feels like glass the minute it leaves your mouth, shattering across your tongue, nearly choking on the tiny little shards. 

“Honey, you think I’m having an affair?” A nod is all your weary state can give. An affair— it’s the only thing that makes sense to you right now. 

“I heard you talking to her several times since we got here, Dave. The last time being when you told me you had to take an important call and you would meet me at the bar before our dinner reservation.” 

You’re not sure what you expect him to do now that he’s been caught. Confess to his actions. Tell you everything from the beginning. Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was a mistake, it will never happen again. 

What you don’t expect is to see a single tear fall down his handsome face. To see a look of rich tenderness in his eyes. Warmth in his touch as he wipes away the wet worriment painted over your face. 

“Baby— Fuck, I’m so sorry. To say that this trip so far has been stressful would be an understatement. Nothing I had planned for this trip has gone right— even after months and months of preparation. And you’re right, they weren’t work phone calls— not all of them at least. I’m so sorry for making you feel like I didn’t want to be here— I do. I want to tell you everything, but I think it’s best if I show you first.” 

“Show me what?” You ask him. 

“Come with me so you can see for yourself. And if you still want to go home afterwards, we’ll leave tonight.” Dave’s head tilts, his eyes searching yours hoping to relieve any reservations you still might be internally feeling. 

“I look like a blubbering mess right now.” You use what you now realize are a pair of socks to wipe any streaks of makeup smeared on your face. 

“No you don’t. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says, his lips molding over yours are a sobering reflection of his love for you. 

Not much else is said on the trek back down to the lobby, allowing Dave to take you to wherever this mysterious place is. 

There’s a nervousness about him, his jitters, while subtle, are loud and obvious. Holding his sweaty palm against yours. His other hand actively fidgeting in his pocket. Head tilt back, then forward, stretching his neck from side to side. 

You lean into his shoulder, tucking your free hand under his arm, hoping to ground him a bit. It helps, you feel him relax instantly into your touch. His lips pressing to the side of your head, Thank you. 

“Dave, where are we going?” You ask as you walk in an unfamiliar area of the hotel. 

“Almost there.” He says, his fingers squeezing in small bursts against your hand. 

It’s a long hallway covered in an elaborate wallpaper with rich details of floral patterns and bold hues. It's dimly lit due to the fact that there’s zero windows, the only light is given by the mid century style sconce fixtures lining the walls. Potted plants strategically placed around sculptures and empty velvet chairs. 

You’re met with two large wooden doors as you approach the end of the hall, but it’s the woman standing in front of them that has your attention. She’s beautiful, actually she’s stunning. Her smile is so warm and inviting, beaming at you as you and Dave walk closer to where she stands. It’s as if she’s been expecting you, waiting diligently for your arrival. 

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. York. My name is Ashley.” 

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

It Is Your Birthday, Enjoy

In honor of my birthday I wrote this really self indulgent thing featuring the first two survivors i loved in IDV lolol

Rated: Explicit | Warnings: Based on AoM, BDSM Themes, Virgin Norton, Voyeurism, okay is just horny man

Orpheus and you are writers.

Two different genres yet both understand the work and details needed to create the pieces you both make.

“He agreed!?” Stopping your pen to give Orpheus your full attention as he keeps writing.

“Mr. Campbell did indeed agree provided he is given extra pay for the trouble.”

You do not know the reason why Orpheus hired Norton Campbell, a former Coal Miner turned unemployed Prospector. You only see him when crossing paths after Orpheus pays him. Considering Orpheus is both a secretive man and one who does detective work as if he is solving real cases (you have to wonder though given most of his books are based on old cases), Norton may be hired muscle.

“I… Am surprised. Are you sure he is willing?” Concern about Norton agreeing to this with no hesitation from what your partner explained in his retelling of the event prior to him visiting your room.

The Oletus Manor, Orpheus claims it from a childhood he is slowly piecing together. The manor was in ruins, barely standing even. However, with the funds of a renowned Novelist, the manor looks as if nothing ever burned or looted these walls.

He is quite proud of it.

“Of course,” Closing his notebook, “Mr. Campbell is willing as long as the money flows into his hands.”

You frown, “You make him seem like a prostitute, Orpheus…”

There is a coy smirk on that devilishly handsome face, “Your words, not mine, beloved.” Getting up from his seat at your desk to kiss your forehead as you are lying on the bed writing. “Upon dawn, all that you desire shall be yours.”

The following morning, you go to breakfast thinking about how you rather eat ice cream right now. Oh, maybe there was that chocolate truffle cake Orpheus snuck in when he thought he was being sneaky. You smile as you enter the dining room then see Norton standing over by the window with his arms crossed and a grumpy look on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. Campbell.” Greeting him.

Norton snaps out of his thoughts to see you walking toward him, “Mornin’,” His eyes skim at you over your form dressed particularly nice today, “Suppose you're expecting something from me right now.” He is not frowning but still looks stern.

“Huh? No, I only wanted to be polite.” Oh, he probably has the wrong impression of you, “Uh-hmm, I wanted to ask about what Orpheus—” Cut off by lips on your, hand pulling you in close by shoulders. His lips are not badly chapped. When he stops kissing you, you realize he tastes of chocolate.

“Happy birthday.” Walking away leaving you confused and frazzled.

This will not be the only time he kisses you.

After breakfast, eating alone as Orpheus said he would be busy until the evening, you find out Norton is to be your company for the day.

“You can't just kiss people like that!” Currently outside on this sunny day at the racecourse, “At least, warn me!”

“Where's the fun in that,” Laughing a bit as he oversees the repairs, “Anyway compare getting a kiss to,” Lowering his voice and leaning into your space beside him, “Being told how you want another man inside of you.”

You are grateful to be up on the tower overlooking the racecourse so no one but Norton Campbell can see you embarrassed and fumbling with your words.

“Lucky you, I don't mind letting you wet my dick.”

“Must you be so crude!?”

“Why bother sugarcoating it when your precious Novelist said much worse.” Pulling back to look at his clipboard full of papers, “The man knows how to paint a pretty picture with those words of his… Especially about you.”

“How much…?”

“I'm sure he told you.” Norton glances over at you to see you looking at him, “Understand, I don't mind this arrangement so long as I get paid and I am only touching you.”

You feel shy, “Only me.”

“Only you, Orpheus will have to add more if he thinks I'm going to be his bitch. Even then, I ain’t taking his fucking dick in me.”

You want to tell him that Orpheus would much rather do the opposite but you stay quiet instead.

A few hours in the racecourse before you both start heading down the tower to go back to the manor for lunch. You only stop when Norton tells you to follow him into the stables.

There are no horses, yet, the stables are barren as it is not the priority compared to the rest of the racecourse. You wonder what and why Orpheus is repairing a place with such a dark story. His book brings back to light the fall of Mary Kreiburg, both by family and by the people's hands. You look around the messy area as Norton walks ahead of you.

“Look over here.” Norton pointed to something ahead of him. You raise an eyebrow as you go over in front of him only to see a broken shelf of trophies and pictures of horses and their riders.

“It looks old— Norton!?” Trapped in his arms.

“Relax,” You do as you realize too quickly his intentions when hands are on your breasts, “We have to be quiet.” You shiver as his breath is hot on your ear. You hold the shelf's frame as Norton touches you with the barrier of your clothes limiting the sensation of his hands on your skin.

“Open your legs,” You do, “When he said you would give in easily, I didn't think you would be this easy.”

“Would you rather I treat this differently?” You bite back though you moan when his hand slips down your pants.

A suit. Orpheus picked it for you when you wanted to be more masculine. Though he adores your dresses, he also enjoys the eroticism of suits on you.

“You can fight, your partner told me everything you like,” Norton gets your pants down your ankles, underlings moved to the side exposing your intimate part to the air, “Who would have thought you were such a—”

“Please don't.” Stopping him mid-sentence, “I know what I am… I didn't mean to force you into this.”

He stopped, your head tilted back to look up at him, “(Name), I ain’t doing this by force.” The sound of his pants being undone follows, “I want to fuck you, writer.” You gasp as his cock rubs between the lips of your pussy, “Going to make sure you are screaming my name all night.”

It is a bit difficult for him to grind against your pussy as you are not wet enough, so he stimulates you by touching more. Rubbing your clit, playing with your breasts, kissing you; you get wet and breathing heavily.

His pace is slow, one can say sweet as he guides you close your legs, kissing your neck and ear. When he goes fast you learn Orpheus made a single rule, one Norton agrees to only because he wants to see the way you are at the mercy of another.

“Don't cum. Boss's orders.”

“Norton, please.” Barely able to keep your voice down, “I need, oh God, please!?”

“No.” Slapping your ass causing you to moan louder, “Damn, you are into anything.” Chuckles at your misery, “You can cum but know you're the one facing the consequences.”

You struggle to not crumble as Norton is not making it easy for you, each thrust closer and closer bringing you to the edge.

It is downright a blessing that Norton cums before you fall, his cum on the shelf and dripping on the floor. You whine with frustration, your body trembling as you are going to have to walk around miserably horny.

“Well look at that, you didn't cum.”

You are going to explode.

“Glad to see you two had fun,” Orpheus is in the small living room with a small glass bottle in his hand, one leg over the other as he sits by the unused fireplace. There are pillows, leather cuffs, and a blindfold on the rug, “Were they well-behaved?” Pleasant as if you are not looking in shock at the things laid out so casually. 

“Very. Like a dog.”

Your arms are crossed over your chest your breasts are tender, “This feels like a chapter from 120 Days of Sodom.”

Orpheus' laugh is rich, loud, and pure, “My apologies but my greed for you will only allow for one another to share in such debauchery. All with the participants' permission of course.” Eyes shifting from you to Norton, “Mr. Campbell.”

“Tsk, I already signed the damn contract, what more do you need?” Moving from your side to stand next to Orpheus.

“Contract?” Curious.

“An agreement between gentlemen, my dear,” Waving it off, “Now this is about you, not us. We are merely your gifts this evening.” Orpheus is studying you, “Undress.”

Norton half expected him to be one doing the work or having to put on a show. Instead, you undress with no nervous moments, and when done after placing your clothes on the couch, you stand there with your hands behind your back.

“Kneel,” Orpheus is stern, “Wrists presented.” Norton is not sure what to do but watch the events unfold, this seems odd. Odd because Orpheus is cuffing your hands together with leather cuffs, tilting your head back as the blindfold is placed. Norton had to look away when you were panting from the silk gloves tracing your skin, applying pressure on the bite mark on your shoulder. The side eye he got from the Novelist has malice, it is amused.

“(Name), lay back,” You do as you are told, “Open your mouth.” You open your mouth as Orpheus pops the bottle open and pours gently the thick purple contents into your mouth.

Once done, you lick your lips then smile, “Grape.”

“It took a few attempts but there you have it.”

There you lay naked on a nest of pillows, you fidget in your spot, “Thank you…Both of you.” Beaming as your lover kisses your cheek before returning to his seat.

“Mr. Campbell, it is your turn.”

Norton snaps out of his wandering thoughts and clears his throat, “About time.” Stepping forward until Orpheus cuts him off with his hand blocking the way, “What?”

“Undress,” Spoken with a lighter tone, “We are the gift.”

“Tsk, maybe if you didn't cuff them maybe they could've unwrapped their gift, Orpheus.”

A hum, “Point made.” Norton curses at the way Orpheus, who looks weak compared to him, can also seem so intimidating, “Shall I take responsibility?” The hand moves up and hooks a finger between the suspenders and the workman's shirt.

“N-no,” Shoving passes as he undresses, “What did you give (Name)?”

“A form of aphrodisiac. They wanted to experience it.” Shamelessly watching the Prospector undress, enjoying the seconds of hesitation when Norton catches those brown eyes on his figure.

Feels like a wolf… A wolf in sheep's clothing. It would be disrespectful to call Norton the sheep, a ram perhaps?

“Orpheus,” You were quiet as the drug worked through your system, “I… Can I cum?”

“As freely as you wish, however,” Norton is not fully naked and feast for the eyes, “You should ask Norton for permission now.”

You whimper, “Norton,” Hands are on your knees opening your legs, “I was good. I didn't cum all day.”

“Begging already? Hah, you are like a dog.”

You hate that made you moan, wetter (bad enough you were wet from before still), and needy as all hell.

“B-bark.” You do not do what he wants, “L-like that?” Genuinely asking.

Orpheus snickers from behind as Norton stares in shock, worse that made his cock stir, “Just say my name, fuck.” Grumbling.

You do say his name, loud enough it echoes in the room, as Norton drives in between your legs without warning. Legs arching as he eats you out as if he has been denied all fucking day. All day as if he has not been the one keeping you on edge by randomly touching you until you were begging— And you beg easily.

Another man is touching you, another man is touching you in front of Orpheus, and Orpheus wants to see you fall apart.

Orpheus had been the one who asked your thoughts on Norton Campbell, he wanted honesty. You think the Prospector is handsome, intimidating, but you said too you understand him. Well, you understand what it is like to struggle against the odds against you, the beating life gives is relentless, and you understand the hatred.

You put that hatred into words in a book.

Orpheus watches as Norton is not the brute with you as he had tried to scare him into believing, the Novelist had simply told Norton to look to him if he needs assistance.

The Prospector is a virgin. Plain and simple, the Novelist does not think little of him for lacking experience. It is natural for a distrustful man not to allow him to be vulnerable, the world is cruel. Seeing you understand that, tell Orpheus of bitter feelings, jealousies, and resents… This is as much a gift to you as it is to Norton.

So indulge, seeing Norton explore a body already claimed; fall into the illusion of lust, see Norton consumed by the wonder that is your presence; often nightmares are the sweet dreams that ensnares, you kiss him as the man enters your welcoming heat.

[munchmemes]

hozier lyrics, unreal unearth edition

❛ your reflection can't offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself. ❜ ❛ no closer could i be to god or why he would do what he's done. ❜ ❛ what you live in, it finds a way to live in you. ❜ ❛ your heart has such darkness. ❜ ❛ i wanna be gone. i wanna run so far, i'd beat the morning. ❜ ❛ before the dawn has come, i'd block the sun if you want it done. ❜ ❛ let all time slow. let all light go. ❜ ❛ i don't need to know where we begin and end. ❜ ❛ i'd still know you, not being shown you. ❜ ❛ the first time that you kissed me, i drank dry the river lethe. the liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same. ❜ ❛ some part of me must have died the first time that you called me baby. ❜ ❛ some part of me came alive the first time that you called me baby. ❜ ❛ these days, i think, i owe my life to flowers that were left here by my mother. ain't that like them? gifting life to you again. ❜ ❛ oh, to share the space with simple living things infinitely suffering but fighting off, like all creation, the absence of itself ... but anyway. ❜ ❛ some part of me stayed alive each time that you called. ❜ ❛ whatever keeps you around, it keeps you around. ❜ ❛ when i was young i used to guess, are there limits to any emptiness? ❜ ❛ how could you think i'd scare so easily? ❜ ❛ my life was a storm since i was born. how could i fear any hurricane? ❜ ❛ i would do it again if i could hold you for a minute. ❜ ❛ what good would it be on the far side of things? ❜ ❛ i would not change it each time. ❜ ❛ heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i. ❜ ❛ i feel lighter than i have in so much time. ❜ ❛ how could i fall when i am lifted by every word you say to me? ❜ ❛ if anything could fall at all, it's the world that falls away from me. ❜ ❛ if you need to, lean your weight to me. ❜ ❛ if we fall, i only pray, don't fall away from me. ❜ ❛ i'm starving, darling. let me put my lips to something. ❜ ❛ you can't buy this fineness. ❜ ❛ we can celebrate the good that we've done. ❜

❛ we had nowhere to go and every desire for going there. ❜ ❛ i heard once, it's the comforts that make us feel numb. ❜ ❛ it was just our turn being blamed for a world we had no power in. ❜ ❛ i haven't felt it since then. i don't know how the feeling ended. ❜ ❛ i know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done. ❜ ❛ we knew what our love was worth when we had nothing. ❜ ❛ i miss when we did not need much. ❜ ❛ you were steering my heart like a wheel in your hands. ❜ ❛ all i needed was someone when the whole wide world felt young. ❜ ❛ hold me like water or hold me like a knife. ❜ ❛ you and i burned out our steam chasing someone else's dream. ❜ ❛ how can something be so much heavier but so much less than what it seems? ❜ ❛ you only feel it when it's lost. getting through still has its cost. ❜ ❛ if there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right. ❜ ❛ we didn't get it right but we did our best. ❜ ❛ knowing that everything will end should not change our plans. ❜ ❛ all things end. ❜ ❛ there are some things that no one teaches you that come natural as a dream you didn't know that you were in. ❜ ❛ the awful things we do to make the head go quiet. ❜ ❛ you may never know your fortune until the distance has been shown between what is lost forever and what can still be known. ❜ ❛ i don't wanna be anything but i would do anything just to run away. ❜ ❛ go look another way. ❜ ❛ look, i wanna be loud. so loud, i'm talking seismic. ❜ ❛ i will not be great but i'm grateful to get through. ❜ ❛ the memory hurts but does me no harm. ❜ ❛ the moment i knew i'd no choice but to love you. ❜ ❛ there's a part of me, i'm afraid will always be trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life. ❜ ❛ you know, the distance never made a difference to me. ❜ ❛ so, i thought you were like an angel to me. ❜ ❛ it ain't the being alone. it ain't the empty home. you know i'm good on my own. ❜ ❛ so much of the living is the being unknown. ❜ ❛ do you know i could break beneath the weight of the goodness i still carry for you? ❜ ❛ there are some people who are better unknown. ❜ ❛ darkness always finds you either way. ❜ ❛ after this, i'm never gonna be the same and i am never going back again. ❜

[da-rulah]

Could you please do fan fic where Copia is gay or/and with a ftm(female to male) trans guy?

This has been on my mind since you requested it, and I apologise it's taken so long. Can you believe I missed out on writing this during PRIDE MONTH!? What a twat. I apologise. Usual stuff; work/life balance, writing for my big fics etc. etc but you had me at 'gay copia'. I hope you enjoy...

18+, MDNI! CW/ MxM, soft smut, comfort, gay sex, anal fingering, anal penetration, hand job, cumming inside, this is soppy as shit and I love it fight me.

OH MY GOD there's art to go with this now... Thank you so much to my incredibly talented bestie, @delulluart for this stunning pencil drawing. (Warning, it's NSFW... of course.)

Tagging my usual tag list, but if this kind of thing isn't for you, then that's absolutely fine. 💕

Do you know how tiring it is to always be in command? To always be the figure of authority? Copia does. There's no escape from it... He has no choice but to be the figurehead of the ministry, the one everybody turns to for help, for advice, for relief...

How was he ever supposed to feel relief? Who would take care of his stresses? Who would allow him the space to just let go?

Today, he practically crawls back into his chambers, just grateful to be in a place he can call his own again. No disturbances or expectations; just peace to unwind. Except, he wasn't alone. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him, there he is; his lover, Brother Adan, stepping from the bedroom to greet him in his living space.

"Hello handsome," he smirks, his eyes soft with adoration. "I saw your schedule today, figured you may want to see me?"

He was correct; Copia very much wanted to see him.

"You always know what I want before I do, eh?" Copia chuckles, slumping back against the door. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long..."

"You know I wouldn't mind if you did," he shrugs, walking over to Copia and wrapping his arms around his soft waist. "What do you need tonight, Papa? Cuddles and computer games, or do you need to uh... release your frustrations?"

Copia thought for a moment. He wasn't sure he had the energy, and frankly, he'd been commanding his clergy around all damn day. The last thing he wanted to do was come home and be the picture of dominance again. He wanted to be taken care of, to be reminded what it was like to let someone else take control. But in the arrangement Copia had with his Adan, they had never reversed the roles like that.

He was sure that he was capable, no doubt about that, but it just so happened that the natural roles of their situationship had made Copia the giver, and Adan the receiver. He hesitated, wondering if it might sound silly to request he give up his Papa authority for the night.

"Papa, what is it?" Adan asked, concerned. He could clearly see the inner battle going on behind his bewitching eyes.

"I... was wondering if..." Copia stutters, stumbling over his words like a fool. "If you would... maybe, eh... take control, tonight?" Adan tilts his head in question, the request sinking in.

"You mean... take care of you?" he smiles, running his fingertips through Copia's greying and overgrown hair. Copia nods meekly, unable to look him in the eye. "Oh, Copia... Don't feel any shame for that. Of course I can. You must be so tired of being in command all the time, hm?"

Copia meets his eyes, full of understanding and compassion. "Sí..."

"I'm sorry I never offered this before. You must have thought I was only happy to bottom, hm?" Adan chuckled. "I just thought that's what you wanted, but I can do both, my love." Adan moves the hand still around Copia's waist to his gloved hand, lacing his fingers with his own. "Come on, come and lay down with me."

Adan slowly leads Copia into the bedroom, gently as if guiding an exhausted gazelle to a watering hole. Copia could already feel himself sinking into a role of submission, tension beginning to drain from his shoulders from the relief of being allowed the space to fall.

Without a word, Adan sat him at the end of the bed, crouching down at his feet to remove his shoes and socks one at a time. Copia sat and watched, dumbfounded, as Adan meticulously and slowly undressed him layer by layer, until he was sat completely nude and vulnerable. Then as Adan stood upright and stepped back, he held eye contact with Copia, sweet and playful, as he too undressed himself.

"Lay back, Copia," he instructed, crawling onto the bed beside him and following until they both lay on the pillows, Copia on his back and staring innocently into Adan's eyes who lay on his side, propped up by his elbow.

Adan began to trace his fingertips over Copia's bare chest, running through the salt and pepper chest hair over his pecks and down across his stomach, only to tease as he got lower by retreating back up. Copia gulped, his bare hands balling into fists at his sides to refrain from moving. Adan didn't miss the way his cock, laying heavy and soft against his hip, had begun to fill out just from the lightest of touches.

Adan's hand travelled down the length of Copia's torso one more time, before retreating and coming to cradle his cheek and pull him towards him for a deep, slow kiss. Copia moaned immediately, gripping the sheets below him. His mind went blank, any and all stress from the day clearing out only to be replaced by fog.

As they lost themselves in their slow kiss, tongues marrying together deliciously, Adan reached his hand down one more time, finally reaching for Copia's length and palming him against his thigh. It hadn't taken long, but both men were completely erect, enjoying the sensual nature of their embrace.

As soon as Adan's hand finally wrapped around Copia's shaft, his jaw went slack, a moan rumbling from within. Adan kept kissing him, unbothered that Copia had stopped and only wanting to continue to please his Papa.

"Is this enough, my love? Or do you wish for more tonight?" he asked, wanting to give Copia the experience he needed tonight, utterly selflessly.

"Per favore, amore... will you fill me? I-It's been so long since I've felt that," he gasped, stuttering while Adan's hand worked him in long, languid strokes.

"Of course, sweet thing. Let me prep you first, hm? We can't rush this..."

"Sí, sí," Copia babbled, allowing Adan to roll him over onto his front and spread his knees just enough. Copia kept supplies in his bedside cabinet for convenience since Adan began staying the night a lot more often, and so Adan reached for the bottle of lubrication he knew he'd need.

He still lay beside Copia, wanting him to feel secure, loved and comforted by his body pressing into his, still able to deliver kisses and praises directly to Copia's ear.

He began with one finger, allowing the slick digit to circle Copia's already fluttering rim before he attempted to dip inside. Copia felt incredibly relaxed already, but with the stimulation to his hole he was struggling all the more to keep his hips still against the bed, rutting his erection into the mattress. Adan just smiled at his responsive partner, knowing he was already feeling the pleasure he'd intended.

With an extra drizzle of lubrication, Adan began to press his fingertip into Copia, slowly to accommodate the stretch that he certainly wasn't used to these days. Copia groaned in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut as he buried half his face in the pillow below him. His paints were going to transfer to the sheets, but that was a problem for later. He needed grounding in that moment.

Adan did his best to work Copia open with just the one finger at first, eventually adding two. All the while, Copia was losing his mind at the sensation. So close to his prostate, and yet, not enough for stimulation; it was winding him up, building a knot of dull tension in his abdomen.

With some time, Adan was able to use three fingers, widening the gap for himself to fit neatly inside when the time came. Copia's groans and whines were muffled by his pillow, and yet each one travelled straight down to Adan's cock, which Copia could feel against his hip while he toyed with his hole.

"A-Adan, please..." Copia begged, professing that he was ready without having to say the words.

"Shhh, it's okay Copia. I've got you," he soothed, retracting his fingers and rolling Copia onto his side so he faced away from him. He reached for the lube again, this time coating his own length generously, before dribbling more where Copia would need him. "We'll take it slow, hm?"

"Yes, yes, just please... I need you, Adan..." Adan chuckled a little at that, sliding his palm between Copia's thighs so he could lift one and allow him the room to line his tip up with Copia's hole.

The initial stretch was uncomfortable, but not entirely unpleasant thanks to Adan's careful preparation. And still, he was gentle, giving Copia plenty of time to get used to him inch by inch. Already, Adan was becoming drunk on the gasps and moans that spilled from Copia's lips, and he couldn't help but press kisses to his neck, nipping gently at the skin whil his hands squeezed Copia's thigh in an attempt to control his own pleasures. It had been a while for Adan too, to feel the tightness of another man around him. Fuck, how he missed it...

Copia gained some confidence, rocking his hips back into Adan's and reaching his arm back to hold his hips in place to bounce against. Adan groaned against Copia's shoulder, losing himself to the passion of the moment too.

After a little while, he could take it no longer, rolling Copia to have his back pressed to his chest and sitting himself up enough to grip tightly onto the back of Copia's neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss as he pistoned his hips deep into him. Copia lifted his leg for a better angle, wrapping his own arm around Adan's bicep and holding on tightly as he groaned into the kiss, each thrust audibly stuttering his moans.

The pair were completely wrapped up in each other, losing themselves together. Adan's grip on Copia's neck tightened, before dropping down to press into Copia's stomach and digging his fingertips into the softness of his belly. Fucking hell, Adan loved his body, soft and warm in his grip. He could feel the way his stomach turned into rolls each time he thrusted into him, Copia curling up tightly each time.

With every upward thrust, Copia's prostate was throbbing with pleasure, his cock bouncing from the force of Adan's movements and aching from the lack of contact. He could only whine at the feeling of being so close, so fucking close, that he thought his entire body was about to burst.

He wanted to beg, to plead, to tell Adan how much he adored him, how much he needed this but just the thought of parting their heated kiss as he fucked into him was regretful. but it was Adan who parted first, grunting and growling in a way Copia rarely heard from him. He was about to cum deep inside his Papa, unable to stop himself and so his pace picked up, determined to finish Copia off before himself.

He reached his hand down to wrap his deft fingers around Copia's shaft, beginning to pump him to completion while he hammered into his prostate. Copia cried out, his nails digging into Adan's arm as his eyes rolled back into his head and his body lost it's fight to stay composed. Copia's cock jerked in Adan's hand, thick ropes of warm cum erupting onto his own stomach with the last remnants dribbling down Adan's fist. The sight and sound alone was enough to finish Adan off, his rhythm falling off as he shot his own load deep inside Copia.

Adan stilled, enjoying the last few minutes of connection sheathed inside Copia's warmth as the two of them came down from their highs, heavy breaths and gentle whimpers filling the silence. Copia's eyes fluttered open, searching Adan's who seemed to be doing the same - asking a silent question, or confessing a silent thought.

"I think... I think I am I love with you, Adan..." Copia whispered, losing his confidence the moment he uttered a syllable. Neither of them had expected something quite this serious when their arrangement began, but there was no denying the electricity between them.

Adan just grinned, once again holding Copia close to him by the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the sweat dampened locks of hair at the nape.

"And it would seem, Papa, I'm in love with you too," he admitted, not a moment of hesitation now he knew where Copia was too. The two men shared a soft kiss, longing for one another as if they weren't as close as could possibly be right then.

"I suggest a nice, soothing, hot bath to recover, hm? Let the stress just melt away, together?" Adan proposed, stroking the hair from Copia's forehead. He could only nod in response, too tired and drunk on him to form words. "I'll be right back, my love."

With a kiss to the tip of Copia's barely painted nose, Adan gently removed himself from his side and made his way into the bathroom to run a hot bath filled with salts and essential oils to soothe his poor Papa's body and mind.

The two of them spent the evening in the bath together, Copia enveloped in the warmth of the water and his lover behind him. He'd never been so cared for, so loved by another than he was with Adan around. Suddenly, the burden of being Papa didn't feel quite so heavy anymore...